"Michigama Wapiti"

Photo by R.W.Kropf -- From A Pigeon River Country Album

Elk in the Pigeon River Country

by David Stalling

The following article appeared in the Spring 1994 issue of BUGLE, the Journal of ELK and the Hunt. We wish to thank the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation for the permission to reproduce this article and the accompanying article on Eastern Elk.

David Stalling is the RMEF's conservation writer.

Every now and then in Michigan a farmer plowing a field, or a road crew digging into the earth, will excavate the remains of a mammoth, mastodon, musk-ox, giant beaver or some other immense animal that roamed the area more than 8,000 years ago. Even the remains of whales have been found, reminding us just how much the land and the creatures that have roamed it have changed since the passing of the last ice age. More frequently, however, residents of the Wolverine State discover bones and antlers of a more recent occupant -- elk.

When French explorer Jean Nicolet traveled through Michigan in 1634, searching for the fabled Northwest Passage, throngs of elk lived int he area. But in less than 150 years they nearly went the way of the more prehistoric animals -- never to roam the woods and bogs of Michigan again. By the time Henry Ford began rolling Model Ts off his Detroit assembly line in 1908, the bugle of elk no longer resounded from the tattered remnants of the pine and hardwood forest that once stretched unbroken from Lake Huron to Lake Michigan.

Today, however, elk are back -- more than 1,500 of them. They make up the largest herd of wild elk -- and the only hunted population -- east of the Mississippi. Although the eastern subspecies is gone forever, this band of Rocky Mountain transplants has rekindled a bit of the magic of wilder days.

When Wolverines Still Roamed

Vast forests of white pine, tamarack, oak, maple, beech, ash and numerous other trees once covered 90 percent of Michigan. Huge trees, small meadows, thousands of rivers and streams, and more than 1,000 lakes furnished nourishment and shelter for countless elk, deer and other wildlife that, in turn, helped feed the Chippewas, Ottawas and Pottawatomis -- three tribes of Algonquins that hunted and fished the "Michigama" or "Great Lakes" country.

Journals of early explorers and naturalists describe Michigan as a land of abundance.

"The prairies were filled with an incredible number of bears, wapiti, white-tailed deer, and turkeys, on which the wolves made fierce war," an explorer named Allouez wrote in 1680 while traveling between Lake Erie and Lake Michigan. A map dated 1855 said this about Michigan: "The wild animals are yet numerous, especially in the northern part of the southern and throughout the northern peninsula. These consist of the elk, deer, wolverine, black bear, wolf, panther, moose, wild cat, lynx, fox, raccoon, marten, porcupine, skunk, weazel [sic] , opossum, gopher, rabbit, several varieties of squirrel, marmont [sic], hare, minx [sic], otter, beavers, and muskrat."

Rumors about the great forests and abundance of wildlife prompted Entienne Brule'-- a French woodsman sent by Samuel de Champlain to live among the Huron Indians near Lake Simcoe in Canada -- to make the first European exploration of Michigan in 1619. His reports helped pave the way for rapid exploitation.

Father Jacques Marquette founded the first settlement at Sault Ste. Marie in 1668; Rene'de la Salle built a fort at the mouth of St. Joseph in 1679, and Antoine Cadillac founded Detroit in 1701. When the British wrested control of Michigan from the French in 1763, trappers supplied the booming fur trade with an exorbitant wealth of hides from beaver, fox, mink, otter, marten, lynx, weasels and bears. The fur-bearing animals quickly disappeared, but the elk hung on -- although they, too, were slaughtered for their meat, hides and teeth.

By the time the United States took over Michigan after the war of 1812, Native Americans had been driven west and the area beckoned to settlers. The completion of the Erie Canal in 1825 allowed easy access to Michigan through the Great Lakes. Stories of fertile land and a pleasant climate, spurred an outbreak of "Michigan fever." Traders, farmers, miners and lumberjacks flocked to the state.

The timber, farming and mining booms that followed took a heavy toll on wildlife and their habitat. By 1869, Michigan led all states in lumber production, and by 1879 produced more copper than anywhere else in the world. The seemingly endless forests fell to fuel Michigan's flourishing ship-building industry, to help make Grand Rapids the furniture-making capital of the nation, and to help rebuild Chicago after the Great Fire of 1871. This insatiable appetite for lumber soon transformed the towering forest into a sea of stumps.

Then came the fires-following years of drought and fueled by tremendous amounts of leftover logging slash. In 1881, fires in Michigan raged over more than 2 million acres, killing move than 200 people. By the time Ransom E. Olds opened the Olds Motor Works in Detroit in 1899, starting Michigan on its way to becoming the auto capital of the world, the mines were used up and millions and millions of acres of land were cut over, burned, eroded and flooded. A resident of Muskegon described it this way: "The finest white pine and hardwood forest in the world is now a desert of five-blasted stumps and slashings, with rotting piles and moss-covered wharves where once echoed the busy refrain of 47 giant sawmills."

