Raggie

I'm in love with another man. Actually, it's a Bull elk.

Way back in 2008, we began noticing a young, spike Bull keeping close company with a cow elk we assumed to be his mother. She seemed to be an older cow, and we named her Gramma. It's not too unusual for Spikes to stay with a group of cows, but we enjoy seeing them all the same.  This spike soon learned when the horses were fed, where the horses were fed, and that the horses would share their hay!

The following year, 2009, the Bull was back- only now, he was a large Raghorn bull- majestic and beautiful. He STILL hung out with his Mom, Gramma! which is pretty unusual, but not unheard of.

Raggie and I developed a pretty special bond. Most Bulls run at the hint of a human presence- and Raggie would run whenever he sensed anyone, except me. In fact, he would let me walk down to the barn, and feed the horses while he stood in the pasture looking at me. He tolerated the incessant clicking of my camera, too. And one time, (this is the HONEST TO GOD truth), I was driving home from work and saw Raggie in a field a couple of miles from our home. I was so grateful to see him, as he hadn't been around for weeks. I stopped the car, and he looked right into my eyes. I told him, "Hey! I've missed you! Get home where you belong!" then, I drove off.  Several hours later, I looked out, and there was Raggie, bringing a harem of cow elk with him! I walked to the barn, while he watched me, and threw out some hay.

I thought that would be the last time I ever saw him. While an occasional Raghorn will stay with the cows, older Bulls absolutely DO NOT! They stay up in the mountains, away from humans. Bull elk are skittery, and resist staying in the open for long. That night I sent him off with a prayer... and when hunting season began in the Fall, I sent him thought messages to stay hidden- murmured prayers into the ether, and worried, realizing I'd never know one way or the other.

Well, this January, Gramma was back, with a group of cows, and no bulls. My thoughts, once again, turned to Raggie, and I wished him well.

Then, Thursday morning, Bruce called me into the living room. "That's a Bull." He pointed into the field. "Do you think it could possibly be...."

Coming in a straight line across the field, never varying, never wavering, came a Bull in velvet. He marched deliberately, a destination obviously in mind.

He passed Wyn and Dakota with a casual glance and kept right on.

He was so big, he stepped over our fence.

and then.... he stopped. And looked for me.

I didn't disappoint him. I was there- clicking away with my camera.

Raggie made it through hunting season and came home to let me know.