It was a scene out of “Real Housewives of Estes Park.” Coquettish females frisked around dominant males while rivals lurked in the bushes. Literally in the bushes – because these reality stars were elk, and the soap opera was playing out in real time in Rocky Mountain National Park, ground zero for the late-September elk rut.

Colorado is home to about 300,000 elk, making it the ungulate hotspot of the American West. They range from Roosevelt National Forest in the north to the plains above Craig to the habitat surrounding Montrose. In short, if you’re in the mountains, elk are your neighbors – browsing shrubbery, nibbling high prairies and, most ominously, crossing the roads in front of your car.

Nathaniel Rayl, a wildlife researcher for Colorado Parks and Wildlife, extols the state’s elk welcome mat: “We have good habitat, a great history of wildlife management, a lot of aspen stands, a productive understory fed by monsoonal rains, and nutritious forage in subalpine meadows.”

Our elk numbers are a reintroduction success story. In the early 1900s, North America’s elk population had fallen to just 40,000. Colorado wildlife officials imported 50 animals from Wyoming and began managing them. It worked. Now, when surging hormones summon elk into Moraine Park – a broad meadow near Estes Park, the gateway town to Rocky Mountain National Park – the resupply is on. I too have been lured there by the bull’s eerie bugling – like somebody strangling the world’s largest kazoo.

That honking wail, combined with spreading antlers and hard body, is irresistible to cow elk. According to Jack Ballard’s Large Mammals of the Rocky Mountains, a bull can top 1,100 pounds, with antlers stretching five feet and weighing 40 pounds. Keep that in mind when you spot one grazing nearby: an elk can run 45 mph and cover 14 feet in a stride, going from mild to murderous in the blink of a camera shutter.

I gave the beasts plenty of room one radiant afternoon last fall in Rocky Mountain National Park. Not so for other visitors, who seemed to think they were watching a live-action Bambi instead of Darwin in action. About 600,000 people flock to the park in September, drawn by elk romance and yellowing aspen. Park officials advised staying at least 75 feet from elk – about two bus lengths – to avoid being charged.

I set up a folding chair beside a field dotted with bulls and cows and watched males corral harems – anywhere from a half-dozen to 40 females. Given the sexy shenanigans in Moraine Park, I was glad to have only one wife.

As I watched, a dominant bull sprinted around, herding cows into his cohort. Meanwhile, a rival lounged in the grass, chewing cud. Snooze/lose, pal. But when the big bull chased a wandering female, the chill bull leapt to his feet. A nearby cow made doe eyes, and in a flash they were making elk babies. Sometimes a zen approach leads to fatherhood, too.

Elk concentrate in the high country during mating season but disperse once October arrives. By then they’ve built fat stores for winter and the eight-and-a-half-month gestation. While blizzards lash Trail Ridge Road, you’ll see them lounging in lowlands. I’ve seen elk browsing through suburbia like lawn ornaments. Once I spotted two bulls battling on top of a mulch pile. By spring, cow elk retreat to secluded meadows to calve, hiding their spotted newborns in tall grass until they’re strong enough to travel with the herd.

Ray Aberle, who manages elk-human interaction for Colorado Parks and Wildlife, said bulls had even been seen in barley fields near the Buc-ee’s travel center off I-25 in Johnstown, north of Denver. Clearly, beavers and elk can coexist. And Colorado’s absence of apex predators like grizzlies gives elk free rein. Wolves, reintroduced to the state in 2023, might eventually shift that balance, though their impact on herds is still emerging.

So humans are the biggest risk. There are about 14,000 car-animal collisions in Colorado each year, and elk are large targets. After a fall backpacking trip, a friend and I were driving home past a big elk field in Evergreen. One bull decided the grass was greener on the other side of I-70. It leapt over the hood of our truck, freeze-framed in the headlights. Had we left camp a second earlier, the elk might have come through my window, and someone else would be writing this story.

Another risk comes when elk wander onto private land, competing with cattle for forage. Aberle helped ranchers coexist with migratory herds. “It’s a habitat partnership,” he said. “We helped with fencing, develop water sources and treat noxious weeds. It’s good for elk and livestock, too.”

Ranchers can also host hunts, which manage the population. “Hunting can be a source of revenue and pride,” Aberle said.

And dinner. I once capped a day in Moraine Park with an elk burger in Estes Park – low fat, high adventure, on a bun.

Elk also show a flair for tourism – and shopping. A video surfaced of a cow browsing inside a store called Gifts for Everyone in Estes Park. In 2023, another was spotted in The Beef Jerky Experience.

I asked Aberle what would lead an elk into a shop, especially one selling elk jerky.

“I’m not sure exactly what was going on with these elk,” he said. “They didn’t appear sick or agitated. My best guess was some combination of curiosity, habituation to humans and maybe a search for food. Elk are exploratory by nature, and bold individuals will check out novel environments, including stores. Once inside, it might have been hard to figure out how to exit.”

A store employee solved the problem by threatening the cow with a stuffed bear. Don’t try that in Moraine Park this fall – or you may become an elk-antler hood ornament.