On my trip to Bavaria last month, I found everything I could hope for. Above all (literally), there’s the Alps—sharp, jagged mountains that rise straight up from the green valleys that in May were filled with dozens of species of flowers. Not only do the Alps contain conifer trees as tall as the ones in the humid forests of our Northwest, the mountains in Germany also have huge and majestic beeches and oaks, the kind I worshipped (discreetly) in England.
The Bavarian villages are charming, filled with chalets with red-tiled roofs. Nearby, standing in fields of deep grasses, are winsome brown cows wearing large bells around their necks, producing an orchestrated sound that rings out across the valleys.
There are lakes everywhere (Eibsee, left, near the Zugspitze), deep and clear, and undeveloped except for the biergarten that offers panoramic views of the lake and mountains while you indulge in bratwurst and large steins of beer. And then there are the endless cafes where you can indulge in rich pastries and the best coffee I’ve ever had. Not to mention the baroque churches and castles, or the rich culture that produced some of the world’s greatest music and art.
Frankly, it all makes Colorado look a little meager. Our mountains aren’t as dramatic, our trees not as big, and our lakes few and small. Our beer is wunderbar, but our pastries don’t quite measure up to the rich tortes, streudels and stollens crafted by European bakers.
But there’s one thing Colorado has that you can’t find in Bavaria—or in much of Europe: wildlife. Beyond birds and ducks, I saw no animals on our hikes, not even a squirrel in the city parks. I know there must be wild animals, because I saw road signs warning of deer on the roads, but I never saw one. According to one web site, bears, wolves, beavers and elk were hunted to near extinction in Germany (and much of Europe), although a few species are slowly coming back.
It’s a far different situation in Colorado and much of the West, where wildlife can be seen almost everywhere. I’m especially spoiled at my cabin living so close to Rocky Mountain National Park, where much of the wildlife has become accustomed to humans and are thus sometimes too visible to crowds looking for a good selfie with an elk (like this handsome bull on top of Trail Ridge Road this week).
At the cabin this week, I looked up to see a moose walking down the road, towering over my car, and last summer a moose posed in a neighbor's yard (below). Last week, driving from the cabin to Estes Park, I saw a large and healthy looking coyote running through a field of grasses; nearby a herd of elk relaxed in the field..
A neighbor told me he saw a lynx last winter on the frozen creek, and I’ve seen bobcats parade through my yard at the cabin. Although I rarely see beaver, the signs of their existence are everywhere in the form of damned streams and their domed houses made of tree branches. When I sit on the back or front deck, I can watch a constant parade of chipmunks, ground squirrels, chickarees and rabbits run along the fence posts, through the green grasses and around the woodpiles. So far, my cabin neighbors haven’t seen any bear, but it’s only a matter of time before the bears start trying to raid the hummingbird feeders.
Even around my home in Boulder, down on the plains, the colonies of prairie dogs are almost endless, much to the delight of the coyotes, which I can hear howling at night. On the trail up the street from my house, last month a sign warned that rattlesnakes were recently seen.
I might wish for a biergarten overlooking a pristine lake or endless meadows of flowers, but I know I’m lucky and rich beyond anything to live among wild animals, to see their fierceness and joy in living, and to be close to a natural and wild world so far from the safe existence created by humans. Good beer and pastries can be created anywhere, but only a few places are lucky enough to have wildness. We need to hold on to that as fiercely as possible.