We have been having elk mysteriously go down, and stay down, for over two weeks now. Bosses have known about it since day two. We've had our vet, and at least three other vets out here not once, but twice, to collect samples to investigate this malady. We've spent close to a thousand dollars for flight time trying to identify the size and expanse of this problem. We had a crew of over 16 people out here last Friday to help and learn.

In that time it has snowed, blown, and the roads have drifted in, only to be broken open again by us so we can get out country. I don't think the temperature got above freezing until last Friday.

Now, we have had three days of warm. My truck thermometer said 51 degrees sometime this afternoon.

You can guess what has happened to the snow. And the roads in this alkali clay area.

I slogged in through four miles of mud yesterday to get to my chosen kill zone. I am positive the only reason I was able to drive out is because it was after sunset, and the mud was already getting hard crystals of ice on it.

That didn't happen today. If you didn't have a 4-wheeler, you had absolutely nowhere to go.

So, what day do the I&E professionals of our outfit decide they have to come out, and have to get video of dead or dying elk?

Unannounced?

Aww. You guessed.

I was half-way back from University Town, having delivered the water sample that we hope will be our Holy Grail, when I got the call (or two actually, first from the I&E folks looking for a guide, second from a boss making sure the I&E folks would have a guide). And found out my plans for the day had changed.

I tried not to take my ire out on the video and camera folks, since they have bosses, too, and I have no idea who sent them out on such a crappy day when any day of the past two weeks would have been better. My first stab at getting them in country was a frustrating failure. Got in way farther than I expected, then got stopped by water soaked mud roads a mile from our destination.

Most frustrating because I know there are elk down on the ground there. Ones we saw on Friday's flight. Still waiting for the end to come.

Perhaps tomorrow.

Our second choice was a risky mile and a half dash across a muddy meadow, where wardens' ATVs with their balloon tires had been leaving ruts.

How badly do you want this video? I ask the lead guy, him in his dry truck, me standing in several inches of squishy mud with an inch or two of water on top.

"I have to have video," was his reply.

So in we went. And found a deceased elk for them to shoot. And amazingly, got out again. But the sort of thing where you end up with chunks of what used to be soil on top of your hood and windshield.

The sort of thing where, if you see someone else doing it, you go "tsk, tsk" and call him an idiot, hoping he hangs up his outfit out in the middle of the goo.

So, for those of you in the neighborhood, and I am more than happy to report that I don't think that is any of you... watch for me on the Sunday news.

The semi-good news? Yesterday I had a cow elk who struggled valiantly to get up on her legs. She could get the front legs up, but not the back. And then she got the rump up, but not the front.

Heart-breaking to watch.

So I let her be. The vets were unanimous last Friday that there is little or no hope for these animals once they go down.

I'm hoping they're wrong. At least, on this one. And the vet receiving the water sample agreed it was worth a try, just to see.

The only warden in the field today found her.

She still can't get up, but she's close. He also decided to let her be, for now.

Cross your fingers.

The other semi-good news? Only seven more elk found today. After several days with totals of more than fifty each, that is encouraging. We know there are others out there, 'cause we saw them from the plane, but it would be nice if the rate of increase in the butcher's bill dropped.

An image of Yellowstone Lake, last spring. The thaw is coming.

Really.