On Saturday, E and I took advantage of the opportunity to go for a hike in Rocky Mountain National Park. It was our first Park hike of the spring, a time we had been anticipating throughout the dark, snowy months of winter. We had enjoyed our cozy weekends at the family mountain house during the winter, of course….the fireplace was oh-so-nice, and the snow was spectacularly beautiful and QUIET. The winter weekends in the mountains were restful, but the promise of spring was never far from our minds. During our April visit, we noticed that the non-human mountain residents were clearly thinking spring. The birds were singing, the elk were roaming around with new babies in tow, and the snow was slowly retreating. That all set the stage for our May visit this past weekend.
The high peaks still gleamed with snow, but the white stuff was gone from the lowlands, and the birds and four-legged critters were busy. It seemed like the time had finally come, the day we’d been waiting for since our last hike in the fall. It was time to hit the trail! We laced up our new hiking boots, packed a backpack with snacks and water, and drove into Rocky Mountain National Park excitedly. The day was mostly overcast but temps were in the ‘50s; light jackets layered over fleeces sufficed. We set out on the Fern Lake trail, and soon were lost in the splendor of the Rockies in spring. From every high rock and cliff, small streamlets raced downhill carrying their snowmelt. The Big Thompson River rippled gratefully over its rocky riverbed as it received all the snowmelt offerings from the surrounding hills. Birds were everywhere, singing constantly and gathering food. The warblers we saw would not be still long enough to be identified, but we were able to pick a brown creeper and a red-breasted nuthatch out of the crowd. Ravens cawed from the cliff-tops above us. Chickadees whizzed around our heads. Somewhere high above the trail, a male broad-tailed hummingbird announced his return to the Rockies. The birds know it’s spring.
There were still occasional patches of snow on the trail and along shady sections of the river bank; they had held on this long, and were not quite ready to give up the fight. But their days are clearly numbered. Even though the deciduous trees had not yet leafed, and even though it was mostly overcast and cool, spring was unmistakable in the life busily living all around us. We were surrounded by the feeling of nature waking up after a long winter’s sleep. It was as if we were in Narnia for the first spring after Aslan’s return. We soaked it all up, from our booted feet to the crowns of our heads. Spring is magic.
As if the hike had not been wonderful enough (which it certainly had been), on our way back down the trailhead, I spotted some movement in a pond which the trail overlooked. We had noticed many trees along the trail which had recently been gnawed by beavers, so we were paying special attention to the pond, hoping to see one of the furry engineers at work. But we saw something else entirely. There, wading in the shallow water, feeding, were three moose, a mother and her two yearlings. They moved slowly through the water, snuffling around for their meal of water plants, lifting their dripping muzzles regularly to make sure that we were no cause for concern. A duck swimming around the pond intrigued one of the youngsters; the duck seemed completely uninterested.
We were completely awestruck. Moose are rare on the east side of Rocky Mountain National Park, and I had never seen one (let alone 3!) from such a close vantage point. E had never seen moose at all! They are such enormous, gentle, strange, and wondrous creatures. We both could have watched them all day. And one of the coolest things about the experience was that the other hikers who stopped to watch them seemed to feel the same way. Everyone whispered, if they spoke at all. All were quiet and respectful. No one tried to get too close to the moose. We were united in our awe, moved to silent wonder by these amazing animals. None of us will ever forget those three moose, and the gift of the extraordinary, that they gave us one Saturday in May. For the rest of that day, and even the next day, E and I would just look at each other at random intervals and say “moose!” We were so lucky to have been at that particular place at that time to share a few minutes with those three moose. Nature has always been a source of great joy and spiritual renewal for me, and those three moose, as well as all of the springtime beauty of the Park, have given me a bumper crop of both. All I have to do is think of those wet, goofy-looking moose, and I can’t stop grinning. Thank you, moose, and thank you, Rocky Mountain National Park. You’ve worked your magic again.
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