Where the Wild Things Are

I make a big deal about bears – about how I’m always looking for them.  I’ve complained that even though I was never guaranteed to find one, at least when I lived in Alberta, I knew where to go look.  I knew where to search for moose.  I knew the best places to go birding and where I would be most likely to spot a herd of elk.

I didn’t always know.  

Even though I grew up in Alberta, it wasn’t until I had moved away for a few years and came back that I began to understand and appreciate what Alberta was.  It wasn’t until someone handed me a camera that I realized there were more birds out there than Magpies and Mallards.  It took me until I was in my 40’s to see the beauty in a field of wheat, the call of a coyote, the taste of a thunderstorm and the songs of tiny frogs. 

Sometimes, I miss all that.  

It’s not that BC doesn’t have all those things.  I know it does. I just don’t know where to find them – yet.

Except for the sheep.  I know where to find the California Big Horn Sheep.  There is no way for me to adequately express how truly fortunate I am to live in such a place, a place where fifteen minutes after leaving my house, I am looking through my lens at these glorious creatures.

Because it’s such a short distance, I went out twice this week – once early in the morning, when the sky was the colour of sapphires,

 

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and again, late in the afternoon, while the sun slipped behind the mountains.  

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So, if you hear me complaining that I haven’t seen a bear or that I forget what a moose looks like, just remind me that there are still plenty of roads to travel.  Remind me that I live in a world of endless possibilities.  Say, “Sally, remember the sheep.”