Some stories are simply the result of serendipity. On this particular day, I wasn’t out to do any photography and I wasn’t looking for anything particular. I was simply driving to town in Jackson from my home in Kelly to take care of some errands. A bit of adulting.
Driving past the snowy white landscape of the National Elk Refuge on an early December morning during a particularly snowy year, I noticed a beige stripe running up the east side of Miller Butte in the distance. As I continued down the highway, gradually getting closer to it, the line morphed into a graceful curve. I was so struck by the oddity of the beauty of the shape that, for my own protection, I pulled over into the first pullout I could find.
My initial thought was that there had been a large avalanche, tearing up the ground beneath and leaving the exposed dirt visible. But then I noticed it moving, like a giant creeping snake or slug would. It was then that I made out what I was actually looking at. A massive herd of elk was making its way up the butte, several in a row, following each other while winding through the easiest route up the steep hillside.
The natural beauty of a simple migration was striking. I fired off only a few shots, but that was all that I needed. In moments, the bottom of the curve had been pulled up with the rest of the herd, leaving a less impactful scene. In just a few minutes, I was back on my way down the highway, and the scene was gone.