Close Encounters of the Best Kind

 In June, at Cub Lake in Rocky Mountain National Park, I was sitting by the side of the lily-covered lake when I heard thrashing in the woods. It sounded like a big animal, maybe a bear or elk, although elk don’t usually hang out among the trees. I certainly wasn’t expecting a moose, which are mainly seen on the west side of the park, although I saw a moose wandering in the woods by my cabin about a month ago.

 

But there it was—in all its ungainly glory, emerging from the trees and running into the lake, kicking up its legs and splashing water everywhere, like a kid. As I watched, amazed, from the other side of the lake, it repeated its romp several times, as if it had nothing better to do than enjoy itself and this lake.

 

  And then it started swimming across the lake, heading to where I was standing. Because I know moose can be belligerent, I started looking for a tree to hide behind, especially as it got closer. But when it was about 20 feet away, it must have smelled me and veered off toward the other end of the lake, where it emerged wet, shaking itself.

 

In her new CD, Unconditional Confidence, Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron talks about animals as being wake-up calls in our lives. She talks about walking near her abbey in Nova Scotia, her head full of thoughts, when she heard the ravens  and looked up to see the whole of the Pacific Ocean in front of her.

 

That moose definitely woke me up, just like the bear that approached the cabin one night at dusk, heading straight for the front door, which was open. I jumped from the couch, not sure what appropriate action to take, but, like the moose, the bear must have smelled something human, must still have carried some fear or wariness of humans, and turned in the other direction.

 

I’ve had some amazing animal encounters this year. In May, a friend and I were hiking on one of the Boulder mountain trails and saw a bobcat on the ground, almost blending in with the foliage, not more than 10 feet away from us. What’s more, it didn’t run away immediately, intent on something on the ground, perhaps an animal it had caught. I’ve only seen a bobcat once before in the wild, and that was, strangely, in an Estes Park subdivision last year, walking along the road.

 

Two weeks ago, a goshawk landed on my neighbor’s fence post, which I noticed because of the raucous calling of the jays and crows. Sightings are rare because goshawks have the unusual ability to fly among the trees and thus blend into the landscape. That same week, a hike up to Pawnee Pass brought me almost face to face with two marmots (one pictured above), which exhibited almost no fear of me, or maybe they were just too comfortable basking on the rocks in the sun to move when I walked by.

I feel lucky about every encounter with wildlife. To me, wild animals represent something from another world, an alternate universe, where the activities that make up our days—working at our computers, driving in our cars, watching TV—have no meaning for them, and their world—having to find food every day or else starve to death—is so far from our existence we might as well be on separate continents. So when we brush against the world of wild animals, we are touching a world that no longer exists for most humans.

 

Almost more than the moose, the huge herds of elk in the park, the deer and bear that wander by my cabin at dusk, I enjoy the ground squirrels. Outside my window they perch on the fence, stretch out in languid positions, gaze soulfully into the distance, scratch themselves furiously and generally act as if the world belonged to them and they had nothing better to do than enjoy it. Not only do they entertain me, but they take me out of my own world. Just the wake-up call I need.

Comments

[Julene]

How blessed you were to see that Moose in all its "ungainly glory" (love that phrase) and to have your camera handy, Kathy. The pictures you took of it are fantastic. The second one is worthy of a wildlife calendar. And to think it was just romping in the water for the fun of it. Sounds like my dog Moose, who I am now convinced more than ever is aptly named.

[Barb]

Your encounters and the subsequent photos are wonderful, Kathy. I especially love the basking marmot.

[Claire Walter]

A moose at Cub Lake! Amazing. I know that they have wandered east of the Divide. Maybe it was there just to be photographed at that much-visited lake. Moose seem to have no particular reluctance to being in "human territory." I've seen them in parking lots in Anchorage. Thnx for these images -- of course, your beauitful reflective thoughts.

[shoney]

Wow! What great photos! I've been hoping to see a moose this summer, but I think that these animal visions come at unexpected times....thank you for writing about your encounters.

[Sally]

I loved these pictures and your escapades with the wildlife is something I envy!! I just love the animals and you have it right about the alternative universe. Maybe they harken us back to a more simple time...