A common refrain around here is, “Sorry I’m late, got stopped by the train.”
Well, from time to time, though not nearly as often, you can substitute elk for train.
For a lot of Bow Valley locals, elk are just part of the landscape. Their poop is everywhere, even though it’s hit or miss whether you actually see them. You can walk by a forested area a dozen times before realizing there’s a whole herd in there, dozing their day away.
What, they’re supposed to go to work or something?
It’s comical when a herd of elk crosses a major street during a morning commute and everybody has to wait until they decide to move on, realizing that nobody sees this in Toronto.
But they can also be dangerous and unpredictable, especially during calving and rutting season. So as much as I’d love to get up close and personal with them for reference photos, I’ve seen what can happen when you do.
If you’ve ever seen a bull elk charge a parked car, you soon realize that the insurance claim is nothing compared to what an animal with that size and power, with or without the antlers, could do to a person. The cows are just as dangerous.
Most locals have had the experience of telling a tourist trying to get a selfie with a wild animal that “you are way too close,” only to be told in less than family-friendly terms to “mind your own business.”
But every once in a while, a photo opportunity presents itself with sufficient guardrails in place to make it a magical experience.
While out for a chilly bike ride yesterday, both for exercise and on the lookout for wildlife, I came across some cows (that’s female elk) lying down in the trees right next to a paved trail beside the Bow River. People politely warned each other as they passed, especially if they had a dog.
“Hey, just so you know, there’s some elk in the trees on the right side up there.”
I both warned a couple of people and was warned myself. But the elk seemed comfortable and didn’t appear to care that people were passing by. I took a couple of quick snapshots from my bike, but nothing remarkable or worth keeping for reference.
On my route back, I peered down the riverbank and saw an unmistakable herd crossing a tributary of the Bow. I had a feeling I knew where they were headed. Crossing the bridge, I doubled back on the other side of the river, heading toward one of our local parks, home to a football field and baseball diamond.
Sure enough, as I slowed down near the park, a gentleman flagged me down to warn me there was a big bull and a harem crossing into the park. Continuing down the path would have put me in a bottleneck situation with a lot of elk. He and I both left the trail and headed into a nearby neighbourhood.
I rode down a couple of streets and reached the parking lot beside Millennium Park just as the herd was emerging onto the field. By the time they all arrived, there were easily 50 elk. Some remained on the football field, but several others moved through a small open gate to graze inside the ball diamond.
While I would have loved to take some shots of the larger herd on the football field, with the Three Sisters and other mountains in the background, I’m not a landscape photographer. And I’ve taken plenty of reference photos of female elk over the years.
I did take a few cow photos this week, but my focus was on the large bull. He’d entered the ball diamond and was far enough into the grass that I could comfortably take unobstructed shots without putting myself in a precarious position.
The elk appeared docile and comfortable, and a few people were already at the fence when I arrived. The cows just sauntered by on their side. Thankfully, nobody did anything stupid like going into the ball diamond. Everyone seemed content with such a special opportunity to take pictures from our side of the fence.
Can an elk jump a fence? Absolutely.
But there was loud construction going on right beside the ball diamond, complete with workers, earth movers, machinery and that lovely beeping sound. The elk didn’t seem bothered by any of it.
Still, I chose an exit route and knew where I would go if I had to.
I stood there for an hour, happily snapping shots, enjoying a rare, unobstructed view of that big bull.
I’m a spray-and-pray wildlife photographer. I choose my settings and then fire off a dozen shots at a time, hoping I get several I can use. I’m not selling photographs. I’m gathering reference, and it’s this method that allows me to capture unexpected moments that inspire and contribute to paintings in my style.
What makes a mediocre or boring photo for a wildlife photographer might be one of my best keepers because of the detail and reference it provides. I even keep shots where the focus might be a little off because of the other elements they contain.
A wildlife photographer might spend all day waiting for that one perfect shot. I might take a thousand photographs and find my favourite in one that’s slightly out of focus, awkwardly composed, or otherwise unremarkable.
Because I’m not looking for the perfect photograph. I’m looking for something that makes me think, “I want to paint that,” or “there’s a personality in there I want to capture.”
That’s what lights me up.
I delighted in watching the bull use that massive rack to deftly scratch his own back, contorting his face with satisfaction as he got just the right spot. It was only when I got home and went through the 1,000-plus photos that I realized just how many wonderful expressions I’d captured.
I’m critical of which reference photos I keep and quickly culled those thousand shots down to just over 50 for my photo archive. That’s still a lot.
People often ask me where I get the ideas for my paintings, the personalities and expressions. Life definitely informs art. And even though I recently wrote that I wasn’t in a hurry to paint another elk, I’m happy to say I’ve revised that opinion, thanks to the riches this experience delivered.
I’ll admit, as I write this the morning after, I was tempted to go back to see if they might still be hanging around the same area. Maybe get a few more shots.
But honestly, I got closer to that bull than I ever expected, and had he moved more toward me than he did, I would have backed off, even with a fence between us.
