Killing Wolves with Randy Newberg (for Fun, Entertainment and Profit)

Randy Newberg (left) and Matt Clyde

Randy Newberg -- a hunter who kills animals for entertainment and profit for his Outdoor Channel show, "On Your Own Adventures" -- is a staunch advocate for protecting our public lands. As a spokesperson for the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation and Backcountry Hunters and Anglers, he has spoken out against proposals to transfer ownership of our federal lands to state and private entities and he has supported noble efforts to "keep our public lands in public hands." However, Newberg seems to think that our federal lands were created by the people of Montana, Wyoming and Idaho, and that only they and hunters should have a say in how wildlife on our public lands are managed. In a two-part series for his show, called "Montana Wolf Hunting with Randy Newberg," he refers to those who oppose wolf hunting as "wingnuts" and "screwballs," "from wherever," and says they have no right "to tell us how to manage wildlife." 

"All wolves mean to them is money," says Newberg (who makes this statement while filming a wolf-hunting show for profit.) He claims that wolf advocates are "disconnected" from the land and disrupting the "lifestyle" and "culture" of locals, who are, so he claims, "connected to the land." 

It's a common "us vs them" mentality I often here — “out-of-staters” vs “locals,” “anti-hunters” vs “hunters,” but it's not true. There are many local folks, like me, who live here in Montana, who hunt elk and deer, who fish, who spend a lot of time roaming the wilds, who are deeply-connected to the land, and who oppose the killing of wolves for no legitimate reason (in Newberg's case, just for amusement, entertainment and profit).

"The people of Montana, Wyoming and Idaho protected these huge landscapes," Newberg says. "And then you people come here and tell us how to do it? You screwed up your backyard so bad you can't even get a rabbit to live there. And then you people come here and tell us what we're going to do?" (Newberg moved to Montana in 1991 from Minnesota.) 

Actually, our federal public lands -- which include National Forests managed by the U.S. Forest Service; lands managed by the U.S. Bureau of Land Management; National Parks managed by the U.S. Park Service, and National Wildlife Refuges managed by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service -- belong to all Americans, from all over the United States. They were originally acquired through purchases, such as the Louisiana Purchase, or through conquest, such as the Mexican Cession. At first, the United States practiced a policy of disposing of these lands, through programs such as the Homestead Act. Eventually, through the leadership of numerous individuals and organizations such as Theodore Roosevelt, John Muir, George Bird Grinnell, Gifford Pinchot, John Jay Audubon, the National Wildlife Federation, the Boone and Crockett Club, the Audubon Society, the Sierra Club and many others -- hunters and nonhunters, hunting groups and nonhunting groups -- the public lands we enjoy today were set aside for various reasons, to be protected and managed for various purposes, much of it, in Pinchot's words, for "the greatest good to the greatest number of people for the longest time." 

For the greatest good to the greatest number of people. Not for the greatest number of hunted species for hunters. 

Our federal public lands were created and are maintained by all American taxpayers. We hunters love to claim that we pay for conservation. However, on a national-scale, when you look at the costs of protecting and maintaining the federal lands where many of us hike, camp, backpack, watch wildlife, take photos, and yes, hunt and fish, we hunters pay for about six-percent of the costs.

Six percent.

It's true that many state wildlife agencies, such as the Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks, are funded largely (up to 55 percent) through the sale of hunting and fishing licenses, and they receive federal funds raised through excise taxes on hunting and fishing equipment. But much of the state agency funding is also money allocated from state budgets, and raised by all of us who pay taxes in our states. Hunters and nonhunters. A lot of that money -- with help from hunter-based conservation organizations -- has been used to purchase and protect critical winter range, migratory corridors and other habitat for elk, deer and other hunted species. Much of that has also benefit nonhunted and threatened and endangered species, including wolves. 

The downfall to such a system: Hunters have a huge influence over state wildlife management decisions and management which mostly benefit hunted species, sometimes to the detriment of other wildlife, particularly predators. 

No doubt about it, we hunters have played and continue to play a huge role in restoring, enhancing, expanding and protecting many wildlife species, particularly hunted species such as elk, deer, pronghorn and bighorn sheep. Hence, a lot of hunters like Newberg get pretty emotional and say things such as, "We protected these huge landscapes. And then you people come here and tell us how to do it? You screwed up your backyard so bad you can't even get a rabbit to live there. And then you people come here and tell us what we're going to do?" 

Aside from there being plenty of rabbits and other wildlife throughout the United States, even in urban back yards, and the fact that most land was “screwed up” and developed long before anyone alive today was born, all Americans, and all state residents, help fund wildlife conservation and management programs, and the protection of wildlife and wild places. We should all have a say in how its managed. And some hunters, like me, don't do it just so we have a place to hunt and animals to kill. Some of us do it because we want to help protect, enhance and maintain healthy, functioning ecosystems and landscapes for all wildlife, including wolves, even if that may sometimes result in less hunting opportunity. This is why it's so offensive to some of us hunters when Newberg says, "If you hunt, you hunt everything. You hunt prey. You hunt predators. We have a responsibility to hunt wolves. We need to manage them the way we manage every species." 

In his wolf-hunting show, Newberg features David Allen, who was then the Executive Director of the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation. Allen has called wolves "the worst ecological disaster since the decimation of bison herds," and had repeatedly claimed that wolves are "decimating" elk herds. "To keep wolf populations controlled, states will have to hold hunts, shoot wolves from the air and gas their dens,” Allen has said. Under his leadership, the Elk Foundation offered the state of Montana $50,000 to contract with the federal Wildlife Services agency to “aggressively” kill more wolves. “And the next step is the grizzly bear,” he said. “We’ve got bear issues with elk calves in the spring -- both grizzly and black bear. We can’t have all these predators with little aggressive management and expect to have ample game herds, and sell hunting tags and generate revenue.” 

Allen agreed with Newberg. "We need to manage wolves like we manage all species," he said. "We need to hunt them like we hunt all wildlife." Of course, we don't hunt all wildlife. We don't, for example, hunt bald eagles, ravens or western tanagers. Animals that are managed and hunted are generally, at least ideally, managed and hunted in accordance with what we know about the biology, ecology, habits and behavior of those species. This is why management actions and hunting seasons for elk and deer are not the same as they are for, say, mountain goats and bighorn sheep. Not all wildlife is, or should be, managed the same. 

