The first stop was not so far past the border.
We drove along and when we saw "the elk ranch", we looked to see if we could see any elk as we always do, and this time there were quite a few large bulls near the fence. Usually you only see one or 2 off in the distance. I said: "Hey! Let's stop and take a picture." We pulled over to this little pull-off area, only to see a sign that said: "Plase do not park here, it stresses the elk. Visitors are welcome at the gate." So we drove over to the gate, which was really just a driveway and we pulled in and a grizzled looking fellow came over, actually wearing cover-alls and sporting a beard that looked as if it hadn't seen a trim in many a year. I momentarily thought of "Deliverance". But he was a pleasant fellow and told us we could walk up and take as many pictures as we wanted, and that he even had a pet elk that we could pat! Steven thought for sure that it was going to be a stuffed toy, or a mount, but it was a live elk named Swift. A bull elk, no less. I never thought (and nor did Steven) that I would ever get to pet ANY elk, never mind a bull! Normally they either run like the wind, or gore you. So we touched this gorgeous animal, scratched him under the chin like a big, old dog, and he just stood there for a moment or 2, then he sauntered off. It gave me goosebumps to look into his eyes, not 6 inches away.
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