Wildlife, or more precisely, people doing stupid things while watching wildlife, has been in the news recently.
Some of it has been comical.
Consider the woman in Yellowstone who ventured too close to a cow elk in Yellowstone while snapping photos. The cow, possibly defending a nearby calf, charged the woman and head-butted her onto her business end. The moment was captured on cell phone video complete with commentary from the somewhat annoying, but absolutely correct bystanders who scolded the lady for being too close.
By the way folks, video is a horizontal format. Turn that phone sideways when you’re capturing moving images.
There was also the case of the woman, in the park as well, who got way too close to a mother black bear with cubs. Billings Gazette outdoor writer Brett French happened to be there, telephoto lens in hand, and snapped a few shots. Fortunately, the woman backed away before the mama bear decided to do something entirely appropriate, such as bite off a chunk of the woman’s nose.
By now everyone has heard about the child who fell into the gorilla habitat at the Cincinnati Zoo, resulting in the death of the magnificent silverback, Harambe. OK, technically, zoo animals aren’t wildlife, but the rules of responsible behavior still apply. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here to declare you’re not being responsible if you’re so distracted you don’t notice your young child leaping into a gorilla pit.
I’ll also weigh in with my belief that zoo officials had no choice but to kill Harambe. I know some folks are convinced that somehow the silverback was actually trying to protect the child, rather than harm him. But the boy could have been easily killed by even a protective gorilla. Call me a speciesist, but I’m on board with the idea that one child’s life is more important than even a beautiful animal such as Harambe.
Still, I have to admit that the decision might not have been so clear cut if the choice had been between that gorilla and the boy’s knucklehead parents.
I prefer to encounter wildlife while hunting and fishing, but I still get a thrill just watching. Last fall the Elk Hunter and I spied a trio of magnificent elk, all seeming on first glance to be sporting 300-plus sets of antlers. It was just a fleeting glimpse through the timber as we traveled along a mountain highway, but it had us babbling with excitement the rest of the ride home.
I drove across Montana the other day, on Interstate 90 from Missoula to Billings. There was the usual assortment of critters along the interstate, including plenty of my favorite: pronghorn. What was especially fun on this trip is that so many of the does had babies in tow. In one instance as I neared a field east of Livingston, I spotted a small group of does, maybe a half dozen. As I got closer I could make out fawns, heads just a bit taller than the alfalfa. Around one of the does I could see a pair of fawns frolicking around their mom in a kind of pronghorn maypole dance.
I had to smile. Twins are a good thing in my book.
Not every watchable wildlife moment is such a cheery one. On that same drive across Montana I had a startling encounter with one of my least favorite critters: rattlesnakes. It was a warm, sunny day and that’s a combination that turns pavement into a fatal attraction for snakes. Near Belgrade I spotted a coiled up rattler too late to do anything but turn the reptile into road kill. Drivers who swerve for snakes at 80 mph aren’t drivers on worldly highways for long.
The scary thing is that I’m pretty sure I saw that rattler striking out at my truck, just before I felt the thump under my tires.
I have to admit I flinched.