32 
FOREST AND STREAM 
January, 1918 
A HUNTER’S STORY OF BATTLING ELK 
A DUEL BETWEEN RIVAL MONARCHS OF THE GLACIER NATIONAL PARK RE¬ 
GION ENDS IN DEATH FOR BOTH AND A NARROW ESCAPE FOR THE HUNTER 
As told by E. S. BRYANT to F. C. LORING 
I N the fall of the year 1915 I was hunt¬ 
ing in the South Fork region of the 
Flathead River. 
A number of years before I had killed 
several fine elk. For a few years there¬ 
after k was loath to 
kill such fine ani¬ 
mals merely for 
sport. About the 
year 1910 T wanted 
a fine head but 
failed to get it, and 
finally in 1915 I 
went into the hills 
south of Glacier 
National Park de¬ 
termined that I 
would kill no elk 
until I had thor¬ 
oughly looked him 
over. This brought 
me a real experi¬ 
ence, in which I was 
obliged to break my 
resolve. 
In company with 
Carl Sagan, who 
had never hunted 
elk but was a fine 
deer hunter, we 
struck off to the elk 
country. The first 
day after climbing 
to another basin 
near camp, I sug¬ 
gested waiting at 
the end of the pass 
to see if we could 
hear an elk bugling 
before we climbed 
higher. Almost as soon as we had stopped 
we heard a noise under us. It reminded 
me of someone chopping wood. My com¬ 
panion sasd, “Bucks fighting.” I replied 
that there were no deer up there. “Buck 
elk,” he replied; and so it proved to be. 
We moved down a little closer where we 
could see better and discovered a small 
four point bull engaged in combat with a 
far larger bull elk. Their action was so 
swift that we could only conjecture as to 
what was really happening. It seems the 
small elk was using a tree as a guard. As 
the larger animal rushed at him on one 
side the smaller ran around the tree and 
gored him in the rear. The big bull mad 
with rage would turn and the action would 
be reversed. When sometimes the larger 
crowded the small one away from the pro¬ 
tecting tree—he rushed at the small one, 
swinging his head like a man swinging a 
scythe. The small one kept jumping back¬ 
ward, apparently catching each blow on his 
antlers. Thus they fought in and out of 
sight until they locked antlers. So far 
they had not been aware of our 
presence. 
Then they came up side by side at a fierce 
gallop all eight hoofs hitting the ground to¬ 
gether and passing within fifty feet of us. 
When out of sight in the timbers we heard 
two pitiful cries. If the reader has ever 
heard the squeal of an elk then he can ap¬ 
preciate the sound. Then all was silence. 
As we tried to approach them we saw the 
smaller bull walking quietly toward 11s, but 
not yet aware of our presence. He showed 
escape by the way of the pass. I then 
thought what a fine opportunity to take a 
picture as he passed—if I only had the 
necessary photographic apparatus. 
But I learned that he had no intention of 
passing me by. As 
he neared my posi¬ 
tion I noticed a pe¬ 
culiar look on his 
face. H e would 
elevate one nostril, 
then the other. I 
discovered that he 
was grinding his 
teeth, and taking it 
all together, he had 
about the meanest, 
fiercest, most terri¬ 
fying look of any 
animal that I had 
ever seen. I thought 
that I had better 
not let him on the 
same side of the 
gulch with me and 
resolved to shoot 
when he came to 
the edge, a distance 
of perhaps one 
hundred feet. 
H 
The result of an elk hunt in the Montana Rockies 
considerable excitement. Every now and 
then he tossed his head up and down as a 
horse often does'. My companion wished to 
shoot him but I objected, because I could 
plainly see that the elk was no more than 
a four or five pointer at the most. Sagan 
remarked, “He looks big enough for 
me!” 
As the elk passed out of sight I decided 
to climb down the mountain where he had 
been seen standing, hoping that I might 
locate the big bull. At the same time I 
cautioned my companion not to shoot down 
there under any circumstances. In a few 
moments I came to a gulley so full of 
brush that I could go no farther. I saw 
that by going to the head of the gulch I 
could come down on the other side. I had 
not gone far before I discovered that the 
small bull now saw me for the first time. 
He immediately threw up his head and 
began trotting towards me. Thinking he 
mistook me for an elk I waved my hat at 
him but the more I waved the more he 
tossed his head up and down. It didn’t 
occur to me then that he was coming for 
me. I supposed that he dared not go down 
the hill for fear of running into the big 
bull and since he couldn’t climb the moun¬ 
tain behind him, because it was too steep, 
he was obliged to attempt to pass me by 
the head of the gulch in order to make his 
E came on to 
the edge, still 
tossing his 
head up and down. 
I immediately aimed 
for the center of 
his brisket and fired. 
To my astonishment 
he never flinched. 
This was my first experience of a hit elk 
that didn’t flinch—although I have had 
them get up afterward and travel hundreds 
of yards. My first thought was—I must 
have missed. However, the shot turned 
him toward the head of the gulch for 
which I was thankful. On reaching its 
head I saw to my horror that he was com¬ 
ing around toward me, and I moved 
toward four trees about twenty feet away 
which looked suitable for protection, and 
offered a good chance to fight around. I 
fired two shots as quickly as possible, aim¬ 
ing at his heart, and saw that I had broken 
a fore leg. The second shot as I after¬ 
ward learned went through his lungs, leav¬ 
ing a hole at its exit as large as an 
orange. Still the beast came on. -The situ¬ 
ation was now getting desperate. I 
thought he would reach me in a few sec¬ 
onds and as I had time for only one more 
shot, and I had better place it carefully. As 
I was about to fire he threw his head down 
with his jaw placed against his shoulder— 
the broken' leg not interfering with his 
forward progress in the least. I tried to 
break his neck, but try as I might, it was 
impossible to keep the bead on him. It 
seemed as though I could see nothing but 
evergreens through the peep sight. 
Finally in desperation I pulled the trig¬ 
ger and he dropped to his knees, running 
