Dear Elk,

Lest you think you can skate by on a technicality, let me be clear: this letter is addressed to Elk singular, not plural. You know who you are.

And okay, I get it – what could be funnier than parking yourself mere yards from my tent last night, in order to make loud bugle calls from 11:30pm until 4:30am?

After the adrenaline-jolt of waking to your loud yell, it took me awhile to decide on what you were. You provided ample example calls for my consideration. They were all short – a single note. Extraordinarily loud, but some of them slipped down low at the end, nearing a cross between a growl and a rumble. That’s what gave me the most pause. I’ll be honest – it was a pretty decent Bigfoot impression.

You weren’t deterred by me rustling around in my tent, or the glow of my headlamp. And no, I wasn’t going to go outside in the dark just to verify if you were Bigfoot or not.

I considered a type of wildcat. An adolescent bear who was really struggling to get the hang of carrying on a conversation. But what gave you away, eventually, were the distant, plaintive and familiar multi-note elk calls that occasionally answered you from off in the distance.

“Shut up,” I imagined them saying. They sounded exasperated to my sleep-adled brain. “Would you please be quiet and let us get some sleep?”

You just bleated back, making no move to go join your friends, and I can imagine your reply. “No can do, Charles. I found a human, and they aren’t about to get up in the middle of the night to fight a maybe-elk, maybe-Bigfoot. I’m having too much fun.”

Eventually your friends gave up, too, and you trumpeted alone until the sky lightened.

Did you hope to ruin this section of my hike? If so, I’ve got some fun news for you, buddy. You didn’t even come close.

Exhibit A:

I got to check out the remains of a 1950s airplane. Even though it was mostly just the engine and some frame left, it was super cool. Just look at it!

Exhibit B:

I took a slight detour from the PCT to climb Norse Peak, and ended up spending the night at the top. I had incredible views of Mt. Rainier and Mt. Adams, as well as views of a herd of either mountain goats or sheep grazing on a distant hill (they were very well behaved, by the way), and I watched both the sun set and rise from my campsite on the rocky peak. The stars were vast and brilliant that night, and it was one of the most perfect nights of my life.

Exhibit C:

And oh yeah I’ve had the most amazing views while hiking as well.

I know I’m getting carried away, but listen, if I had to listen to YOU all night, you can at the very least put up with this letter.

I know you were too proud to leave without taking credit, or maybe you just wanted the last laugh, but joke’s on you, because your mid-morning encore gave you away. For closure’s sake, I do appreciate you trumpeting loud and clear once more at 10am from the nearby clearing just as I was packing up my tent. I left my stuff and rushed over, and sure enough, you were an elk. Gotcha. Tawny ash color, but scarcely taller than me. I should have guessed you were a teenager.

You slipped into the trees right before I could take your mugshot, so this letter is just to let you know, I saw you.

I know who you are.

If we ever meet again, I hope you’re prepared for a sleepless night of your own, because now that I know for sure you’re just an elk, I’m not afraid to yell back.

Signed sincerely,

Your Nemesis

P.S. If you’re not too scared of a showdown, I’m currently in White Pass, WA. Your move.

P.P.S.