Really wasn't that long ago. I was sitting on the continental divide up above the north fork of the Flat Head. I had a little flat spot behind some fir trees to block the wind blowing straight in my face. I kept hearing something making little noises here and there. I kept wondering what it might be that close to me. So, I stepped out a few feet and sat down on the grass eating a sandwich hoping to get a look at this bird, squirrel, martin, or whatever and a nice Bull Elk sticks his head out from behind the trees maybe 30 feet away.
My rifle was leaning against the tree where I had been standing.
He never really paid any attention to me but turned around because of a steep ravine that he didn't want to get in to. I eased back down to my rifle, but never saw him again in the thick.
I felt about the same as the time I ran over myself with my own truck.