Marlene and I met this little follow on a long hike through the mountains of Rocky Mountain National Park back in 2008.  It had been a very long walk as we followed a stream up into the mountains.  It was a warm day and I was growing a little weary.  It would have been very easy to turn around and head back, but we just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

We came to an intersection of two trails.  One led back to the trailhead and the other continued following the stream.  We decided to take a break and we sat down beside the water, listening to the water dance down the slope.  And then, my eye caught a glimpse of motion off to my left.

This little critter had seen us taking our break and decided to check us out.  I was guessing that he was hoping we hadn’t read the signs about not feeding the animals.  He slipped up on us very cautiously.  At first, he kept his distance and hid behind the rocks that lay scattered about.  He would ease his way to the top of a boulder and look at us.  If we moved he retreated.  But if we stayed still he would become a bit bolder.  We played his game for a while and he came to the boulder that was right in front of us.

He knew we had food because we were eating our trail snacks.  He still wasn’t sure that we would share.  Eventually, he crept his way to the top of this boulder where he perched with ever hopeful eyes.  We spent quite a few minutes getting to know one another.  As long as we remained in our place he was comfortable being “present” to us and the situation.  This is the great gift that our non-human neighbors bring into our lives.  They are completely present to us.  There is no judgment.  There are no games.  They simply live in that moment of encounter.  They seem to enjoy the visit.

This critter shared a good portion of his afternoon with us, just because.  It became clear that we were not going to feed him.  But he did not seem to mind.  He remained with us anyway.  It seems all needed a bit of a break from our day’s tasks.  Eventually, I took my camera and he did not flinch.  I was able to take a whole series of shots of him posing and playing on that boulder.  We were both playing and, I believe, we both enjoyed the “photo shoot.”

Eventually, we needed to get moving and so I reluctantly bid farewell to my new friend.  He scampered off to resume his day gathering food.  We resumed our trek up the valley by that singing stream.  But the real song was in my heart.  All thanks to a little critter who took the time to give us the gift of his sacred presence.

Bob Dees