What has been a long, cold winter in which I have found
myself tolerating the onslaught of snow in three different states has perhaps
saved its best punch for last; the arrival of a mid-April snow storm in what is
supposed to be the time of year we are awaiting turkey season, not anticipating
icy roads. As I look to the sky I can sense that Old Man Winter is holding
tight and while his resistance is admirable he will soon fall as he always does.
It is as if he is on the edge of a cliff and his grip is flagging. While his
fingers reach and search for each and every crevice to dig themselves into, the
tremendous force of gravity will soon pull him down and give way to a new equinox.
As we await the change it is no longer a matter of if but when.
As I look back though I have little reason to complain as
this has so far been a month of firsts, a spring in which I have realized the
fulfillment of one of my most longstanding and sincere wishes; a month that
added an equally moving ripple to my wish and a month that as is by all
accounts, only half way past. I can only hope that the next two weeks live up
to the preceding two.
A few weeks ago I wrote an article entitled “Encounters of
the Wild Kind” in which I delved into the unexpected wildlife encounters we are
often confronted with in the outdoors. But there are other times in the course
of our lives in which we have these face to face meetings outside the hunting
world and find a very routine day turn into something entirely beyond words.
These days are the ones we talk about with friends for years to come as those
moments that keep the day to day living out in agrarian America exciting.
Without divulging what I do for a living I can say that I often
times find myself in the middle of nowhere, driving around in the land of no
cell service where getting your truck stuck means you and your shovel are in it
for the long haul (quick tip for rural living: make sure you have a shovel). Earlier
this week, shortly after the sun had risen I was beginning my work day when I
approached a small, inconspicuous town in east-central Minnesota. With the brakes pressing against the wheels I
could feel my rig begin to slow and then, there in front of me out of a ditch
came a broad figure, moving quickly and clearly intent on beating me across the
road. It took me only half a second to process the image but what I had just
seem emerge from the woods and take two or three bounds across the county
highway was a bobcat, my first ever.
He was beautiful and sleek, his powerful legs driving him up
across the road, his short bobbed tail following suit. His coat was lighter in
color, perfectly adapted for the winter wilderness. He moved with a speed and
art that clearly separated him from anything I had ever come across. He looked
powerful and stalwart yet realizing his vulnerability at that moment, decidedly
wanted to immerse himself in the woods once again. It was as I mentioned a
ripple, an anomaly, a break in the stillness of time as to go unseen by so many
but presenting itself right before me. That day is a blur, I’m not even sure
what I did or if I really accomplished anything but that moment was more than
enough to leave me feeling thoroughly gratified. However, I had no idea at the
time that the bobcat was only a precursor in what would soon be one a wildlife
week worth remembering.
The very next day I woke up, still picturing the cat in my
head and began my work before dawn. As the morning progressed I found myself
driving down an old dirt road and without warning I was removed from the
forests that lined the landscape and entered a stretch of open hay fields. With
the inclination to let my eyes wander I looked over to see what I had been
wanting to see since I was a teenager, what everyone should see once in their
lives; the animal that is both loved and hated and the center of much debate, a
wolf. And not some wolf kept for show or some wolf rehabilitating in a wildlife
facility but a real live, wild Minnesota wolf. The pleasure was something bordering
on ecstasy and to think about it now is to feel my cheeks tighten as a smile
works its way onto my face.
I had over the years wondered if I would actually be able to
spot a wolf if I were to come across one. You often hear these stories of
mistaken identity (a large coyote, a domestic dog) but when I laid eyes on that
animal at just over a hundred yards, I knew it instantly. His physique, size,
and stature were that of an apex predator and he looked every bit the part. His
head had weight to it, his body was muscular, his tail long, and his feet as
big as on any canine I have ever run across. And there he stood, literally,
looking dead at me, unsure whether he should run or go about his business,
everything in my head hoping for the latter. It was awe-inspiring and as it
turns out, unlike so many wildlife moments that are fleeting, he decided to
stay a while. I rolled down the window, put my seat back and watched him as the
morning moisture burned off.
I was tempted to reach back and get my camera but told
myself that the seconds wasted fumbling in the back would be precious seconds I
could never get back. I knew that I may never get this chance again and if I
was going to watch this amazing animal I was going to see him with my own eyes,
not through of that of a camera lens. And there he stayed, poking his head into
gopher holes, ignoring a group of sharp-tailed grouse dancing in the distance
behind him. He strolled along lifting his head every so often to look at me and
then back down to the ground. I just remember thinking he was so big, so unlike
anything I had ever seen in my life. It was as the Gods had seen to personally
taking my wildlife wish list and were presenting me with a gift. To whoever is
up there, all I can say is, “Thank you”.
Eventually the wolf would meander his way into a willow
stand and fade off into the distance and I had never been so happy. I stepped
out of the truck, put my hands on my head and smiled. Does it get any better?
And I have to wonder, if not for hunting, would I have ever noticed him. We,
over time, as hunters, develop a sort of peripheral vision, tuned in and locked
in to any small movements, incredibly wild in essence. But it gives us that
slight edge, that slight advantage that may just make a missed opportunity the
moment of a lifetime. This was certainly one of those moments for me. I still
can’t believe it, a wolf, a wild wolf. And despite the national conflict that
has emerged in the past 25 years there is still something to be said by
everyone in laying their eyes upon this secluded predator.
As we move onward the first will keep coming. This month is
only half over and tomorrow I make my way out onto the frozen Minnesota lakes to
drop my first line in for ice fishing. We’ll head out in the evening in search
of freshwater crappies and bluegill, a co-worker, a seasoned fisherman
preparing to show me the ropes, literally. With 30 inches of ice still bearing
down on the lake’s underbelly we are assured a measure of relaxation.
Bobcats, wolves, and ice fishing...what more could an outdoorsman
ask for?
No comments:
Post a Comment