Bio: Daughter of Frank and Inge Galey grew up on the ranch, 1940s to mid 1960s. Descriptor: The adventure of following the bugling of bull elk during rut season with dad.
Cynthia’s Story: FOLLOWING A BUGLE, Cynthia Galey Peck. “Let’s saddle up; see if we can find the elk and watch them bugle,” Dad said. One fall evening, the dudes having gone east to winter, the family, Dad, Mom, the dogs and I was sitting on the east facing porch overlooking the ranch pond, Blacktail Butte and Sheep Mountain (commonly called the Sleeping Indian), when we heard elk bugling in the timber. “I’ll go,” I said as I headed toward the door. “I’ll keep the dogs here and start dinner,” said Mom. A bull elk bugles to attract cow elk and warn other bulls to stay away from his harem. He will protect his harem from any competing bulls. Sometimes I have heard the clash of their antlers in a fight. A guide saw two elk carcasses, the antlers locked together from such a fight, however that is really unusual. We rode quietly through the old, thick lodge pole forest, the low hanging sun filtering between the trees causing bright streaks on the huckleberry bushes and flashing in our eyes. We dipped into Swamp Creek where the colder moist air penetrated my clothes causing me to shiver until we climbed up the other side. Following the sound of the bugling, we traversed a small ridge paralleling the creek to the marsh. As we sat silently on our quietly grazing horses a six point bull elk came into the opening before us. He sniffed the air and grunted as he searched for a scent of cows in heat. Then he threw back his head, his antlers straddling his back and let out an ear piercing bugle. Three grunts punctuated his bugle causing his stomach to contract with each sharp exhalation, challenging any possible bulls in the area. The beauty and wildness of the scene gave me goose bumps. As we wandered through the park, he stopped to bugle. Occasionally, he would attack a sapling, scraping the velvet from his antlers and stripping the bark off the tree. The marsh was a large irregular shaped low area surrounded by lodge pole pine on the slightly higher ground. It had many seeps in which thick clumps of willow thrived, between the open grassy parks. The seeps created narrow deep channels in which the water ran. Grass grew over these channels making them difficult to see. Years of heavy snow fall made the marsh so wet and boggy that a horse couldn’t cross it. In dry years there was a well-defined game trail traversing it. Dad and I followed the trail in hope of seeing more game. As we came by a clump of willows we saw a small herd of grazing cow elk with a large bull standing guard. As soon as he detected our presence, he circled his harem chasing them through the willows and into the protective timber. The bull followed them as a rear guard.