On a Sunday afternoon, neighbor Joyce asked if I’d like to go see elk at the visitor’s center in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We talked non-stop both ways as she drove on small roads through Maggie Valley, over the mountain to Cherokee, and on to the center. Joyce knew that this was the mating season for elk, called the Rut. I took her photo on the big porch of the visitor’s center to show the mountains in the background and the field where the elk often gather. We knew it was late in the season and that we might not see any of the animals.

We walked on the path along the creek and saw men feeding and hosing down some pigs. The path was lined with old buildings, brought to the site to show how people lived long ago.

Joyce kept looking in the woods and spotted an elk walking toward the field. He made the high-pitched whistling sound called bugling. I was thrilled to hear it. (There are many recordings, easy to call up on Google.)

A female emerged from another part of the woods. At some point we saw a third one. They were all grazing and not paying attention to each other. I took this photo to show the road into the park. People often pull off the road to watch the animals, although here they were driving slowly. We left as the sun was setting, still able to see the changing colors of the trees. It was a marvelous excursion.