Marauding elk see couple mount all-night vigils

After losing $1,500 worth of oats, an equal amount in fencing and spending more than $300 on “bear bangers” to deter elk encroaching on his property,

After losing $1,500 worth of oats, an equal amount in fencing and spending more than $300 on “bear bangers” to deter elk encroaching on his property, Yukon hobby farmer Bill Travis is at the end of his rope.

“Now it’s totally out of control,” Travis said recently of the burgeoning wild elk population. “Now’s not the time to do something; three years ago was.”

That is when the Takhini herd was last surveyed by government biologists who counted 250; 75 animals more than the Environment department’s “target population” of 175 – what the elk’s Takhini Valley habitat could sustain.

Travis owns 40 acres of land in the Takhini Valley, near the Alaska Highway 27 kilometres past the Mayo cutoff. He believes that herd has expanded to more than 400.

Two years ago, an experiment to rid elk of winter ticks saw nearly 100 elk sequestered at a buffalo ranch 50 kilometres outside Whitehorse.

This exercise was repeated last season as well, in spite of ongoing concerns by first nations and residents with an agricultural stake in the region.

Fearful that the tick could spread to caribou or moose – an affliction that is fatal to those animals – aboriginal harvesters wanted to see the elk culled.

The fact the animals were not indigenous to the Yukon, but imported here more than 50 years previously, bolstered the argument that the government’s first concern should be toward native species, particularly those that provide subsistence hunters with a ready food source.

Similarly, several elk farmers were worried the tick could spread to their healthy animals. Some even offered to take in a portion of the wild elk, a solution that could have benefited the farmers and partly satisfied first nation interests.

But the government opted to pen the beasts, which proved hugely successful in mitigating the spread of winter tick. However, it protected the elk from natural predators and habituated them toward humans who fed them hay daily while in captivity.

“It’s pretty evident that holding them in captivity has resulted in higher recruitment than if they were out in the wild,” said Rick Ward, a biologist in charge of the elk sequestration.

“But we’re trying to control that by issuing more permits to the elk harvest to try and bring them back down to our population targets.”

For the first time since elk were imported to the territory in 1951, the government issued permits to hunt the elk, and to date, local hunters have bagged 21.

Ward admits the department’s count of 250 Takhini elk are “fairly soft estimates”, adding that there has never been an official count of the Braeburn elk herd.

It is currently estimated at 85, and this winter, Ward and his team of biologists plan to sequester that herd, similar to what was done with the Takhini elk.

But Travis, who was unable to acquire one of the 50 available elk tags, said permitting elk to be hunted is not going to drop their numbers fast enough. Nevertheless, he believes that if one were shot and butchered in front of other elk, it would likely provide a deterrent.

In the absence of that alternative, two years ago Travis and his wife began keeping what they now refer to as their “elk vigil”.

Each would sleep in shifts while the other would chase elk from their property on a nightly basis during the winter months. Most of these invasive elk were males – too jittery to be penned in with females they escaped by vaulting the enclosure.

Last year alone, the Travises maintained their vigil through 2 1/2 months to preserve food for 11 horses.

As the couple used to grow oats on much of their 40 acres in the Takhini Valley (for their own horses and those they boarded to munch on during the winter months), it became a common occurrence for elk to arrive for a free meal.

“When elk show up, they’re about the size of a horse, and a herd of 150 can decimate a field in a night,” Travis said. “They cleaned my neighbour out of 80 acres of oats and rye.”

Unruly elk also killed the neighbour’s dog, and Travis knows of another canine fatality in the valley as a result of an unlucky elk encounter.

While Travis gave up on planting an oat crop for his horses this year, he has not abandoned keeping elk from his property because they spook the horses.

Last year, a horse Travis was caring for got so nervous of elk in the vicinity, it paced the fence for hours,  then finally collapsed and died from exhaustion.

So it is not surprising that Travis supports Lake Laberge MLA Brad Cathers, who, during the fall sitting of the legislature, suggested the government amend the Wildlife Act to permit Yukoners to use lethal force against elk to protect person and property.

“There’s a fundamental problem here,” Cathers said. “Government is not able to defend my constituents,  and they are not allowed to defend themselves.”

According to current legislation, a person can use lethal force to defend against a carnivore attack, but not against a similar threat by a herbivore or bird. Moose and bison are considered exempted herbivores in certain circumstances, whereas elk are not.

In the meantime, Yukon landowners under constant threat of the intrusive and destructive elk have limited recourse.

One option is to access the Department of Energy, Mines and Resources’ agriculture branch’s wildlife damage prevention program.

There, both compensation for damages and funding for building game farm fencing, hiring a herding contractor or purchasing a herding dog are available.

Eligible applicants include those who reside in a “documented high-risk area” and have suffered damage in excess of $250 from elk, moose, deer or bison, to cultivated land. To date, 10 landowners have successfully applied.

Travis said this program, which offers up to $15,000 in subsidies, may be useful for those earning an income from their farms, but totally unrealistic cost-wise for hobby farmers.

“What annoys me is whatever department I phone, there’s really no department that can deal with my problem,” said Travis, who does not blame the biologists or wildlife officials, but the system in general.

“Originally, I told my concerns to conservation officers and there’s nothing they can do, and I understand that their business is to look out for the welfare of animals.”

Travis said conservation officers have visited his property on several occasions to help scare away elk,  only to have them mill around in the distance and return a short time later.

Kris Gustafson, a Yukon conservation officer, is all too aware of the problems elk are creating for area landowners, and said they are not unique to the Yukon.

“In most wildlife conflict matters, we try and see if there’s an attractant involved or something that may serve as an attractant,” Gustafson told the Star this week.

Standing crops left in a field, hay that is accessible or, in Travis’ case, oats left unharvested, will attract elk.

“Typically, excluding the animal from the food source is the best way of deterring them, but that can be easier said than done,” Gustafson added.

Setting off bear bangers, chasing elk on quads or snowmobiles and even using rubber bullets are measures Gustafson and his colleagues have employed, often providing just temporary results.

“There’s things you can try and deter them, but it’s like trying to deter bears from getting into the garbage. If they want to get in, they will,” said Gustafson.