The Once, Present and Future Bull

Nowhere is the march of time more apparent than in the career of a male elk.  Nearly his entire life is controlled by his genes and their demand that he pass them on to the next generation.  I went back to observe the elk in northwest Pennsylvania this week. Late the first evening, we located the Q-Bull alone in a field.  He's been dominant in past years.  His rack is really heavy.   At first he was lying in the grasses and loudly bugling. That seemed unusual.

I'd not previously seen a bull on the ground while bugling, and his size suggested he should have cows.  But when he arose, he was clearly lame in one hind leg.  Maybe he lost a battle with a younger bull, or was just past his prime.  He's truly the old bull and unable to hold on to a harem.

The next morning it was foggy.  We located a group of eight cows and calves, but no bull was present.  Some bugling to the west caught my attention, and through the trees toward the next field, I saw the honey color of an elk.  Quickly moving closer, I was just in time to see this harem's bull coming back to his ladies.

Look at all the grass and mud on his tines. He's been wallowing and marking territory. He quickly rejoined the eight cows and calves.  Back from his little excursion, the bull will bugle - I guess as another proclamation of his territory. The sound of a big bull is both melodic and powerful.  Surely it works to intimidate smaller bulls.

You may think he is king, but in truth this is a matriarchal society, and she is the boss.  He may be a bully, but he only follows her lead.  On this morning, I watched the bull try to take the cows off to the creek crossing and become agitated when the cows wanted to go up the hillside.  He went so far as to chase a cow, but she evaded his attempts.

He ran about but the cows seemed quicker, and pushing one cow would have left the others to wander away.  The net result was that he stalked around a summer cabin and showed his displeasure.  When the last cow disappeared into the hillside, he followed.

In about seven days of watching these Pennsylvania elk, the final day was the first time I have seen spike bulls.  (Do they stay out of the way when the big bulls are all charged up in the rut?  Maybe.)  In the fog, we found a group of cows and calves with no bull. There were two spike bulls, still in velvet. There were female calves of the same size, so I am inclined to think they are calves of this year. It is interesting to see the difference in overall body size and spikes. 

So, there you have the once, the present and the future bulls in the elk society.

Paul

The Way Home Leads through Maine

There is seemingly always something new to see in Maine.  So, our way home from Newfoundland opened the door for seeing an old favorite on Mt. Desert Island and finding a new favorite.  The 1780 Selectmen's Building is situated beside a small pool on the brook draining from Somes Pond.  The graceful bridge over the water is unlike any other I have seen.  I stop to see it every time.

In August, Mt. Desert, and specifically Acadia National Park, is jammed with visitors.  It seemed half again as many people as just ten years ago. We went looking for something less visited.  My notes contained a comment from a friend about Thuya Gardens in Asticou just above Northeast Harbor.  We found a small parking lot on Route 3 for Thuya and climbed the rocky path towards the garden.  Pausing at an opening, we had a view of  Northeast Harbor. It was full of recreational boats and large yachts that contrasted with the harbors in Newfoundland that sheltered working fishery boats. I wondered how well Thuya would match our expectations.  The gateway to Thuya welcomed us with a beautifully carved wooden door.  The motifs on the door suggested that we had found what we hoped to see.

Once inside we found lush beds of colorful flowering plants. They were arranged with consideration for height and colors.  Pink dahlias immediately caught my attention.  I wondered if the summer of foggy weather had kept the plants from withering under a hot sun.

 Large yellow lilies were complemented by a sweep of blue beneath them.

 Pink dahlias stood beneath lilies sporting a pink that went to a deeper red.

There was more just a short way along the bed.  Purple Coneflowers were in bloom; they must have offered the sweetest nectar in the garden, given the variety of butterflies visiting them.  This Painted Lady was methodically working the entire flowerhead.

It was encouraging to see a few Monarch Butterflies on the Purple Coneflowers. Thuya actually had a small butterfly garden rich with milkweed for the Monarchs.

The time passed quickly at Thuya.  There was so much to explore, and the butterflies competed for our attention.  At such a garden, there is the big picture that you first encounter.  Then smaller details capture the attention like a butterfly on a bloom. The lilies themselves are interesting in their composition like this one.

The morning passed and we left for a break. Nearby, we explored Asticou Azalea Gardens with the commitment to return in late May when they are in peak display.

Without actually entering the national park, we had an entertaining visit to Mt. Desert Island absent the crowds. It was time to head towards home.

The next morning we headed south with a brief stretch break at Rockport. The day was foggy and the wharf in the harbor offered a view of a nice two-masted schooner at dock on a calm and foggy morning.

Again, I realized why so many people choose to spend their summers in Maine, and even more stay the entire year.

Paul