One of the cornerstones of our North American Model of Conservation -- which hunters and hunting-based organizations love to tout and claim to support -- is that wildlife be managed based on good, sound science. That good, sound science shows that the return of wolves to much of the western United States has resulted in significant overall, long-term benefits to wildlife and the habitat that sustains them -- including the species we love to hunt. That good, sound science shows that wolves, being a predator species, have altogether different, and self-regulating, reproductive and survival behaviors and strategies than prey species. That good, sound science shows that wolves have highly-complex social structures and breeding behaviors. That good, sound science shows that if you inadvertently kill certain wolves -- such as the dominant breeding female, for example -- it can throw the pack into disarray, lead to the expansion and creation of more packs, lead to other wolves breeding, and lead to more wolves. That good, sound science shows that if you inadvertently kill certain wolves -- such as the dominant male or female -- then younger wolves will fail to learn lessons from them, such as best ways and places to hunt, and this can change a pack's hunting behaviors and lead to incidences such as, say, killing more domestic cattle rather than wild deer and elk.

That's what the science tells us. But a lot of hunters don't like good, sound science when it contradicts what they want to believe. And a lot of state wildlife agencies don't follow good, sound science when it goes against what hunters want to believe. That's why, in Idaho, the fish and game department conducts aerial shooting of wolves and sends bounty hunters into wilderness areas to eliminate wolf packs despite the good, sound science and what know about wolf behavior, ecology and biology.  (See Killing Wolves: A Hunter-Led War Against Science and Wildlife.)

That good, sound science doesn't play well to the membership of hunting organization's like the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, or the viewers of programs like "On Your Own Adventures." It's more effective to boost membership, viewers, funding and profit by perpetuating lies, myths and misconceptions about wolves and simplify the issue as if it's "residents vs nonresidents," "hunters vs anti-hunters," "rational vs emotional," "informed vs uninformed," "connected vs disconnected." Ratings and profit are better when you tell hunters what they want to hear. Newberg knows his audience. 

Despite the emotional, uninformed claims of apparently disconnected people like Newberg and Allen, elk populations are increasing in most of the West. In Idaho, the fish and game department is expanding elk hunting to reduce elk populations while simultaneously killing wolves under the guise of protecting and boosting elk numbers. Where elk populations do appear on the decline there are plenty of factors to consider in addition to wolves: Changes in habitat; the previous existence of artificially high elk populations at levels beyond the viable carrying capacity of the land; lack of mature bulls and low bull-to-cow ratios in herds (often resulting from early season hunting and too much hunting pressure on bull elk) which influences the timing of the rut and breeding behavior, the timing of spring calving, and often results in increased vulnerability of elk calves to predation; influence of other predators including mountain lions, black bears and grizzlies; unanticipated impacts of various hunting regulations and hunting pressure, and changes in behavior and habitat use by elk in the presence of wolves. And so on. Good, sound science can be complex. 

Where I hunt, the growing presence of wolves has changed the behavior and habits of elk. Elk bunch up more for safety, and move around more to evade and avoid wolves. They are a lot more wary. I have adapted and adjusted to these changes and have no problem finding elk. This is part of the beauty and value of hunting within wilderness -- to adjust, adapt and be part of the landscape; to be, as my friend David Petersen puts it, part of the "bedrock workings of nature."  We render the wilds a diminished abstract when we alter it to suit our own needs and desires and, in the process, make it less healthy and whole. There are those who espouse the virtues of backcountry hunting and yet seem apathetic or supportive towards the destruction of backcountry integrity. Those who understand the wilds -- those of who are connected to the land -- know how critically important predators are to the health of the land.

This is, in large part, why I have no desire to kill my fellow predators (that, and I strongly believe in only killing what you plan to eat), despite Newberg’s ignorant insistence that it’s my “responsibility” to kill wolves.

"We as hunters, we need to be out there hunting these wolves," he says. "This is part of who we are . . . that's part of our job. If you’re going to manage wildlife, you can’t just manage the prey species. You have to manage the predator species, and anyone who thinks otherwise, they need a quick education.” 

At one point in his wolf-hunting show, Newberg worries that his rifle may no longer be accurately sighted in, because he “dinged” his scope. If the scope was knocked out of sync, it could result in missing or wounding a wolf. So to check it out he decides to test it, not on a target, but on a living coyote. “That coyote will be a good way to find out,” he says. Apparently, his rifle was still properly sighted; He killed the coyote in one shot. “I just saved a lot of deer and a lot of antelope,” he says, before ranting again about wolves. 

“I make zero apologies for hunting wolves,” he says. “I never will apologize for hunting wolves. You’re damn right I’m a wolf-hunter, and I don’t care what anyone thinks about it. We set the dinner table for these wolves, and we have every right to be hunting these wolves.” 

And hunt wolves they did, he and his hunting partner Matt Clyde, glassing the hills with high-powered spotting scopes, running and jumping in the truck to drive closer to where they spotted wolves, climbing the mountains and glassing some more, running and jumping in the truck and driving some more. They spotted some wolves back where they had been earlier and so ran and jumped in the truck and drove back there again. (Newberg was frustrated when cattle were in the road, slowing them down, increasing their driving time.) Then back up the mountain again. Finally, there was a black wolf coming towards them. Clyde steadied his rifle while Newberg measured the distance with a range-finder. 

“Seven-hundred and fifty yards,” Newberg says . . . “500 yards . . . 480 . . . “ Clyde shoots. The wolf appears hit and runs a short distance. Clyde shoots again. The wolf goes down and struggles. Clyde shoots a third time. The wolf is dead. “Congratulations. You made an amazing shot!” Newberg says. (I'm not sure which shot he's referring to.) “It was fun, it was exciting, and that’s why were out here,” he says, as Clyde pets what Newberg refers to as “the big black dog in white snow” where it lays in a large pool of blood. 

“I’m going to hunt wolves every day I can that’s legal,” Newberg says. “Every day that I have a tag. Every time I can protect these elk herds, I will be there. I will have my rifle, and I will have my tags, and the wolves will be in trouble.”

