A chill night some fifteen hundred feet below tree line on a mountain gave a faux-impression of probable warmth as a silver-glow teasingly bleached the eastern sky born of an alabaster pale full moon ascending a deep purple night tending to pitch black; luster moon beams assailed the black mirrored surface of yonder lake dancing a sparkle-diamond cadence choreographed upon it. Micah tossed another log upon the blaze as the pair huddled close and chatted softly and enjoyed. The celestial Peace-tranquility of the splendid natural venue.
Traci studied Micah’s chiseled
facial-silhouette in the eerie quiet of backlighted silver moon shadows; he
was, indeed, a very handsome man. He seemed forlorn; something on his mind.
“Across the lake, there, where the copse
of evergreens approach the water’s edge,” he pointed and her eyes followed his
lead. “The “wapiti” herd will come to
drink upon the softness of dawn; they will slake their night-thirst at first
light. If we are lucky to see their approach, the trees will be fully vacant
gray morning shadows, seemingly uninhabited, and, then, like a magician’s wave
of his wand---Magic!...the elk will
materialize, out of nothing! And, in a blink, there they are!”
As Micah spoke his tale to enlighten his
mountain guest, she could not help but sense sadness interspersed within his
reverence presentation; she dared not interrupt his reverie.
“They will have nighted deep within the
verdant emerald forest keeping vigil through the dark night. We’ll hear the
coyote howl and the grey timber-wolf bay at the full moon in his lonesome
lament, tonight; the wapiti herd will not miss the
announcement.
“The bull of the herd will tender- care
and protective-be of his harem. Interlopers, young bulls too inexperienced to
know his prowess might bugle a challenge but few will be heedless enough to
test the emperor’s zeal of those who chose to do so, most will be handily
defeated, a few will perish. Other predators might also accost the king-bull elk.
“The surreptitious “shadow” of the
mountains, the cougar, also known as a puma, catamount and mountain lion prowls
these heights for any survival meal.
They are fearsome smart! Smart! Clandestine! Confident in silent stalking
mayhem. The phantom can kill a man.
Wolf packs hunt in groups; they have
been known to take even a full grown bull elk. Usually, they serve Mother
Nature in their tenure, cleaning up the culls, the weak or sick or injured;
even acting as nature’s ‘disposal’ unit disposing of winter kill and natural
death.”
He paused, taking in a deep breath,
seeming exhilarated in the telling of his mountain tale.
She snuggled closer and gripped his arm
even tighter sensing that while Micah remained in human form beside at the
comforting flames, his spirit had
transported to a better space and time; she admitted that she could sense his
venue in some unknown; her spirit joined his venture.
He shifted his weight slightly on his
hips, then continued in his lesson to his Love!
“Yonder! East! Upon the heather-colored
swales, live the wily antelope, the ‘Ghosts-of-the-plains’, as the Indians call
them. Swift afoot, they can be as elusive as any graveyard wraith.
“Mule deer, the citizens of the Rockies,
awesome game to catch---but, fun and…tasty!”
He paused and looked into her eyes; she
recognized his Love and sad lament
expression.
“And,” Micah continued, staring into
some vacant distance she could not reach yet fully felt in some unaccustomed
space, “the Indians. Your children whom you love and teach. They suffer the
inexhaustible indignation of the white man’s progress. ‘Modern’ man!? Hmm!
I wonder?
(Part 4 of 9 Tomorrow)
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