“The air was clear, with a crystalline, breathless quality that comes only when the temperature falls well below zero. A southeast wind had been at work, shoveling snow across the Flats and stashing it in the lee of anything that stood off the ground. The elk were restless and swirled like a shoal of fish. Wheeling into the wind, they headed for shelter in the aspen groves near Wolf Creek. Earlier in the night, just after twilight gave out and the moon reared up in the east, they heard the wolve...s howling back in the Madisons. Later, over the hissing snow and grass, they heard them again from somewhere closer. Moving across the plain, the elk stretched out into a ragged column. A handful of the older cows went first, picking their way through the scattered glacial cobble. Then came the hoi polloi, the vast, dark majority of the herd. Innumerable cows, calves, and young spike bulls bunched together against the cold and the night. The big bulls stayed mostly toward the rear, following the herd and nodding their weighty racks at the stars.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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