Habitat Security: Protecting Elk and Elk Hunting

Secure habitat results in healthier elk herds and better hunting.

For those of us who chase elk around the wilds, the last word we might use to describe these wily animals is “vulnerable.”  But when elk lose too much habitat security, or are too easily accessible for too many hunters, or technology evolves beyond the ability of elk to easily escape and evade bullets and arrows, elk can indeed become overly vulnerable.  When hunted elk – which often means bull elk -- become overly vulnerable, it can have negative impacts to the health of the herds and result in reduced hunting opportunities. 

Concerns about bull elk vulnerability originally sprang not so much from high mortality in the bull segment of herds, but from low calf numbers. In the late 1960s, wildlife biologists noticed that widespread declines in pregnancy rates and spring calf counts coincided with reduced mature bull-to-cow ratios in many herds.  Although yearling bulls are capable of breeding cows, serious questions arose about their reproductive efficiency and the social and ecological consequences.

In 1969, concern over a proposed timber sale in the Lewis and Clark National Forest, along the Middle Fork of the Judith River in Montana’s Little Belt Mountains, proved a catalyst for change in elk management. Forest Service officials viewed the sale as critical to the forest’s planned program of timber harvest. Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks biologists feared disastrous effects on elk. In an effort to resolve conflict, the two agencies met in March, 1970, and agreed to the Montana Cooperative Logging Study. This 15-year research project involved five government organizations and a timber company. About the same time, similar research began in the Blue Mountains of Washington and Oregon. The two research projects produced a wealth of crucial information concerning the effects of logging and roading on elk, elk habitat and elk hunting – spawning concepts such as habitat security and elk vulnerability.

Here are some of the findings from that extensive research:

In the absence of older bulls, a lack of social order may lead to more fighting among young bulls and increased harassment of cows throughout a more extended rut. Spending even more energy on the rut saps vigor in both bulls and cows, increases susceptibility to predators and tough winters and makes for less healthy calves. Since young bulls tend to breed later than old bulls, their calves are born later in the spring. Such late comers can miss out on prime growth-boosting spring forage and do not have enough time to gain adequate body weight before their first winter. In addition, calves are born over a longer period of time, instead of mostly all at once (what biologists refer to as “the flooding strategy”). All of this makes calves more susceptible to predation, disease and winter kill.

Because a large rack suggests a bull’s ability to adapt and survive, and put excess energy into antler growth, cows – when given a choice – pick larger, more mature bulls to breed, ensuring the best genes are passed on. A lack of mature bulls inhibits this adaptive genetic selection process. Wildlife biologists have noted that in herds that lack mature bulls, overall pregnancy rates are often reduced, conception rates are delayed and the rut can be extended by a month or more.

In other words: There are reasons elk herds evolved with a certain number of mature bulls in their herds and related social structures and breeding behaviors. Healthy herds need healthy big bulls. So in the late 1980s and throughout the 1990s wildlife managers and land managers worked together to improve habitat security, reduce elk vulnerability, maintain and enhance hunting opportunities, and ensure natural bull-to-cow ratios and numbers of mature bulls in our wild elk herds.

As Olaus J. Murie, considered the “father of elk management,” wrote in his monumental book, “Elk of North America,” published in 1951:

“Looking to the future, in view of the needs of elk and exacting requirements of recreation based on multiple use, the safest course is to model elk management along natural lines, so far is reasonably possible, to preserve its distinct habits as well as its habitat.”

Controlling elk vulnerability is key, and maintaining and enhancing habitat security is inversely related. As security declines, vulnerability increases. For example, easy hunter access by too many open roads can make elk less secure, thereby increasing vulnerability.

Ironically, many state wildlife agencies once supported road-building projects for that very reason. In the early 1960s, expanding elk populations throughout the West appeared to be growing too large for available winter range. Logging and road-building on federal land seemed good for elk and elk hunting – the large openings in the forest produced forage and the roads provided access for hunters to kill more elk. By the early 1970s, however, wildlife biologists throughout the western United States and Canada noticed some disturbing trends – a decrease in calf production, accompanied by low bull-to-cow rations despite apparent improvements in the quality and quantity of forage.  Hunters simply killed to many mature bulls and wildlife biologists began questioning the impact of logging and roads on habitat security. In a game of hide and seek, elk were increasingly the losers because places to hide decreased and the density of hunters increased.

Vulnerability encompasses a diversity of factors, including hunter access and numbers, habitat, timing and duration of hunting seasons, terrain, weather, hunting equipment technology and hunting regulations.  Managers attempt to strike a delicate balance between elk being too vulnerable to hunting, which may result in excessive harvest, and being vulnerable enough to permit the desired harvest levels and types. Because habitat security can influence vulnerability as much as hunter numbers and hunting equipment technology, relying solely on state wildlife agencies to solve the problems through hunting seasons, bag limits and methods of take is not often effective. Hunting regulations, habitat conditions and the type of access allowed for hunters has increasingly become a shared responsibility of land managers, wildlife managers and hunters.

Hunters should get involved in wildlife and land management and help ensure the critical importance of habitat security is considered in all decisions. By protecting habitat security we protect healthy elk herds and good elk hunting.

Jack Ward Thomas: 1934 - 2016

"Not only are ecosystems more complex than we think, they are more complex than we can think." 
- Jack Ward Thomas

When I first moved to Montana out of the Marine Corps in 1985 I was determined to learn all I could about elk.  In addition to roaming the wilds and observing the magnificent animals year round, I also read the hefty treatise “Elk of North America: Ecology and Management,” committing myself to daily readings like one might approach bible study. One of the disciples of the book was Jack Ward Thomas.

Years later I took a job as the conservation editor for the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation's Bugle magazine, researching and writing articles about all things elk – natural history, ecology, behavior, habits and habitat and management. Naturally, one of my primary sources was Jack Ward Thomas.

In 2001, I had the honor of working with Jack, co-authoring a chapter to an updated version of "Elk of North America," this one called “North American Elk: Ecology and Management.”

Needless to say, I learned a lot from Jack Ward Thomas. A lot of people did.

