One lucky day last Fall I happened to see our herd of elk in the field behind our house. Their heads turned as one, their steps were as one, their listening was as one, ears capturing every sound, their jog was as one and they were completely silent. They listen far and see far. They knew everything that was going on around them and within their circle and they knew I was watching. Their ears and their eyes tell you that. They look right at you. They listen at you. We counted; there were 40.
There was a regal female, a queen of an elk leading the group slowly and carefully around the side of the house. Several smaller animals, some almost fully grown, some obviously yearlings, others even younger followed her. We ran out front to watch them. I couldn't take my eyes off of them long enough to grab my video camera just a few feet away (curse me!). There were three grand bulls with huge racks watching over the group from the rear. They stopped, they listened, they looked.
The lead cow approached the barbed wire fence at the front of the property and stood still before it, listening, looking, thinking. She couldn't see down the road to the left because of tall bushes. She listened for cars then leaped just over the fence. Waited there just on the other side looking and listening before walking onto the road. What we saw next was absolutely gorgeous. She waited there in the middle of the road in full view of cars coming from either direction and waited there.
Quickly and one by one the other members of the herd began jumping the fence to join her. Those that could not jump over tried jumping through the two highest wires and some were falling and scraping themselves. The youngest were trying to scramble under the lowest wire and were getting caught and becoming frightened and frantic.
One of the bulls walked up from the back of the herd to asses the situation. The young ones stood back. He looked at the barbed wire fence as if assessing the situation. He stepped back, he lowered his body, gathered his energy and hurled himself forward with such force that he broke the two top wires with his chest before skidding like a bullet on the ground on the other side of the fence. He got up and watched as the rest of the herd quickly moved through the opening he had made in the fence. They all ran to follow the 'great mother' to the other side of the road where they gathered before running up the hill toward more private ground.
My son and I stood watching in awe; we witnessed the divine that day.
We see these fabulous wild animals all over here in the misty back forties where the fog hangs low, the hedges grow tall and ducks live in the make shift ponds that come and go with the rain and snow melt. The elk, the bear, the fowl, the bald eagles, the country people, the horses, the dairy cows and even the coyotes coexist out here.
There is always a threat that the town will open this rural area up for housing development. My landlords want to sell their 30 acres here in 5 acre parcels. Plastic red tape is flying in the wind marking boundaries signaling something ominous. My heart bleeds to think it. Where will the dairy farmer graze his cows, how long before some suburbanite gets hurt by an elk and they are run out of their traditional grazing lands, what happens when the brown bear takes his Fall walk along the blackberry bushes that line the fields after the development comes? What happens to the honorable balance that has been achieved here?
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