As mentioned, I like to paint outside. However this does not come without some pitfalls, especially in our beautiful mountain parks. I should first mention that I was hosted at the Banff Boutique Inn for their Artist in Residence program. Great spot, lovely people. November was coldish, and warranted painting from the car for the most part. But one afternoon was warm enough to paint outside. So I parked alongside a back road and hiked up a short distance into the woods with a view through to the mountains.
After nearly completing the painting, and with the sun starting to go behind the trees, I heard a rustle and click. It was not loud, as the area was in near complete silence. But I did not wait, I immediately turned and walked back to the road. At first I couldn’t see anything. But eventually I saw large beige masses, jostling and quickly moving towards me up the side of the hill in the woods opposite. These were elk, running and banging their antlers against one another as they went. I knew that it was rutting season, so I got back in my car. The elk came closer, and started crossing the road in front of me. I backed up the car. They slowed their pace when they crossed the road, but were still snorting and bashing their antlers. I backed up the car a little further, as they seemed oblivious to me. The herd was rambling up the opposite bank, towards the area I was just painting in. I could see my easel standing in a clearing from my car.
I was really hoping that the elk would not walk through my painting site, but was unsure of what to do. I watched as an elk walked towards my easel. Then I saw him (as they were all male, with large antlers) knock my easel down to the ground! I was shocked, so opened my car door, and loudly asked him to please stop. This had no effect. I next watched in horror as he lowered his head and I saw my large lime green duffle bag that I use to carry all my painting supplies in, fly high in the air! A yard sale of paint supplies. At this point I was honking the horn and yelling at the top of my lungs. I think I was saying something like: “Hey! Leave that alone! Don’t touch my paints! Please leave!” This had absolutely no effect on the herd. Other than one elk still on the road slowly turned and looked at me. Just a look that said something between a shrug and a muffled “what?”. Otherwise, I made no other impression on them.
Fortunately, after flinging my bag in the air one more time, the herd sauntered slowly away along their predestined route into the woods. I waited, still shaking, throat hoarse, until I thought they were far enough away. When I thought they were, I left my vehicle and headed back towards my painting location, head on a swivel, looking on one side for more elk following and the other side for those that might return. I shakily gathered all my painting supplies in my arms, picking up the brushes and tubes of paint I could find from the snow and bushes. I tossed them into the back of my car, and left.
A little shook up, I drove back to the inn to relax by the fire!