picture perfect moose

a beautiful moose and her calf

“Moose!  Moose!”

stage whispers my wife,

outside the guest house, browsing on Rocky Mountain maple,

a mother moose and her calf own the neighborhood,

I slip out the back door and around the house

until my telephoto lens and I can busy ourselves

with snapping picture after picture of the two moose,

calmly munching on leaves and connecting with each other,

the mom always knew where I was

and kept an eye on me every time I moved enough

for her to consider and judge me,

I never got too close,

never made any abrupt moves,

and stayed about 50 feet away:

snapping pictures with care, with hope,

with a desperate joy in the moment,

later, she returned to drink out of the pond

and stood there as if to pose,

so I sang to her:

“Morning has broken . . .”

a song I’ve sun to deer in the Smokies,

to a black bear in Yellowstone,

to marmots and pikas in the Beartooth,

she listened to me, 

as if to consider us connected for a couple of wonderful minutes,

though her calf had less patience with me, or interest,

and wandered off before she did,

I feel my singing and demeanor

helped her to judge me as innocuous,

the most any human with a camera can hope for

from animals immersed in their own world.

by Henry H. Walker

July 4, ’17