We snuck out near dusk, way past the Pumpkining Hour. On our way back we saw this guy:
|I ripped this off, full of remorse, from the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, where you should go to verify all "facts" presented here.|
We've seen elk before. Just never so up-close and personal where everyone was shocked. They are the size of horses. Not those prissy Arabians.† Percherons, maybe, or draft horses, but without the slippers. Yeah, that's it, like a Clydesdale. That's why they're called "draft" horses.
So, Ed McMahon rode off on one of these things, and his rack was half as long as his body. The elk was nice, too. It occurred to me these guys are hanging out around the Duck every night. Blowing foggy elk breath on our windows. Bugling unspeakable desires and drinking cheap beer from cans while we choose our evening tea indoors. Then Annie reminded me Ed is gone.
I still get tickled raw by cows in the woods.
She's just as fierce as an elk. Nice rack, too. Someone has judged her to be approximately (~) a cow, but I fear they underestimated her.
We experienced two glorious minutes of rain early this morning. Annie woke up to say Tut tut, smells like dirt, then rolled over.
†Horse people: this is for entertainment purposes only. If your horse is sensitive to specist jokes, please do not allow him to read this post. Practice stable parenting.