BY MIMI MANN
a former AP reporter, is a freelance writer.

THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

BENEZETTE, Pa. — It is 6 a.m., and Tom Murphy is standing, cameras in hand, on a rickety metal bridge straddling the rushing waters of Bennette's Creek, waiting for majestic wild elk to cross in the morning fog.

There is no other place he would rather be, this man who labels himself an elkaholic, a man who's determined to use his elk photos and videos to help preserve for future generations the oldest standing wild elk herd east of the Mississippi River. For him, the elk are addictive.

Murphy talks elk preservation with tourists, supports the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation and believes his sales of photos and carvings of the creatures raise awareness of them. He also donated one of his photos to be made into a special elk patch for sale by one of the local tourism boards.

Murphy, who's been chasing elk for 20 years, has given names to many of the hundreds of elk who roam this area of the county named for them, Elk County. He knows the bulls and cows who unintentionally pose for his still photos and videos from the time they're born until they die, but "the elk have to earn the name," he said. He's named elk for friends, Bill, and then Bill Jr. Others, he named for characteristics, like the flat-antlered elk he named Bullwinkle, or Clear Eye, or Crazy Legs.

Elk were roaming Pennsylvania long before modern man, but they were hunted down until the last known Eastern elk was shot in 1867. Today's elk are descendants of 177 elk transported to Pennsylvania by rail from 1913 to 1926 from the Yellowstone area of Wyoming and then from South Dakota.

The elk, or wapiti, now number about 700, counting this spring's calves, but that number is not high enough to ensure survival. And sadly for the elk, not everyone is an elkaholic. Elk, which weigh 500 to 1,000 pounds at maturity, can wreck valuable farmland and home gardens. The Pennsylvania Game Commission, the elk's official guardian, works to balance the needs of the elk, locals and visitors.

A retired operations engineer from the University of Pittsburgh, Murphy didn't mean to become addicted to elk, but "they were beautiful to behold," he said. When his wife died in 1999, he decided he wanted to remain in Benezette with the elk and his cameras.

Elk-friendly town

Benezette is a tiny camping town wedged among the forests and creeks northeast of Pittsburgh. It's called "The Gateway to Elk Country" for the elk who meander freely amidst the town's 220 inhabitants, grazing in backyards, helping themselves to seasonal apples, lounging peacefully under the thick canopy of trees to ward off the hot sun.

Even the town's most famous citizen is an elk: Freddy, a mighty bull with towering antlers who strolls through town at will. Murphy says Freddy knows every dog in town and goes nose-to-nose with his canine friends. "If Freddy ran for mayor, he'd win," Murphy said. There is a lot of elk addiction in Benezette, which attracts 70,000 tourists a year to see the elk up close and personal, especially in the fall's rutting season, when the male elk fight and bugle their war cries from hill to hill.

A fellow elkaholic is photographer and freelance journalist Carol Mulvihill, whose license tag reads "ELK LADY." A former director of Student Health Services at the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford for 29 years, Mulvihill found the elk so appealing but mysterious, she wrote "Elk Watching in Pennsylvania" to help tourists navigate the world of the wild elk. Today, she works part-time in Bradford but has a second home with husband Mike just outside Benezette where she often joins Murphy on his early-morning elk photographic expeditions. Both are active members of the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation.

"Every time I saw an elk, I wanted to see more," Mulvihill said.

Mulvihill believes the secret of the elks' survival is educating and motivating people, who, in turn, can become citizen protectors of wild elk. Mulvihill said there are more than 30 schools in the United States and Canada currently participating in elk preservation programs.

Tony Ross, regional wildlife management supervisor for the Game Commission's north central region, calls the elk "a great resource." He reminds locals that "we are the intruders; we are in their area. We need to appreciate them more." To enhance the elk's survival, the commission has expanded its elk management area from 835 square miles to 3,500 square miles, maintains specially planted pastures, many seeded atop reclaimed strip mines, and tags some young elk with numbers to track their movements. People of all ages throughout the town talk about specific animals by number or name.

Elk mortality

Still, there are a "a lot of mortalities," Ross said. Some elk die in traffic collisions; four large bulls died after being struck by automobiles within a week in late May. Elk can contact the fatal brain worm from the droppings of white-tailed deer. Poaching exists, but they also are hunted legally: this fall, 40 hunting licenses are available for elk.

Saving the elk has become a passion for Murphy and Mulvihill. "If we can't take care of our animals, then how can we survive?" Murphy pondered.

How addictive are the elk? It doesn't take long for a day visitor to catch an elkaholic's passion. A reporter ending a short visit saw a friend of Murphy as she headed back to civilization after a short visit in elk country. The parting message: "Tell Tom we saw number 26 down by the stream."

"Wild Eye" in Medix Run. 2003 Photo by Gene Maslar.

Medix Run bull.  2004 Photo by Eugene Maslar, Jr.

"Freddy" in Benezette.  2004 Photo by Eugene Maslar, Jr.

No. 24 in Benezette.  2005 Photo by Eugene Maslar, Jr.

No. 47 Bugling on Winslow Hill.  2006 Photo by Eugene Maslar, Jr.

Carol's DMV License Plate.

The Elk Expo

PA Game Commission

PA Chapter of the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation.

RMEF