For more than two years, sightings in the Colorado wilderness offered glimpses of a young bull carrying something he couldn’t shake off. Wildlife officers knew about him. Trail cameras caught him. Yet every attempt to reach him ran into the same problem: he was a wild animal with every reason to keep his distance.
Then a resident near Pine Junction picked up the phone.
What followed would test more than the rescuers’ patience. Getting close was only the beginning—and the plan they brought into the woods wouldn’t be enough.
FOLLOW THE SEARCH 00:00 An Elk Nobody Could Reach 02:15 Another Winter, the Same Tire 03:32 A Neighbor Makes the Call 05:25 Within Reach, Still Out of Options 07:17 The Questions Only a Closer Look Could Answer
What part of this rescue stayed with you? We’d love to hear your thoughts below.
He had carried that tire for years.
When the rescuers finally reached him,
you'd think the hardest part was over.
It wasn't. And what this elk did afterward is
absolutely amazing.
And it's the main reason why I wanted to tell you this story.
Hey everyone, John's back with Awesome.
Look at this photograph.
A wild elk, magnificent antlers and a car tyre around his neck.
Everyone could see what was wrong,
yet helping him turned into a two-year search.
And even finding him wasn't enough.
Come with me to Colorado.
The ending is remarkable, but so is everything that made it possible.
July 2019.
Wildlife officer Jared Lamb was surveying bighorn sheep
and mountain goats in the Mount
Evans wilderness when he spotted an elk through his scope.
Around the young bull's neck was
a tire. It wasn't tied on.
No one had deliberately fitted it there, as far as officers knew.
They couldn't establish exactly how it happened.
The elk might have put his head through it
before his antlers grew,
or during the season when bulls naturally shed them. Either way,
Today, the result was the same.
The tire could slip on.
But it couldn't easily slip off.
In 2021, officers would estimate the bull was about four
and a half years old.
That means he had spent a remarkable portion
of his young life wearing it.
And the elk wasn't standing beside a road waiting for help.
He was deep in mountainous country, moving wherever instinct took him.
Lamb had made an extraordinary discovery.
He hadn't found an easy way to rescue the animal.
Then, as wild animals tend to, the bull vanished into the landscape.
When I first saw the photograph, I had an obvious question.
Why couldn't someone walk up and pull it off?
But picture the scene from the elk's side.
Someone approaches. He doesn't know they're trying to help.
He only knows they're too close.
So he runs, and chasing
a frightened 600-pound animal through steep woods
could make everything worse.
The officers knew what was wrong.
They just couldn't get close enough to fix it.
That's the difference between spotting trouble and solving it.
Then came another sighting that turned
this strange photograph into a years-long problem.
In 2020, trail cameras near Conifer recorded the bull again.
Think about what those pictures meant.
He'd made it through another winter, still carrying the same tire.
Officers knew he was alive, but they also knew that seeing him
on a screen was very different from reaching him in the forest.
A trail camera shows you where an animal has been.
It doesn't tell you where he'll appear
next Tuesday. The bull kept moving between Park and Jefferson counties,
often disappearing from
reports until the cold months.
Unlike the elk that regularly visit some Colorado towns,
this one behaved like a truly wild animal and avoided people.
In 2021, wildlife officers
made several attempts to get close enough
to tranquilize him. None succeeded. And
There was an uncomfortable uncertainty
nobody could resolve from a distance.
What was happening to the skin beneath that tire?
The photos couldn't tell them.
By early autumn, sightings began coming from around Pine Junction.
The elk breeding season had brought bulls
into groups with other animals,
which could make the tire-wearing bull easier to spot.
But being surrounded by other elk would make
the actual rescue much more complicated.
Then somebody outside the wildlife department made
the call that mattered.
On October 9th 2021, local resident Pat Hemstreet
saw the elk near his property
and contacted wildlife officer Dawson Swanson.
That's what I appreciate here.
Pat didn't try to corner a wild animal.
He knew who could help and picked up the phone.
There's nothing flashy about it.
It's just the right decision at the right time.
If you value people who pay attention and look out for animals,
give this story a like.
And Pat's role wasn't finished with that phone call.
Not even close.
But when Swanson arrived, the bull wasn't standing alone.
He was moving with a herd of about 40.
And the light was fading.
Swanson had already tried to reach the bull three times that week.
