The Old Lady of Cataloochee - An Evening with Elk #20
Image: Elk cow No. 20 stands against a backdrop of ancient Appalachian mountains in Cataloochee Valley.
On a rainy July evening, I took a chance and made the long, winding trip up to Cataloochee Valley in the hopes of seeing one of my favorite elk in the park - #20.
She was only a yearling when she was transported from Land Between the Lakes in Kentucky as part of Great Smoky Mountains National Park’s elk reintroduction program (which you can read more about in this blog). Her cohort thrived in the park, quickly adapting to the new habitat and making it their home. There is no doubt that she and her offspring have made a huge impact on the herd as it stands today. As a matriarch, she continues to pass on her years of hard-earned wisdom to the newest generations.
At 24 years of age, she is the last surviving member of the original reintroduction and has far outlived the average life expectancy of an elk (~15 years). Her left eye is bulging and blue with a blinding cataract. Her ears are grizzled and her sharp ribs and hip bones stick out against a haggard frame. Instead of the rich chestnut color of a typical elk, her fur is a pale gray. Don’t be fooled, though. #20 is still spry and plays fun “pranks” on our biologists!
Over the past four or so years, the Old Lady has given park biologists numerous death scares. Her collar hardly works and will send out a mortality beep every time she lays down for a particularly long nap. Not only that, but she likes to overwinter in the thick backcountry forests of the Balsam Mountains, out of reach of park rangers. Every year, just when our biologists are sure that she has finally passed away, she will show up in mid summer looking like a corpse reanimated. When she hadn’t shown up during her usual time this season, they were adamant that she was dead. Even when her collar pinged in the valley, they guessed that a bear had somehow gotten her collar stuck around its neck. You can imagine their surprise when they found her sleeping by the road in late June, completely oblivious to the baffled rangers.
At this point, I think this old girl runs solely off of spite.
Image: #20 in the fall of 2023, looking completely unimpressed with a rutting bull just out of frame. She is far too old to have calves anymore, but she still likes to hang around the herd!
A light rain blanketed the valley on this July evening. As I drove along the empty road, I spotted a small herd of cows trailed by a familiar bull - Palmer, still in velvet but already acting like a bigshot. As entertaining as it was to watch him try and fail to gain the attention of the girls, I didn’t stay for long. I had another elk to find.
Driving up the road past the chapel and just before the Caldwell house, I was shocked to see a set of recognizable scruffy ears sticking up out of the grass. #20, in all of her ragged glory, was out in the open. Now, all I had to do was wait for her to stand.
I sat along a walking trail that cut through the field. Even though it was the middle of summer, a combination of rain and Cataloochee’s high elevation ensured that the temperature remained at a comfortable 70 degrees. #20 was enjoying the cool weather, and she seemingly had no interest in entertaining me or the other elk who walked past her. She was so unbothered, in fact, that I began to worry if she had died in the middle of the field as the hours ticked by.
Then there was movement. She raised her head, eyes still closed like she hadn’t quite woken up yet. She posed like that for a bit before she stood on stiff legs. You could almost hear the sound of her joints popping into place. I assumed that she would try to catch up with the small herd that had passed her by an hour ago, but she turned her back to them and began grazing in a different direction. When you’ve lived as long as #20 has, I suppose I can’t blame you for not wanting to get involved in some pre-rut drama.
Image: #20 grazes on short grasses. You can really see that cataract in this image!
I spent that evening photographing her, coming away with some images that I was quite happy with. Even more so, I was content with simply sharing a peaceful space with her. I must admit, I was saddened to see so many cars and eager tourists drive right by her. Of course, they don’t know her story or anything about the life that she has lived. But she was so easily overlooked in light of the energetic Palmer at the other end of the field, a much more attractive example of an elk in the Smokies. When people want to see our elk, they don’t want to see one who looks malnourished and who has lost her sense of hearing. They want to see the biggest and strongest bull in his prime or, at the very least, a well-kept cow.
#20 is far from the prettiest elk in the Park. In fact, most visitors are off-put by her “zombie-like” appearance. However, I find her to be one of the individuals I am always the most excited to see. Partly because it means she’s lived to see another day, but more so because of hard work and determination she represents, not just on the elk’s part, but on the park service as well. The resilience of these animals, coupled with a small but dedicated team of biologists, park rangers, seasonals, and volunteers, has ensured a future for elk in the Appalachians. If nothing else, she deserves some recognition for surviving as long as she has!
So next time you are driving through Cataloochee Valley and have to do a double take of an undead elk beside the road, remember to pause for a moment and appreciate #20. She has lived a life so few of us could even begin to imagine.
