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October 15, 2003
Blinded by love of the hunt
CWD breeds apathy
By Charlie Meyers, Denver Post Outdoor Writer
RUSTIC - The hunters from Minnesota had studied the maps, made the calls and done their homework.
Five brothers, along with their nephew, two cousins and another man who somehow managed to escape direct relation, had taken temporary possession of a forest plot 10,000 feet higher than their home back in Long Prairie with firm intent to help Colorado reduce its elk population.
So why, with the so many other parts of the state, or even the entire Rocky Mountains to choose from, had these apparently sane and amiable people elected to hunt smack in the middle of the area most deeply cursed with chronic wasting disease?
"We know where we are," said Dave Miller, who hiked from camp deep in the Roosevelt National Forest west of Fort Collins even deeper into the adjacent Comanche Peak Wilderness Area to bag a four-point bull. "It doesn't seem to bother the locals much. It shouldn't bother me either."
The opening of Colorado's elk season indeed prompted a formidable turnout - mostly residents of the region - along the Crown Point Road where it winds south and west of the Poudre River in the general direction of Rocky Mountain National Park.
That the Minnesotans, along with a scattering of other flatlanders, also had chosen an area clearly identified as a focus of a disease that has caused so much stir among hunters and nonhunters alike, spoke volumes about what very likely will be the ultimate fate of big-game hunting in Colorado, if not the entire country.
"We did a lot of research. We called the local biologist. This area looked good to us," Dave Miller explained as to why the group's fourth visit to the state wound up some 300 miles closer to home than their previous destinations, the San Juan Mountains around Pagosa Springs.
What seemed best about this area represents a microcosm of the general attraction Colorado continues to afford nonresident hunters, CWD or not: The Minnesotans, all nine of them, were virtually assured a license. Perhaps in part because of CWD concerns, the rest for an abundance of licenses, this particular area was undersubscribed for the special draw tags necessary to hunt in this first of Colorado's rifle big-game seasons, which is for elk only. This first split runs through today, followed by three other segments ending Nov. 12.
The larger message seems to be this: People who love the hunt will continue to pursue it. Barring unforeseen calamity, Colorado will continue as a prime destination.
For their first foray into CWD territory, the men from central Minnesota received an added explanation of testing requirements from Steve Znamenacek, district wildlife manager with the Division of Wildlife. DOW demands testing of all animals, deer and elk, taken from a part of northeast Colorado where the malady variously has been present for nearly 30 years.
This mandatory testing in the northeast is free; hunters who wish to have animals examined in other parts of the state pay a $15 fee. Some 60 sites administer the tests.
"We'll get our animals tested and won't have any problem eating the meat," said Steve Miller, who gained a friendly edge on his brother by shooting a 5x5 bull closer to camp.
The fact that hunters had been eating game meat from this area for decades before any form of testing began perhaps was not lost on a group from Georgia, whom Znamenacek contacted during September muzzleloading season.
"They already were cooking deer meat right in camp," the wildlife officer related. "They weren't the least bit worried."
After extensive research, neither state nor federal officials have established any connection between eating animals infected with CWD and human health. Colorado's testing program, the most extensive in the country, serves in part as a sort of security blanket for hunters, particularly those visitors from out of state who pay big bucks for the licenses that chiefly support the wildlife agency.
The opportunity to rather easily acquire these tags, particularly for elk, takes care of the other incentive. Boasting the continent's largest elk herd, with an overpopulation that requires an ever-increasing number of licenses, Colorado remains a Mecca for flatlanders who often must wait years for a lucky draw in other Rocky Mountain states.
On a sun-splashed Sunday when a flock of wild turkeys wandered unconcerned at the nearby rumble of a pickup truck, hunters of every stripe centered their concerns on finding elk, a daunting task amid the crackle of dry leaves and a swirling wind.
"It's like corn flakes out there," declared Nate Monteil of Loveland. "I see lots of signs, but no animals."
Two Nebraskans suffered a dual disappointment. After long miles walking through rugged terrain, they missed their only shot at a bull elk. The pair seemed even more distressed to learn their beloved Cornhuskers football team also had misfired in a Saturday night match with Missouri.
Conversely, the visitors expressed little concern over hunting in CWD country.
"We're starting to get it in Nebraska, too," Joe Wehling reasoned. "You have to learn to deal with it."
After discouraging forays into the dark timber that dominates this sharp landscape, many hunters prowled the road in search of more level ground, or perhaps simply a place farther from the competition. Lacking elk to entertain them, other hunters also found diversion in football. Of a group of five Denver-area hunters camped farther down- slope, four had returned for a leisurely late lunch and to tune in the Broncos game.
While the Crown Peak area bustled with hunters, Znamenacek discovered far fewer on opening day in the country farther west near Long Draw Reservoir.
"I don't understand it. That's really good elk country over there," he puzzled.
In retrospect, this balance of hunters might have shifted dramatically if all those Millers from Minnesotans had found the other area first.