On this fourth attempt, he changed his approach
and positioned himself where he believed the herd would cross.
A tranquilizer dart requires a clear, close shot.
He couldn't simply aim into a crowd of moving animals.
A few times he got within range.
Another elk blocked the bull.
Then branches got in the way.
And every minute brought them closer to darkness.
Finally, just before dark,
Swanson got the opening he needed.
The dart struck the right elk. The rest of the herd
moved into thick timber. Success? Not yet.
The bull had to be found in the trees.
The medication wasn't working as effectively as officers expected,
partly because of his physical condition during the breeding season.
Pat helped search through
the trees. The neighbor
who had picked up the phone was now helping the officer find a sedated
animal in the dark. Hours passed, and at one point,
Pat thought they might have to give up.
Then, Swanson found the elk.
Swanson called for additional medication
and fellow wildlife officer Scott Murdoch arrived to help.
They finally had the animal in front of them.
The tire was right there.
And they had tools to remove it.
For a moment, it must have seemed that two years
of searching had come down to one straightforward job.
Except, the tool wouldn't do it.
Imagine the relief.
You've finally reached the elk.
He's sedated, the tyre is in front of you,
then your saw won't go through it.
The car tyre has a reinforced steel bead around its inner edge.
The rubber was one problem, that steel was another.
And while the team struggled,
the tranquiliser wasn't giving them all the time they needed.
If you were there, would you stop
and hope you could catch this animal again?
Swanson and Murdoch.
couldn't assume they'd get a fifth chance that week,
so they made a decision that sounds terrible
until you know one unusual fact about elk.
The bull had impressive five-point antlers.
They were also preventing the tire from sliding over his head.
Swanson and Murdoch decided to
cut off the antlers. October is the elk's breeding season.
Bulls use their antlers
to compete with other males,
so removing them was not the outcome the officers wanted.
In the middle of the rut, those antlers still mattered.
But elk antlers aren't permanent.
Bulls naturally shed them and grow new ones each year.
The officers could not return the two years
the animal had spent wearing a tire,
but they could remove the thing that might stay there even longer.
They worked the antlers free,
then maneuvered the tire carefully over the bull's head.
It was still a struggle.
The ring was tight, and the steel bead wouldn't give.
At last, it slipped off.
The bottom of the tyre was packed with wet pine needles and dirt,
roughly 10 pounds of debris,
counting the removed antlers, tyre and debris,
the team estimated they'd taken about 35 pounds off the bull.
Now came the moment the officers had worried about for years.
They could finally see his neck.
I was dreading this part.
A tyre hanging from an animal's neck for two years.
All that dirt and constant contact with his skin.
I expected a terrible injury.
But the officers found rubbed off hair
and one small wound about the size of a coin.
Otherwise, his neck looked remarkably good.
That doesn't make the tire harmless.
It means they got to him before something worse happened.
Now, after all that effort, there was one question left.
How would the bull recover?
They gave him medication to reverse the sedation and stepped away.
What happened next is why this ending stays with me.
After an exhausting search, a difficult sedation,
and a rescue that had forced the officers to change their plan,
the bull's recovery was astonishingly quick.
Within minutes of the reversal medication, he was back on his feet.
That's the documented moment, not a staged thank you,
not an elk embracing his rescuers,
a powerful wild animal getting up, alive,
and free of the object he had carried for more than two years.
Consider what had changed in those few minutes.
The tire was on the ground. The bull could move
without it. His antlers were gone for now, but new ones could grow.
He had spent years doing
what wild animals do, surviving and keeping his distance from people.
The officers didn't teach
him to trust humans or turn him into a pet.
They helped him remain what he already was.
Now, thanks to the people who finally reached him,
he could continue his life without that tire.
And the officers had one last message for everyone who heard the story.
What amazes me isn't an animal performing some clever trick.
It's that minutes after this difficult rescue, he was standing again.
Sometimes the happiest ending is simply that an animal gets to be wild.
Colorado wildlife officials warn about other hazards too.
Nets, hammocks, holiday lights, even everyday yard equipment.
Please secure them.
And tell me,
Would you have made the same decision about his antlers?
I want to hear what you think.
If you enjoy stories like this,
with this kind of detail, subscribe to Awesome.
Your support helps us keep looking beyond the headline.
And I'd love to see you here again.
I'm John. Thanks for watching.