On Thursday, May 26, after a long struggle with cancer, Jack Ward Thomas died at his home in Florence, Montana, surrounded by the love of his family. He was 81. He was a husband, father, veteran, scientist, author, professor and leader who contributed immensely to our knowledge of wildlife, forests and ecosystems and worked tirelessly to not only pass that knowledge on to others, but also to ensure that the science shaped management policies to help protect and enhance the future health of our wildlife and wild places.

After earning a bachelor’s degree in wildlife management from Texas A&M, in 1951, he spent the first ten years of his career with the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department before moving to West Virginia to work as a research biologist with the U.S. Forest Service. While there, he earned a master’s degree in wildlife ecology from West Virginia University. He then went on to head up a Forest Service research unit at the University of Massachusetts where he also earned his PhD in forestry in 1972.

In 1974, he moved to La Grande, Oregon to work as the chief research wildlife biologist and program leader at the Forest Service’s Forestry and Range Sciences Laboratory.  It was in Oregon where Jack conducted ground-breaking research on the impacts of logging, roads, off-road-vehicles and other factors on elk and elk hunting. His Blue Mountains Elk Initiative brought together researchers, land managers and wildlife managers in a monumental, collaborative research project that helped define terms and concepts such as elk vulnerability, habitat security, habitat effectiveness and how all those variables and more effect elk and elk hunting.

Jack also helped launch the Starkey Project in Oregon, a joint wildlife research project conducted by the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife and the Forest Service. The project measured the response of deer and elk to intensively managed forests and rangelands as well as open roads and various types and levels of motorized use. One of the most comprehensive field research projects ever attempted, studies examined key questions about elk, deer, cattle, timber, roads, recreation uses and nutrient flows on National Forests.

Results of Jack’s efforts were and continue to be worked into forest plans, and used by state wildlife agencies throughout the West to reduce the impact management activities can have on healthy, functioning ecosystems.

On December 1, 1993 Jack was appointed the 13th Chief of the U.S. Forest Service, a position he held until 1996. His approach to running the Forest Service can be summed up in his own words: "Always tell the truth and obey the law," and "We don't just manage land. We're supposed to be leaders. Conservation leaders. Leaders in protecting and improving the land."

After retiring from the Forest Service, he accepted a position as the Boone and Crockett Professor of Wildlife Conservation at the School of Forestry of the University of Montana in Missoula, Montana. (He once joked that "pontificating is easier than responsibility.")  He held that position until 2006 when he officially retired.

An avid and passionate elk hunter himself, Jack worked hard to help ensure the future of our hunting heritage, and was a staunch defender of public lands.  In 1995, at an Outdoor Writers Association of America conference I attended, Jack was asked if he thought proposals to sell our federal lands or turn them over to states was a good idea. This was his response:

"Speaking for myself, I won't stand for it. I won’t stand for it for me and I won't stand for it for my grandchildren and I won't stand for it for their children yet unborn. This heritage is too precious and so unique in the world to be traded away for potage. These lands are our lands -- all the lands that most of us will ever own. These lands are ours today and our children's in years to come. Such a birthright stands alone in all the earth. My answer is not just no, but hell no!"

Those of us who enjoy wildlife and public lands owe Jack Ward Thomas a great debt of gratitude.  His legacy lives on in the wild places we cherish.

Wolves: Helping Put The Hunt Back Into Hunting

An overabundance of elk and deer has negative consequences to the habitat that sustains elk, deer and other wildlife. Herds kept in check by wild predators are healthier herds.

Everything hunters claim to love about elk and deer -- their speed, their agility, their intelligence, their wariness -- came about through co-adaptation and co-evolution with predators. Wolves helped make elk and deer what they are. You can't love elk and deer without loving wolves.You can't love the wilds while hating a critical component of the wilds -- a wild animal that is the very essence of wildness.

The return of wolves has brought wildness back in elk and deer, and wild elk and deer are difficult to hunt; it takes knowledge, skill and effort -- traits sadly lacking in most modern-day hunters. Most hunters have no clue how to hunt. Instead of trying to learn, they blame wolves for their lack of skill, knowledge and effort.

Most hunters are obsessed with the latest gadgets and technology -- rifles, bows, scopes, ballistics, camouflage patterns, scents, calls, trail-cameras, ATVs and so on -- and forget that hunting equipment is meant to compliment skill and knowledge, not replace it. They seem to know little about the wildlife and wild places they hunt. They seem to lack respect for the wildlife and wild places they hunt. They think they are hunters.

We need more hunters, and less ignorant people walking around the woods with bows and rifles. We need to put hunters and the hunt back into hunting.

Instead of persecuting wild wolves, let's be grateful for wild wolves for helping to put the hunt back into hunting.

Same Old Bull

Eastern Elk: Are They Really Extinct?

John James Audubon's Rendition of Eastern Elk, 1847

Traveling along Interstate 95 from Washington, D.C., through Philadelphia to New York and north to New England -- a giant megalopolis of steel, concrete and asphalt from the Capitol to Boston -- you can still observe flocks of ducks and geese in the fragmented salt marshes, bunches of white-tailed deer in the small woodlots and, if you stopped and walked along the rocky beaches, you might see schools of striped bass, bluefish or mackerel passing through on their annual migrations along the Atlantic coast. It is difficult, however, to imagine herds of bison and elk roaming through country now so heavily urban. But they did -- at least 300 years ago.

When Italian explorer Giovanni da Verrazano sailed into New York Bay in 1524, bison and elk may have ranged across most of the East, from Massachusetts to Louisiana. In 1609 explorer Henry Hudson reported seeing Indians clothed in robes and moccasins made of bison skins when he landed on a small, wild island now known as Manhattan. In his 1966 book, The Elk, naturalist John Madson wrote ". . . elk were probably the most widespread of all American hoofed species, thriving from central California to the Atlantic savannahs; from Mexico into Canada. About the only places not occupied originally by elk were the Great Basin (most of Arizona, Nevada, and parts of Utah, Oregon and Washington), much of New England, eastern parts of the Atlantic coastal states, and sections of the deep South and Gulf Coast." Ernest Thompson Seton wrote extensively about North American elk during the late 1800s and early 1900s. In his seminal book, Lives of Game Animals, published in 1909, he cites explorers and trappers who recorded many sightings of elk in the East in the l6th, l7th and l8th centuries. He also describes their hasty extermination.