Blinded by love of the hunt
CWD breeds apathy
By Charlie Meyers, Denver Post Outdoor Writer
RUSTIC - The hunters from Minnesota had studied the maps, made the calls and done their homework.
Five brothers, along with their nephew, two cousins and another man who somehow managed to escape direct relation, had taken temporary possession of a forest plot 10,000 feet higher than their home back in Long Prairie with firm intent to help Colorado reduce its elk population.
So why, with the so many other parts of the state, or even the entire Rocky Mountains to choose from, had these apparently sane and amiable people elected to hunt smack in the middle of the area most deeply cursed with chronic wasting disease?
"We know where we are," said Dave Miller, who hiked from camp deep in the Roosevelt National Forest west of Fort Collins even deeper into the adjacent Comanche Peak Wilderness Area to bag a four-point bull. "It doesn't seem to bother the locals much. It shouldn't bother me either."
The opening of Colorado's elk season indeed prompted a formidable turnout - mostly residents of the region - along the Crown Point Road where it winds south and west of the Poudre River in the general direction of Rocky Mountain National Park.
That the Minnesotans, along with a scattering of other flatlanders, also had chosen an area clearly identified as a focus of a disease that has caused so much stir among hunters and nonhunters alike, spoke volumes about what very likely will be the ultimate fate of big-game hunting in Colorado, if not the entire country.
"We did a lot of research. We called the local biologist. This area looked good to us," Dave Miller explained as to why the group's fourth visit to the state wound up some 300 miles closer to home than their previous destinations, the San Juan Mountains around Pagosa Springs.
What seemed best about this area represents a microcosm of the general attraction Colorado continues to afford nonresident hunters, CWD or not: The Minnesotans, all nine of them, were virtually assured a license. Perhaps in part because of CWD concerns, the rest for an abundance of licenses, this particular area was undersubscribed for the special draw tags necessary to hunt in this first of Colorado's rifle big-game seasons, which is for elk only. This first split runs through today, followed by three other segments ending Nov. 12.
The larger message seems to be this: People who love the hunt will continue to pursue it. Barring unforeseen calamity, Colorado will continue as a prime destination.
For their first foray into CWD territory, the men from central Minnesota received an added explanation of testing requirements from Steve Znamenacek, district wildlife manager with the Division of Wildlife. DOW demands testing of all animals, deer and elk, taken from a part of northeast Colorado where the malady variously has been present for nearly 30 years.
This mandatory testing in the northeast is free; hunters who wish to have animals examined in other parts of the state pay a $15 fee. Some 60 sites administer the tests.
"We'll get our animals tested and won't have any problem eating the meat," said Steve Miller, who gained a friendly edge on his brother by shooting a 5x5 bull closer to camp.
The fact that hunters had been eating game meat from this area for decades before any form of testing began perhaps was not lost on a group from Georgia, whom Znamenacek contacted during September muzzleloading season.
"They already were cooking deer meat right in camp," the wildlife officer related. "They weren't the least bit worried."
After extensive research, neither state nor federal officials have established any connection between eating animals infected with CWD and human health. Colorado's testing program, the most extensive in the country, serves in part as a sort of security blanket for hunters, particularly those visitors from out of state who pay big bucks for the licenses that chiefly support the wildlife agency.
The opportunity to rather easily acquire these tags, particularly for elk, takes care of the other incentive. Boasting the continent's largest elk herd, with an overpopulation that requires an ever-increasing number of licenses, Colorado remains a Mecca for flatlanders who often must wait years for a lucky draw in other Rocky Mountain states.
On a sun-splashed Sunday when a flock of wild turkeys wandered unconcerned at the nearby rumble of a pickup truck, hunters of every stripe centered their concerns on finding elk, a daunting task amid the crackle of dry leaves and a swirling wind.
"It's like corn flakes out there," declared Nate Monteil of Loveland. "I see lots of signs, but no animals."
Two Nebraskans suffered a dual disappointment. After long miles walking through rugged terrain, they missed their only shot at a bull elk. The pair seemed even more distressed to learn their beloved Cornhuskers football team also had misfired in a Saturday night match with Missouri.
Conversely, the visitors expressed little concern over hunting in CWD country.
"We're starting to get it in Nebraska, too," Joe Wehling reasoned. "You have to learn to deal with it."
After discouraging forays into the dark timber that dominates this sharp landscape, many hunters prowled the road in search of more level ground, or perhaps simply a place farther from the competition. Lacking elk to entertain them, other hunters also found diversion in football. Of a group of five Denver-area hunters camped farther down- slope, four had returned for a leisurely late lunch and to tune in the Broncos game.
While the Crown Peak area bustled with hunters, Znamenacek discovered far fewer on opening day in the country farther west near Long Draw Reservoir.
"I don't understand it. That's really good elk country over there," he puzzled.
In retrospect, this balance of hunters might have shifted dramatically if all those Millers from Minnesotans had found the other area first.
