Navigating Human Landscapes: Elk Conflicts Along Roadways in the Smokies

On the morning of June 15th, 2024, I woke up before dawn to head to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park to try and photograph elk calves. I had high hopes for what I would see that morning, as there was a cool mist clinging to the fields that surround the Oconaluftee Visitor Center after a light rain the night before. As I entered the park, however, I was met with a tragedy that had occurred only hours prior. The body of an elk lay along the edge of the grassy median, and a trail of blood stained the road as if she had been thrown on impact and skidded across the pavement. The scene was so fresh that the crows had not even descended upon her yet. This was a known cow, collared and tagged as 273, and she had been struck by a vehicle. This was my first time seeing the aftermath of an elk colliding with a car, and it broke my heart.

273 was one of three elk who had been killed by vehicle strikes in four short weeks. That is 3.75% of the entire elk population in and around Oconaluftee, which numbers around 80 individuals. Wildlife biologists had been following her for a while because it was possible that she was pregnant. While this is not confirmed, the possibility alone is upsetting.

In the Smokies, adult elk do not have to worry about predators. Black bears will occasionally prey on calves, but they are not able to take down a mature bull or cow. Vehicles are, in fact, the only thing they really have to stress about. Of all things that kill our elk every year, car strikes are by far the highest cause of mortality. Additionally, elk can defend themselves against bears and travel to the mountaintops to protect their calves from predation. They can not, however, avoid roads. Humans have molded a landscape where roadways fragment vital elk habitat, forcing them to traverse roads daily in order to access feeding, calving, and breeding grounds. Even though experienced adults have learned how to navigate roadways, it only takes one vehicle coming around a curve too fast to catch an elk off guard.

Image: A young elk cow runs across the road near the Oconaluftee Visitor Center to access a larger field with the rest of her herd. She made it across without incident, but not all elk are as lucky.

Yearling males, particularly, are very prone to strikes. Perhaps it is their testosterone, which makes them unpredictable. Maybe it’s simply coincidence. Whatever the case, it is rare to find a yearling bull who hasn’t been clipped by a car at some point in his young life.

Only a few days after 273’s passing, I came across a sickly looking bull by himself in a small field. His back leg was swollen to the size of a football with infection, and white bone was sticking out of his skin. It was the middle of June, and he hadn’t even shed his winter coat. He had this injury for a while, and it was slowly killing him. I took a few close ups of the wound and sent it to the park biologist, who confirmed that it was a compound fracture. The NPS generally has a hands-off policy with the elk and whatever injuries they may sustain, but exceptions are made for unnatural ailments; in other words, anything caused by man. In this case, there was nothing we could possibly do for him. Just like horses, injuries to the legs are very difficult to treat and almost impossible to repair. The only humane option was euthanasia. Even though 273’s death was hard, this one was even more difficult. She got to live a good life. This bull had barely even begun his.

Vehicle collisions don’t always lead to death, however. Many elk in the national park carry injuries from car strikes that have healed over. For example, one of our older cows has an ankle that is splayed to the side, yet she has managed to raise calves. Others suffer from limps or are missing patches of fur along their flank. One of the most famous and well-known amongst both park service members and the public is a 6-7 year old bull I call Soldier.

Soldier was hit when he was a calf. It is almost unheard of for an elk so young to survive, but he somehow powered through. His shoulder was dislocated, which should have seriously affected his quality of life. And, undoubtedly, it has changed the way he lives and interacts with other elk. But, almost in spite of park biologists and visitors alike, he perseveres. He’ll never have the opportunity to be herd bull, but he spars with other males. He cannot follow the big boys to their summer feeding grounds, but he makes it through the cold winters and delights any tourist who lays eyes on him. He will never have calves of his own, but he is gentle with those he meets, so much so that their moms don’t seem to have any reservations about him hanging around. This is highly unusual, as any other bull is chased off the second calves drop.

Soldier is the prime example of the sheer determination and will elk have, even when faced with near-death scenarios.

Image: Soldier standing in a wetland near the road in the summer of 2023. He was collared and numbered as M3 by the state, but this collar has since been removed.

The national park service is not blind to this plight. If you are ever driving down 441 in the evening, usually between 3:30 - 8:00, you will likely see volunteers in bright orange vests patrolling the area between the park entrance and Smokemont campground. These are the Luftee Rovers, and their whole job is to escort elk across the road.

Well, that’s partly true. Originally, their job was to manage visitors who like to try and get too close to the elk. This is still an important part of their work, but they spend more time mitigating road crossings and traffic than anything else. Armed with large red stop signs and a passion for elk, these folks are really on the front lines of keeping our herd safe, and I would be remiss to not give them a shout out here!

Truly, I have never met a group of people more determined to help the elk in any way they can. Many of our rovers have law enforcement or teaching experience, and they are more than happy to talk to curious visitors about elk in the national park! I think education is the best way to encourage people to protect wildlife and natural spaces, which is my hope with this article.

Image: An elk cow darts across the road as a Luftee Rover stops traffic.

Speeding kills elk. It also kills black bears, coyotes, foxes, snakes, salamanders, birds, and deer. Adhering to speed limits when driving through the National Park or any other wildlife area is vital to protect the species that live there. We must remember that we share a planet with them, and they did not chose to put busy roads through their home. Just following the law, however, is not always enough. It is important for us to be on alert, especially when driving at night. Elk, unlike predatory mammals, do not possess eyeshine. They are almost impossible to see in the dark until you are a few feet away from them. Thus, we should drive with extreme caution when dark.

We all have our part to play to ensure the survival and recovery of this species and others in the Smokies!