"There are few stories of blood lust more disgusting than that detailing the slaughter of the great Elk bands," Seton wrote. "The Deer of New England were killed off for the meat. But the wholesale massacre of the elk, like that of the Buffalo, was carried on for the joy of seeing the great creatures fall in dying agony; and, in later years, by tusk hunters who were too lazy to be hide hunters . . . The beginning of the nineteenth century saw the Wapiti perfectly described, catalogued, and started on the road to extermination. Thenceforth, travellers in Eastern America were obliged to record only the reminiscences of old settlers or the discovery of fossil horns and skulls."

In his Notes on the Mammals of Iowa, presented to the Boston Society of Natural History in 1871, J.A. Allen tells a fairly typical tale: "In the severer weather of winter they [elk] were often driven to seek shelter and food in the vicinity of the settlements. At such times the people not satisfied with killing enough for their present need, mercilessly engaged in an exterminating butchery. Rendered bold by their extremity, the elk were easily dispatched with such implements as axes and corn-knives, Now only a few linger where formerly thousands lived, and these are rapidly disappearing." 

Eastern elk, a subspecies believed to be extinct, were exterminated so quickly that it is difficult to determine their original range. The last few eastern elk probably holed up in isolated pockets of the northern Midwest, as Theodore Roosevelt wrote in Outdoor Pastimes of an American Hunter, published in 1905: 

"Its numbers were soon greatly thinned, and about the beginning of the present century it disappeared from that portion of its former range lying south of the Great Lakes and between the Centaurs and the Mississippi. In the northern Alleghenies it held its own much longer, the last individual of which [have been] able to record having been killed in Pennsylvania in 1869. In the forests of northern Wisconsin, northern Michigan, and Minnesota wapiti existed still longer, and a very few individuals may still be found." 

When the final few elk fell among the oaks of central Minnesota in the late 1890s, a unique subspecies may have been silenced forever. But not all eastern elk disappeared because of European exploitation. Although there is evidence elk lived in Alabama, Delaware, Rhode Island, and the southwestern peninsula of Ontario, they were gone before European settlers arrived. In the March, 1926 issue of the Canadian Field Naturalist archeologist W.J. Wintemberg speculated on why elk may have disappeared in southwest Ontario.

"The extinction of the Wapiti, if caused by man, may have been due to either Iroquois Indian hunters, who came into the country from what is now New York State, after the dispersion of the Hurons, Tobacco Nation, Indians, and Neutrals (1649-1651), or to the Missisauga, who succeeded the Iroquois in the occupation of the country," Wintemberg wrote. "These later comers probably hunted with guns instead of the bows and arrows of the earlier Indians, and this may have led to the speedy extinction of the animal; at any rate, it appears to have disappeared from the country before the beginning of British settlement, late in the eighteenth century."

But ornithologist L.H. Smith, writing in The Ottawa Naturalist, July, 1901, offered a different view of how elk may have disappeared from Ontario:

"The first settlers came into the township of Adelaide in 1832. There were no elk here then, and I have never been able to glean any information from them about this great deer, although I have spoken to many. The most interesting information I have been able to get of this animal is from an Indian on the Kettle Point Reserve, in the county of Lambton . . . He was an elderly man when I spoke to him, perhaps between 60 and 70 years of age. He knows nothing of the elk himself, but his father used to tell him stories of shooting them in that part of the country when he was young ... How these great deer became extinct here will, perhaps, ever remain, to naturalists, a hidden secret. The Indian did not annihilate it because they never killed to extermination. If disease overtook them, as it sometimes does the great white hare of the far north, it is only reasonable to think that others would have come to replace the dead, or the few, if any, left would have increased again. We are quite in the dark concerning them. What we do know, is that the grandest of North American deer once roamed here, but it was before the white man came." 

Whether or not eastern elk were truly a distinct subspecies is a matter of debate. Ever since Swedish naturalist Carolus Lennaeus founded the modern system of classifying animals in the mid-l8th century, taxonomists have argued over just what exactly species and subspecies are. In general, animals evolve into different species and subspecies after becoming geographically isolated from others, adapting to their different environments, and changing over time through the process of natural selection. Tule elk in California, for example, have been isolated from other populations of elk for thousands of years. They have gradually evolved physical and behavioral adaptations that reflect their habitat and climate. They have significantly smaller bodies than all other elk, as well as longer rows of teeth and, perhaps, a unique ability to recycle nitrogen-all traits that allow them to not only live in extremely hot, arid country, but to actually flout the heat by rutting in July and August when temperatures are regularly 115 degrees. Some biologists classify tule elk as a separate subspecies because they are visibly different. Others say tules are genetically the same as elk found anywhere on the continent and differ only because of the environment they inhabit. If you took tule elk from the semideserts and tule marshes of California and move them to the high-country timber and meadows of Colorado, scientists say, they would grow large bodies just like the Rocky Mountain elk -- therefore they are not a different subspecies.

Former Eastern Elk and Probable Dates of Extinction

All that said, most elk biologists accept the existence of four subspecies currently living in North America and two considered extinct. After elk crossed the Bering land bridge more than a million years ago, entering North America from Siberia, they spread throughout most of Canada and the United States and went through two periods of isolation during which different subspecies may have evolved. The first, known as the Wisconsin glacial stage, lasted about 70,000 years. The second, following the glaciation, lasted about 10,000 years. The periods of isolation created four different populations: Roosevelt's elk along the northwest coast, tule elk in western and interior California, the now-extinct Merriam's elk of the Southwest and northern Mexico and another group, the largest, which roamed much of the United States and Canada east of the Cascade and Sierra Nevada mountain ranges. This larger group may have been further isolated into three more groups when formation of the Great Plains divided the forests of the East from those of the West. The flat, open country of the plains, with its deep snow and cold winds, may have scattered the large herd as bands of elk split off and sought better forage and cover. One group, the Rocky Mountain subspecies, evolved in the western mountains. Another, the Manitoban, stuck it out on the plains. And eastern elk evolved in the hardwood forests. Whether these groups were truly isolated -- and, if so, isolated long enough to evolve into different subspecies -- may never be known.  