Michigan legislators passed laws in the early 1900s to save the forests, and extensive reforestation programs began. But last call had already come and gone for many wildlife species. Grayling, wolverine, marten, fisher, cougar, caribou and bison had vanished. The huge flocks of passenger pigeons-once reported in Michigan to be as large as 40 miles long and 3 to 10 miles wide-had disappeared by 1878. Any elk still remaining didn't last much longer.

No one knows exactly when the last wild elk died in Michigan. In his book, The Antelope and Deer of America, John Dean Caton related in 1877 several accounts of elk being killed in the northern part of the lower peninsula. And in 1905 Theodore Roosevelt wrote that elk "may still be found in the forests of northern Wisconsin, northern Michigan and Minnesota."

In his classic, Lives of Game Animals, Ernest Thompson Seton tells of a letter he received in 1906 from Frederic Irland describing the forests and lakes around his summer home in the northern lower peninsula of Michigan. "A number of old elk horns have been fished out of the waters of these lakes, lying partly covered with the sand, etc., of the bottom," lrland wrote. "The last Elk killed in the county, so far as l'm able to learn, was shot in 1895; and they have not been common there for many years -- not within the recollection of living men."

Whatever the date, elk were definitely gone by 1908 when William C. Durant founded General Motors and factories began spreading across the farmlands, drawing job-hungry people to Michigan by the thousands. As the state became less rural and increasingly industrial, the future for wildlife looked grim.

Back from the Ashes

But elk weren't gone from Michigan for long. Shocked by how quickly they had devoured the once-boundless fecundity of natural resources, people began to nurture a conservation ethic.

The state acquired land, established state forests and parks, replanted trees, restored watersheds, adopted and enforced strict fish and game laws, built fish hatcheries and imported and released wildlife -- some native and some not. In 1922, enthusiastic game managers released 60 reindeer from Norway in the upper and lower peninsulas but they died from parasitic diseases. Luckily, elk fared better.

Although incomplete and conflicting records cloud the picture, most accounts trace the roots of Michigan's current herd to 1918, when biologists released elk in the Pigeon River Country State Forest, in the north-central region of the lower peninsula. These elk came from a larger group brought to the Michigan Department of Forestry's Houghton Lake elk facility in 1915, where the state had gathered about 30 elk. Most had been transported from Yellowstone National Park and some, whose origins are unknown, were donated by the Ionia State Hospital. The Department of Forestry released about 20 elk near Turtle Lake in southwestern Montmorency County but few, if any, survived. The state transplanted another seven elk near the Sturgeon River, between the towns of Wolverine and Vanderbilt, in Cheboygan County. Hunting clubs and private landowners may have released other elk, but most biologists believe these seven formed the base of today's herd.

By 1925, the Pigeon River herd catapulted to roughly 200 animals. But growth slowed during the next 15 years, only increasing to about 300. Biologists and many locals believe that poaching curbed the herd's growth during the Depression and early World War II days, when people turned to the land for needed food. The herd took off again in the 1950s, and by 1964 more than 2,000 elk roamed the hardwood covered hills of Otsego, Cheboygan, Montmorency and Presque Isle counties. The elk became a significant tourist attraction -- and a serious problem.

Population Control

Farmers, foresters and even game managers complained about severe damage to farm crops, forest regeneration and wildlife range caused by the growing elk herd. ln response, the state legislature authorized the Department of Conservation to hold limited elk hunting seasons for two years. In 1964, the state awarded 300 permits by random drawing from more than 20,000 applicants. During the nine day season in December, hunters killed 103 bulls, 126 cows and 40 calves. The following year the state repeated the hunt with similar results. During the two years, 477 elk fell to hunters -- slightly below the 500 animals biologists said could be culled without damaging the herd. But many people questioned the hunt, claiming the state had overestimated the herd size and allowed too many elk to be killed. By 1966, public support for hunting the herd had dissolved.

"Those hunts created some real public relation problems for us," says Ed Langenau, big game specialist for the Michigan Department of Natural Resources (DNR). "People were ready to hang the DNR in effigy."

By 1967 the herd numbered somewhere between 300 and 700 animals. While the lower numbers helped reduce depredation problems, the decreased visibility hurt tourism. With an unexpected 90-percent success rate by hunters, combined with the hunt's high level of publicity, people blamed hunting for the herd's plunge,

But Langenau contends that it wasn't licensed hunters who decimated the herd.

"Many local people were angered that they did not receive permits," he says, "and many of them began poaching. We really didn't do a good public relations job before the hunt."

