It’s a special time of year for our male neighbors in the deer family – the great unveiling! With antlers having reached their peak growth for the season, it is time for the velvet to come off and reveal the year’s rack that may make or break a bull’s chance to be found acceptable by the cows and possibly carry on his lineage.
An afternoon last mid-August found me on the alpine tundra in one of my favorite locations to observe the high country elk, and one of the bachelor herds who call the area home. Upon my arrival I hadn’t seen any signs of elk, so I decided to wander a bit among the Krumholtz in hopes of an encounter. It didn’t take long before I heard a distinct thrashing among the thick pines.
As antlers form, they are enshrouded by a fuzzy membrane commonly known as velvet. This membrane is full of blood vessels which feed the spongy bone structure as it grows. Antlers are the fastest growing bone in the known world, with rates of up to two inches per day when elk are in peak season. This blood flow also acts as a de facto cooling system for the animal. As it flows through the velvet, the antlers act as a radiator to help cool the blood before it is pumped back into the body.
Once the antlers have fully developed, the velvet isn’t necessary anymore and begins to dry up and shed like the old, dead skin of a reptile. It is thought that the process is a bit itchy, irritating the animal and causing him to rub it off vigorously on trees and rocks – hence the thrashing about in the Krumholtz pines that initially caught my attention. The velvet is high in protein, so bulls in bachelor herds have been witnessed eating the strips off each other, and in the case of this young bull, he couldn’t help but try to pull some bites of his own off during his incessant attempts to rid himself of the bothersome dead skin.
When I first heard the commotion in the pines, I wasn’t able to see any bulls, but my gut told me that not only had I found at least one, he was very likely shedding. Not wanting to happen upon him or others too closely, I decided to take a different direction and opted to head high on the mountainside to gain a better view. Sure enough, as I gained ground, I saw that there were a total of six bulls of varying age, the four largest already nearly completely shed, one youngster still in full velvet, and the one I’d heard, seen in this week’s image, being the culprit deep in the brush.
It was late in the afternoon, so they were mostly bedded down, taking a rest and chewing their cud, with only the poor soul in the midst of his shed and the youngest up and about. After an hour, the elders finally decided to arise and continue their graze. Since they had already shed, it wasn’t long before two of them, likely a father and son pair, squared off and began their first sparring session with the newly shorn racks.
Bulls do not spar or otherwise use their antlers as they grow, so as not to damage the velvet which could potentially malform the final “product.” That said, with the velvet off, these bulls were quite ready for some action.
As the two squared off and began to practice gentle head placement, the others took turns ceasing their graze to watch. It didn’t take long for the other two bulls who’d shed to get involved in their own practice. There seemed to be a feeling of giddy excitement about finally being able to get back to sparring – so much so that the younger two began to prance about, the poor soul in tatters becoming a bit more frantic in his attempts to rid himself of the remaining shreds and join in the fun.
As the group frolicked about, they drew the attention of another massive bull who’d been hidden from my sight during the entire encounter. He came bounding up the hill to see what the commotion was about. When he saw the activity, he began prancing around everyone else as though joining in the reverie. Shed himself, he then began thrashing his own antlers among the pines, and using them and his hooves to dig a shallow wallow and roll in the mud, squealing and grunting with delight.
The excitement lasted for about another half hour or so as the sun began to sink behind the mountains and clouds. As the light waned and a gentle rain moved in, they all eventually returned to their simple graze. I packed my gear with a full heart, incredibly awed and thankful to have been able to witness such a “private” and special moment with these majestic creatures as they reveled in an early celebration of the monumental rut season to come.
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