Elk of North America, edited by Jack Ward Thomas and Dale E. Toweill, states, "three of the six named subspecies of North American elk (Roosevelt's elk, Tule elk, and Merriam's elk) have met the basic criterion -- isolation -- necessary for the evolution of genetically distinct biological subspecies . . . Considering the available evidence, we do not think that the Eastern elk, Manitoban elk, and Rocky Mountain elk ever have been completely isolated from one another. We do think, however, that had the plains been allowed to continue their post-Wisconsin evolution, eventual isolation or near isolation of the elk populations might have occurred. It probably will never be known how well these three named subspecies of elk fitted the concept of biological subspecies."

If eastern elk were in fact different, few clues exist as to what may have distinguished them from other subspecies. Naturalist Vernon Bailey first split Rocky Mountain elk and eastern elk into separate subspecies in 1935, without having ever seen a single bone, antler or hide from an eastern elk. "At the time no existing specimen of elk from eastern North America was known to me," Bailey wrote in the Journal of Mammology, in 1937. "Hence my comparisons necessarily were based on incomplete descriptions by early writers and the excellent figure by Audubon in The Quadrupeds of North America." The figure Bailey refers to was drawn by John James Audubon around 1847 for the book he completed with Rev. John Bachman. As inspiration for his work, Audubon kept many live animals, including elk, on his private 30-acre estate called "Minnie's Land" (named for his wife) on the western shore of Manhattan, New York. "On our plate we have represented a pair of Elks in the foreground of a prairie scene, with a group of small figures in the distance; it gives but a faint idea of this animal in its wild and glorious prairie home," Bachman wrote of the painting, "The pair from which the figures on our plate were taken we purchased at Philadelphia: they had been caught when young in the western part of Pennsylvania; the male was supposed to be four or five years old, and the female was full grown. These Elks were transported from Philadelphia to our place near New York, and we had a capacious and high enclosure made for them."

A year after Bailey divided Rocky Mountain and eastern elk into different subspecies, he finally saw some physical evidence of eastern elk -- the skull, antlers and hide of a bull from Pennsylvania, killed in Potter County in 1853, and kept at the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. "This is the only existing specimen of the eastern elk that I have been able to locate in any museum, or that might be considered at all typical of Cevuus canadensis canadensis [eastern elk] ," Bailey wrote. "This specimen indicates a smaller, more slender, and more brightly colored animal than C. c. nelsoni [Rocky Mountain elk] . The antlers are comparatively light, with slender beams and very long, slender prongs, just as Audubon portrayed them in his colored drawing. In addition the skull is relatively long and narrow, and in every way the specimen shows a striking resemblance to Audubon's figure of a bull elk from the western part of Pennsylvania."

Bones, skulls and antlers of eastern elk still occasionally appear -- records of what once roamed the hardwood forests preserved within the earth. In 1987, a man named Peter Mouradian II of West Allis, Wisconsin, found a set of 150 to 200 year-old eastern elk antlers in a peat bog near Milwaukee. The Milwaukee Public Museum later excavated the site and unearthed the bull's skull, several bones and some teeth.

But there may be more remaining of the eastern elk than old skeletons. In 1905, 18 elk were introduced to Fjordland National Park in New Zealand -- a gift from Theodore Roosevelt. The elk were survivors of an original shipment of 20, half of which came from Yellowstone National Park and half from a game reserve in Massachusetts owned by an Indian agent named H.E. Richardson. The latter are believed to be eastern elk captured in northern Minnesota by Native Americans. John A. Anderson, a New Zealander who has studied Fjordland elk since the early 1960s, says the possible eastern elk bloodline might explain some unusual characteristics he has seen in New Zealand elk, such as "bifurcated" antlers in which the dagger, or fourth point, forks at the tip. "Up until 1960 we all thought the elk introduced into New Zealand were Roosevelt's elk, simply because Theodore Roosevelt donated them," Anderson says. "Roosevelt's elk may have bifurcated antlers and everyone was happy to accept that this was why we were getting these antler characteristics in the Fjordland herd . . . If some of the wapiti shipped to New Zealand in 1905 were caught locally by Indians,' this sheds a whole new light on the evolution of the herd in Fjordland."

Eastern elk could have also hung on in the extensive forests of Ontario. While evidence is sketchy, numerous people reported seeing a band of elk near Sault Saint Marie on the Michigan/Ontario border in the early 1980s. These elk could be of eastern origin -- and could still exist in the wilds of Ontario.

In the early 1930s, game managers reintroduced 24 Rocky Mountain elk into Ontario from Alberta. A census taken 10 years later showed the herd had increased to 300. Too many elk in too short a time, biologists say, for all the offspring to have originated from two dozen Rocky Mountain elk. That's led many to believe a remnant population of eastern elk may still exist." Paul Di Biasy, a Pennsylvania writer who has researched the origin of New Zealand elk and has a passionate interest in eastern elk, is convinced that remnant populations of the subspecies still exist. "It can be proved historically," he says. "But it's going to be difficult to prove scientifically. A lot of scientific work, such as genetic testing, needs to be done."

If there does exist a pure strain of eastern elk -- if a distinction can be made -- I would like to see it isolated, propagated and returned to the East," Di Biasy says. "I would love to see the reestablishment of wild elk herds in the eastern United States. The elk certainly should be back on their native range and, if possible, they should be of the eastern subspecies." 

Note: This article was originally published in the Spring, 1994 issue of Bugle Magazine.

A Hooded Punk Kid Marine Wolf-Loving Hunter

PART OF A FACEBOOK CONVERSATION I RECENTLY HAD WITH A HUNTER AND FISHERMAN FROM IDAHO FALLS:

• Ron Todd Summers: David, you rely on the studies of others whom have tainted your mind. Your still wet behind the ears and have a long ways to go before your opinion counts.

• David Stalling: Ron, I am 54 years old and have hunted, fished and roamed the wilds most of my life. I served in a Marine Corps Force Recon Unit; I earned degrees in forestry and journalism; I have worked for the U.S. Forest Service, Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, National Wildlife Federation and Trout Unlimited, and served two terms as the president of the Montana Wildlife Federation . . . I've also killed 26 elk, most with a bow. And I fish. I've spent most of a lifetime around and observing elk, wolves, grizzlies and other wildlife. How long do the back of ears stay wet? Please tell me, what else do I need to do, and how much longer do I have to go, to become as wise as you old guru?