The future of elk in Michigan once again looked bleak. Conflicts between elk and farmers escalated and poaching increased.

In a 1973 report called "Rocky Mountain Elk in Michigan," DNR biologist Richard Moran wrote: "The late 1960s brought even more serious conflicts of interest which will ultimately limit the size of the herd and suitable range . . . Changes in land use and human disturbance threaten to permanently alter the unique character of the Pigeon River country and its suitability for this wilderness species."

Langenau says, "In those days there was no respect for elk. There was rampant poaching and no support for regulated elk hunting. It was a real mess."

By 1975 the herd had dwindled to 200. And their habitat faced a new threat -- oil and gas development.

Oil and Gas

Ironically, the threat of oil development may have saved the elk.

"Many people didn't want development in the Pigeon River Country State Forest," Langenau says."Groups were formed to stop oil drilling, and they began looking for reasons to keep oil developers out. After trying a variety of different causes that people could rally around, they came up with elk. `Oil development will hurt elk populations,' they said -- and it worked."

After years of court battles between developers and conservationists, they reached a truce: it would be OK to drill for oil in the southern part of the state forest -- with certain environmental stipulations -- and the northern part of the forest would be left wild. In addition, oil companies were ordered to help fund habitat enhancement and wildlife research projects.

"The settlement allowed us to do a lot of elk research, and we began to do a lot of habitat improvement," Langenau says. "We required oil companies to cut saplings, fertilize and plant rye at a lot of their drill sites. We have a photograph of two elk standing near an oil rig -- that photo really symbolizes what happened in those days."

The controversy sparked a new interest in wildlife, Langenau says, particularly elk, "The visibility of elk increased," he says, "elk became popular and, lo and behold, the elk population took off."

By the early 1980s the Michigan herd had grown to 850, and once again biologists recommended a controlled hunt to prevent crop depredation and habitat damage that could again result from too many elk.

"We were acutely aware of the problems we had with hunting in the 1960s," Langenau says. "We studied what went wrong, developed an elk management plan, formed committees to study the situation and held public hearings. The program was a great success. We got public support. So we said, `Let's go for it."'

In 1984, the DNR issued 50 elk hunting tags -- 10 "hunter's choice," in which hunters could take either a cow or bull, and 40 antlerless-only tags. Hunters again enjoyed high success rates, killing 10 bulls and 39 cows, but this time the public didn't balk at the hunt.

"It surprised us," Langenau says. "We thought we were really setting ourselves up. But we did our homework. The elk management plan took five years to complete and is a well thought-out strategy that involves the public."

The management plan requires the state to maintain "a viable elk population in harmony with the environment, affording optimal recreational opportunities." It directs the DNR to enlarge state ownership of elk range, improve elk habitat, provide recreational hunting, control land use on elk range, provide expanded law enforcement initiatives and educate the public about elk, elk habitat and the recreational benefits of elk.

"Our biggest problem is controlling populations," Langenau says. "Our goal is to maintain a wintering herd of 800 to 900 elk. Right now we have about 1 ,500."

Hunting continues to play an important role in population control. ln 1992 more than 50,000 hunters applied for 270 elk tags (97 hunter's choice and 173 antlerless-only) issued for three different hunts held in early September, late September and early December. Hunters killed 253 elk -- 94 bulls and 159 cows.

The state requires hunters to pass a skills test before they can hunt, and all elk taken have to be brought through a check station where biologists collect more information on the Michigan herd.

"I think our real success is having the hunter's choice licenses and antlerless only," Langenau says. "In most states it's the other way around -- quotas for bulls and quotas for cows. The hunter's choice has allowed us to maintain a high bull to cow ratio in our herd."

There are, in fact, 35 bulls for every 100 cows in the herd, and many of them are mature animals. More than one-fourth of the bulls taken by hunters have six points or more per antler. The largest typical bull, killed in 1991, had a Boone and Crockett score of 348 7/8. The largest non-typical scored 354 2/8. None have made the minimum scores required by Boone and Crockett to be entered in the record books.

"Some of our hunters are upset about that," Langenau says. "They can't get them into the record books and many think it's because they are more closely related to the Roosevelt's elk."

Roosevelt's or Rockys?

To make it into the Boone and Crockett Records of North American Big Game, typical and non-typical Rocky Mountain elk must score a minimum of 375 points. Roosevelt's elk, which live primarily along the West Coast from British Columbia to northern California, need a minimum score of 290. The Boone and Crockett Club classifies Michigan's elk as Rocky Mountain elk.

Some of the unusual characteristics of Michigan's elk -- such as heavy body structures, adaptable social groups and smaller antlers that not infrequently end in three-pronged crown -- combined with confusion over the origin of the herd -- have some hunters and biologists wondering if they should be reclassified. Various research projects and genetic tests have shown that the Michigan elk may, indeed, be more closely related to Roosevelt's elk than Rocky Mountain elk.

