In five days I will fly to Montana. From there, I will drive to Wyoming, specifically Lamar Buffalo Ranch which is located in the heart of Yellowstone National Park. Being the product of a sheltered urban upbringing, makes me equally excited and fearful about the prospect of this adventure. Even strangers can glance at my face, and instantly tell by my pale skin that I do not get-out-much. Considering how neurotic I can be, and how I consistently over think things, it is amazing that I am doing this. Being alone and off-the-grid, while driving into and then staying inside, one of the largest generally intact ecosystems in the temperate world, is so foreign to me that I can’t compute. My mind simply cannot access or download this idea. When people ask if I’m excited about my trip I say, “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Most of my experiences with nature have been imagined, or seen on TV, not real. Sure I went camping once, but I ended up, like Matt Foley, sleeping in a van down by the river. Last week on Tuesday, it was about noon with the sun bearing down hard, when I witnessed two Mockingbirds get hit and run over by an SUV. With all traces of composure lost, I remained crestfallen for the entire day. Pacing back and forth like an animal would in distress, I wanted to fix it, or improve this sad situation but I could not. At the back of my mind though, I was aware that this was foreshadowing. Nature is rough and difficult. It is possible that I will see death again when I go to Yellowstone. I have imagined gray wolves for so long, that I cannot predict how I will physically react when I actually see one. I imagine that my reaction will be similar to how Elvis would respond after he returned to Graceland from a really long absence or how the overprotective clownfish Marlin would react when he finally found his wayward son Nemo. Put it this way, I think about wolves as often as Pooh bear takes naps-which-is-all-the-time. Wish me luck!!