• Ron Todd Summers: David, first off let me say, I am sorry for saying you are wet behind the ears. Your profile picture should be changed and its misleading. If the wolves didnt play an important part in thining out the herd in yellowstone, then in 1995 when they were introduced was a big lie.

• David Stalling: Ron, Of course the wolves played a role in thinning out the elk herds. And that's a good thing. Elk herds are back within their historical range of variability -- at healthy, sustainable levels -- the habitat and other wildlife are better off for it. Why should my profile pic be changed and how is it misleading? It's me. It was taken recently in the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness.

• Ron Todd Summers: You look like a 16 year old. I am surprised a hunter would support the reintroduction of wolves that are killing all our elk.

• David Stalling: Well, thanks . . . I think. I guess the wilds keep me healthy. I am kind of surprised a fly fisherman would be opposed to the reintroduction of a species that has helped restore healthy landscapes, including the critical riparian areas that help maintain healthy rivers and streams that sustain healthy trout populations.

• Ron Todd Summers: Your picture profile still makes you look like a kid. So now your saying wolves help fish?

• David Stalling: Thanks Ron. As I said, the backcountry keeps me healthy. You seemed a bit overly interested in my looks. A kid? You might consider getting new glasses. But yes, an overabundance of elk hammered the riparian communities in the Yellowstone area -- riparian areas are critical in maintaining the healthy, functioning river systems that sustain the fish you catch -- and the return of wolves has helped knock elk back to healthy, sustainable levels. As a result, the riparian areas have improved, as has the health of the rivers and streams that sustain the fish you like to catch. It's all connected -- there's lots of cogs to a wheel, and they all play a role. That is how healthy, functioning ecosystems work.

• Ron Todd Summers: No not interested in your looks. I am straight. You said you are 54 yoa, I simply pointed out that in the picture you look like a hooded punk kid. See and that explains a lot about you being confused. Fisherman have not caused the decline in elk and the wolves have not increased the cutthroat population. Do you know how messed up that sounds? I dont care what facts or studies you are basing this on, you will probably say next that the moon is responsible for the populations.

• David Stalling: A hooded punk 54-year old former Force Recon Marine kid wearing a backpack and mountain parka in the middle of the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness in the winter? Can you see okay? And how does that explain a lot about me being "confused?" You need to read up a bit on ecosystems and understand how they function. Learn about the wild places you claim to spend time in and understand.

• Ron Todd Summers: A hooded punk kid playing in the snow doesn't make you a marine in the bitterroot, and an expert on ecosystems. Still not interested and very straight.

 • David Stalling: Check out my latest album, available at most punk rock record stores:

Lessons From a One-Legged Elk Hunter

Seasoned hunters learn to pack a few essentials: a good, sharp knife; long johns, hat and gloves;  toilet paper . . . that sort of thing. This year, Gary Edinger brought along a spare leg – one with a bugling bull elk painted on the knee.  

When I first met Gary ten years ago he had both of his legs (the ones he was born with) and he put them to good use, scrambling and traipsing through wild, remote country in pursuit of elk. Which is where I made his acquaintance. It was a warm September afternoon and I was hurrying down a gated, overgrown logging road-turned trail, toward the wilderness boundary where I planned to drop down into a narrow, granite-walled basin of spruce, fir and meadow to pursue elk with my bow. But before I reached the end of the road, I came across a hunter headed out. I was discouraged and selfishly bitter. I figured the tiny basin I was headed into wasn’t big enough for more than one ambitious bowhunter trying to fool rutting bulls—and now it was tainted. But it is public wilderness, belonging to us all, so I feigned a smile and greeted the man with my best attempt at pleasantries.

He was tall and lanky, perhaps in his late 50s, unshaven and sweating from a steep uphill climb. From his looks and the amount of gear he carried I figured he had been in the backcountry for weeks. The pack on his back was the size of a military footlocker, bulging at all sides as if it could burst open any moment, with a canvas tent the size of a duffle bag tied to the top. I’d be reluctant to burden a mule with the load he carried. But I’ve long had an aversion to heavy rucks, which is why I carried a backpack the size of a pillow, probably lighter than the full-sized axe and saw he had lashed to his pack frame.

To my initial chagrin, he was eager to drop his pack, take a break and chat. So I reluctantly obliged. And soon we were sitting on the ground swapping elk yarns, laughing and enjoying our shared passion for elk and wild country. He’s a logger from Wisconsin, travels West most years, packs in by himself, and enjoys the solitude of backcountry elk haunts. It seemed we share lots in common; except for our notion of elk camp.  

“You just out for the day?” he asked, looking inquisitively at my pack. “Five or six, depending on the elk,” I said. “And you? Have you been out here long?” “Four days,” he replied. We looked at each other as if we’d both met a fool.

He normally packs in with horses and mules. He likes comfort, he explained, returning each evening from a hard day’s hunt to a fire, a warm tent a hot meal. I don’t return anywhere, I told him, but sleep where I am—near the elk – sustained by energy bars, jerky and the hopes of fresh elk tenderloin.

We kept in touch, on and off, for several years, but he eventually faded to a distant memory. Until last September. He got my number from a friend and invited me to come along on an elk hunt. He needed help. Turns out he had recently lost his leg in a logging accident when a maple he was felling barber-chaired off its stump, violently jumped out and severed his left leg below the knee. He lost so much blood he barely survived, but managed to crawl to his skidder, drive his skidder to his truck, drive his truck to within cell phone range, and call 9-1-1. When the medical helicopter arrived he was unconscious. 

But now he was ready to get back into elk country, and wanted company and help. With not much else to do I decided to tag along and see what it would be like to do things his way – horses, mules, wall tent, wood stove and big, hot meals. So he picked me up in Missoula in a large truck, hauling a trailer full of stock, and we drove to a trailhead on the Idaho side of the Selway Bitterroot Wilderness where he had an early rifle-season tag.