Whatever the genetic origins, folks in Michigan take pride in their elk. Enthusiasm for elk bubbles over in Atlanta -- a town of about 700 people in the north-central part of Michigan's lower peninsula -- smack in the heart of elk country. Atlanta calls itself the elk capital of Michigan -- and has an annual elk festival to prove it. In late September, when bugles and clashing antlers echo through the aspens, thousands of people come to Atlanta to celebrate the elk.

There is good cause for celebration. Michigan's elk program has been so successful that Wisconsin may follow their lead. The Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources is studying possible reintroduction of elk in the Cheguamegon National Forest near Bayfield, and looking very closely at its neighbors to the east.

Bigtooth Aspen & Rye

Michigan's elk now range throughout the 100,000-acre Pigeon River Country State Forest. The country is fairly flat, with some rolling hills. The hardwood forests of maple and beech, conifer swamps of balsam fir and cedar, and small stands of aspen, jack pine, red pine and white pine provide a diversity of habitat. The impact on trees by elk browsing drives our objectives," says Glen Matthews, a DNR district wildlife biologist. "They have a severe impact on regeneration of species-particularly the bigtooth aspen, which are highly preferred by elk."

To compensate for this, resource managers cut timber stands on a rotation basis, where younger trees grow and provide important winter food for the herd. They also create and maintain meadows, planting lye, clover, alfalfa and buckwheat to provide forage for elk.

"The improved meadows hold the elk in that area," Matthews says, "and take some pressure off the forest vegetation and agricultural crops."

As it is throughout most of elk county, winter is the most critical time for the herd. To survive until spring, elk need high-quality habitat. They take advantage of the low hills in the Pigeon River area, often congregating on the south slopes where they're shielded from the wind and can soak up the sun. The elk also gather in low-growing forests that provide shelter and hold in warmth generated from the animal's bodies. They rely on grasses and young, tender saplings that grow in the cutover stands -- often all they can reach when deep snow blankets northern Michigan.

Elk Nirvana

There is a special slice of elk range, about 15 miles northeast of Gaylord near the Black River, that seems to have everything the elk seek in the winter-hills, woods and cutover aspen.

"It's an area that has been historically used by wintering elk, particularly bulls," Matthews says. "There ave a large number of bulls that use the area year in and year out."

Of the five to six square miles of land where the elk gather in the winter, about half is privately owned. The state is working with local landowners to acquire much of the private land.

One such piece of property belonged to Michael Surnow, a lawyer from West Bloomfield, Michigan -- until he sold the land to the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation last fall. The Foundation will in turn sell the property to the Michigan DNR to add to the Pigeon River County State Forest.

Aspen, birch and red maple wrap around small meadows and swamps on the low ground of this 172-acre property, and small white pines cover the high ground which borders the state forest. Where some of the older aspen has been cut, tender young aspen suckers are shooting up. The elk seem to like the place. Each year, beginning in November, about 100 mature bulls gather around the property to winter.

"There's something about the mixture of cover and food that attracts bulls to that area," Matthews says.

In fact, it was the concentration of elk on the property that prompted -- Surnow, an avid hunter and member of the Elk Foundation, to sell.

The elk became so populated on the property that it started to interfere with the deer hunting," Surnow says. "I would see more elk than deer."

One morning, in a one-acre clearing behind the small hunting cabin on the property, Surnow saw 16 bull elk, all with 6x6 racks or bigger.

"The amount of elk on the property is unbelievable," Surnow says. "Why they started congregating there is a mystery. Nobody knows. It's a haven, a mecca, for big bulls. I thought, this would be a nice piece of property to be owned by the public. It's an area that should be preserved because it's a great piece of elk habitat."

Elk Foundation Field Director Mike Carter, agrees.

"The Surnow property is a very significant piece of property. It will continue to provide excellent elk habitat, and hunting opportunities will improve as well," Carter says. "The state of Michigan and the DNR have done an outstanding job at elk management. The people of Michigan should be proud of that effort."

The eastern elk that roamed the vast forests of Michigan up to the late 1800s are gone forever-although their remains are unearthed occasionally.

"We still have farmers coming in wearing overalls, smelling like diesel fuel, carrying antlers of eastern elk they've dug up in bogs and ditches," Langenau says. "It's fairly common. It makes you realize that 1880 really wasn't that long ago."

Perhaps not. But the elk have come a long way. They're back, and with the help of people like Mike Surnow, they'll remain a unique part of Michigan's wildlife heritage.

Additional articles from the BUGLE (below):

A short account of Hunting Michigan Elk in 1844

Eastern Elk: Are They Really Extinct?

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