So while there’s always a chance that a better shot presents itself, I’m more than satisfied.
It was a surprise and a gift, and I’m happy I had my camera with a zoom lens along for the ride.
I took a short video of the scene and posted it on Instagram and YouTube.
Cheers,
Patrick
There’s a phenomenon around here that we never quite get used to. When the light is right, often when fog or cloud cover is low in the valley but you can still see the peaks, or at certain times of year from certain viewpoints, the mountains look MASSIVE.
So I went up to Three Sisters by the golf course, down along the Bow River, to Millennium Park, and other places where elk are known to frequent.
This is Quarry Lake, on the road up to the Nordic Centre. It’s a local swimming hole in the summer, with a nearby dog park, and just a lovely place to be. Hard to believe it was once a scarred strip and open-pit coal mining operation.
I stood there for a few minutes and saw an elk lying down about twenty feet away. I hadn’t noticed her until just then. Within a few minutes, giving themselves away by their ear twitches, I realized the whole area was full of elk, most of them lying down in the fall brush.
I eventually spotted him, just munching away on leaves or grass, far enough away that I wasn’t worried. I managed to get the above shot, but it’s unremarkable. Handheld at 300mm, in the shadows. To get the shot I’d really want, I’d have to get too close to be safe.
A few cows were heading into the trees, and I managed to get a couple dozen shots of him before he disappeared into the woods after his harem.
Regardless, I’ll keep chasing the shots.
A couple of weeks ago, I biked a trail between a suburban neighbourhood and the Canmore Golf Course. It’s a popular pretty route in the trees, and I’ve taken it often. Rounding a turn, I encountered a large harem of elk lying down in the trees next to the path, with one very large bull elk standing among them.
It is maddening to explain to a tourist that they are too close to an elk and, for their own safety, they should move away, only to have them dismiss you with a wave or a middle finger, saying, “Yeah, yeah, mind your own business.”
It was an ideal situation for wildlife watching because people could look as long as they wanted and take pictures, and nobody was in danger. I expected somebody might foolishly climb down the bank to get closer, but fortunately, no one did.
From a photography perspective, the conditions were not good. The bright afternoon sun, lower in the cloudless sky this time of year, was directly across from me. I was shooting handheld at full zoom at 300mm. I probably should have gone with a higher shutter speed, but I often get that wrong. I’m only keeping a dozen of the hundreds of photos I took. While none are suitable for photo reference, I enjoyed the experience, especially taking pics of this impressive fellow.
I’ve lived here for almost thirty years and still love seeing wildlife, even the common sightings of deer, elk and bighorn sheep. Parking the bike off the path for a couple of hours, snapping photos, listening to a bugling bull, and watching a herd of elk on a beautiful warm fall day in the mountains was time well spent.
A former Canmore mayor once joked he was disappointed I hadn’t drawn a cartoon of him. I told him that was probably a good thing, but if it had been that important to him, he should have embezzled some money or participated in some other scandal. On the other side of that, a reporter once told me that a former Banff mayor was thoroughly irritated when I drew a caricature of him in a cartoon. So, be careful what you wish for.
Cheers,
While the warm weather is here, I try to be on the bike at least once a day, which means any excuse for an errand is welcome. One loaf of bread? Sure, I’ll pick that up, but I’ll take the long route and turn it into an hour ride. Even though we’ve had our e-bikes for about a year now, I turn off the pedal assist most of the time to get some daily exercise, which turns it into a regular, but heavier, fat bike. But the assist/throttle is handy when starting from a traffic light or biking up a steep hill with groceries on board.
While I can’t usually drop everything to go downtown to the gallery, I was already out and about and only a few minutes away, so she was pleased when I offered to meet them there. I showed them the canvases and available prints, explained a bit about the work and was happy to answer their questions about digital painting.
They left with another print of my Two Wolves painting (now on reorder) and four of 
Even with that small level of experience, I can’t imagine the stress these recent fire evacuees are enduring. Two weeks out of your home, watching the fires on the news as they get closer, often from hours away in shelters or homes in unfamiliar communities, not knowing when or if you’ll be able to return.
Wildfires are destructive enough. But what bothers me most is how so many use these disasters to further their agendas, political or otherwise.
Some supporters of BOTH political parties accuse the other of deliberately starting these fires to win votes. People in the energy sector are accusing environmentalists of starting fires to destroy the oil patch. Climate change activists use the fires to trumpet their agendas, and deniers share cherry-picked links to debunk them.
Amid all this noise, people out of their homes haven’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks, they’re unable to work, their kids are out of school, and whatever problems they already had are compounded. They’re scared, vulnerable, and feeling helpless. Their world is falling apart, and they can do nothing about it.
Whenever I’ve gone to Ucluelet on Vancouver Island, I’ve walked down a large staircase to the government dock to take photos of sea lions. To locals, they’re unremarkable, even a nuisance. While I’m happily snapping photos, those working on the nearby fishing boats are likely rolling their eyes at this silly tourist.