It wasn’t as easy as I thought, packing and loading a half dozen mules and horses and riding for nearly 13 hours – much of it in the dark – at first on main trails, then off onto some outfitter trails, and eventually what seemed like bushwhacking – riding up the bottom of a creek through and over thick blowdown, stopping often to cut out trees and re-establishing an old trail Gary had helped cut out years before. Though I came to appreciate the skill, knowledge and traditions of horsepacking, it seemed a lot of work. I could have hiked in faster. Sure, you can carry a lot of comfort on the back of livestock, but is it worth it? 

I also struggled philosophically. I’ve often gotten angry when I discover cut-out trails in remote wildlands that – as the wilderness act succinctly puts it – should be “untrammeled” by man. I resented helping Gary cut a trail into such a wild canyon. I didn’t keep my thoughts to myself, and before we even arrived to camp we became irritated and frustrated with each other over differing values, principles, beliefs, and views on many things. Gary thinks wilderness should be less restrictive and more accessible; I think we need to keep some places as wild as we can. He thinks the wolves are eating most of the elk; I think the return of wolves is a wonderful success story in the restoration of wildness. He’s glad few if any grizzlies still roam the Selway; I wish they came back with the wolves. I’m not so sure we should be hunting elk with rifles during the rut when mature bulls can be overly-vulnerable; he was out there to bugle them into rifle range and thrilled to be doing so.  And so on.

In sum: he is a rather conservative logger from northern Wisconsin; I am a fairly liberal tree-hugger from Missoula, Montana. Let’s just say during eight long days sharing a small wall tent together, things got rather tense at times. I spent two long days by myself, roaming the mountains, just to get away from him. The weather was warm, the country was drought-like dry, and we found no fresh elk sign nor heard a bugle or a grunt for days. Gary blamed the wolves; I think the elk were hanging mostly on the Montana side of the divide where there was more moisture this year, and where smart bulls seem to learn there is no early rifle season. I even ventured to the Montana side one afternoon by myself, and got some elk talking to me around some lush, green, wet meadows.

Then one afternoon, after not even speaking to each other for hours, an elk answered one of my calls. It snapped us both out of our doldrums and we both got pretty excited. We spent the next hour or so playing cat and mouse with the bull, sometimes him moving towards us, sometimes us sneaking in closer, me staying several yards behind Gary bugling and grunting while he impressively and adeptly climbed up and over and around brush and blowdown, rifle at the ready, as gracefully as anyone with two legs could do.  We worked together well, bonded by our common passion for the adrenaline of the hunt. And it eventually all came together. The bull came in silently, wearing an impressive 6x6 rack, while Gary and I waited behind a big, thick spruce log maybe 40 yards away. For me, the hunt was tainted when Gary  wounded the bull. We had to track it down several times and it eventually took Gary six shots to kill the elk.

Soon after the kill we fell back to disagreement (Gary doesn't think animals suffer). But we made relatively smooth, quick work of the boning out and packing meat to camp, and I was happy for his success. Then I thought of this: Despite our differences; despite our lack of compatibility; despite our differing views of the world, we both love elk and elk country and the notion of securing our own meat from the wilds. Though Gary and I will unlikely spend time in the mountains again, I have tremendous respect for him.

I found the entire hunt symbolic of us hunters as a whole; we’re all different, of course, and we have what can sometimes be bitter, contentious disagreements. But when we need to, we come together for common causes. It’s what I love most about groups like the Montana Wildlife Federation and Backcountry Hunters and Anglers, with their diverse membership interests. Yes, there’s sometimes tension and disagreement amongst us. But as we have proved over and over again, we work together when we need to, setting aside our differences to protect our common interests – a passion for the wildness, wildlife and the hunt.

Of Hunting, Elk and Sex Lines

I recently pulled a few consecutive all-nighters struggling to write an overdue essay for the Center for Humans and Nature I had (as is typical of me) procrastinated on far too long. The topic: “DoesHunting Make us Human?”  I started the piece with an anecdote about a friend of mine who -- while hunting in the remote Tatshenshini Provincial Park along the British Columbia-Yukon border -- discovered the headless but mostly well-preserved remains of a fellow hunter from long ago who had been exposed at the foot of a melting glacier.  “Kwaday Dan Sinchi,” he is called by First Nations people, “Long Ago Person Found.”  

But I couldn’t remember how old the remains were.  I had written a story about it years ago for the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation’s Bugle magazine. So I decided to call my friend Dan, the magazine’s editor, to see if he could look it up for me. Since I did not have Dan’s phone number on me, I decided to call the 1-800-CALL ELK line to reach the Elk Foundation and ask the receptionist to transfer me to Dan. 

Although I spent ten wonderful years as the conservation editor of Bugle, and I think Bugle remains the finest hunting-related conservation magazine out there, I always feel a bit awkward calling them. I’ve had a falling out of sorts with the organization, and have vocally and publicly had a few strong disagreements with the current leadership, particularly with their harsh stance against wolves. I have since been banished from writing for Bugle and shunned by much of the staff.  When I call, I feel a bit like I need to do the over-the-phone, verbal equivalent of wearing a fake nose and glasses and and disguise my voice for fear they’ll hang up on me (admittedly pure paranoia on my part).  

Nevertheless some good friends I respect work there, such as Dan, and I was desperate for the information.

So I called 1-800-CALL ELK.   

Or thought I did. I was so exhausted I apparently dialed 1-800-CALL EEK.   

EEK indeed! Instead of hearing an expected, pleasant greeting from the Elk Foundation receptionist I instead heard the automated voice of woman seemingly trying to sound sexy:

“Welcome to America’s hottest talk line. Ladies: To talk to interesting and exciting guys for free, please press one now. Guys: Hot ladies are waiting to talk to you! Press two to connect for free now. Ladies: Press one now. Guys: Press two now.”

There was no option to press three for guys wanting to talk to interesting and exiting guys for free. Maybe it’s a right-wing, homophobic Christian sex line. But even so, you’d think they’d at least welcome the closeted ones among them -- and I am certain there are many.  

So I hung up. Likely a good thing; I do not need more excuses and distractions to procrastinate.

I dialed 1-800-CALL ELK again and got it right the second time around, got hold of Dan and he found the number for me. 

By the way: Kwaday died 550 years, presumably from falling in an ice-crevice while hunting -- long, long before there were 1-800-SEX lines.