The Day of the Lions.
Spring time, Montana. They say spring is often a time of change. And that certain external events mark those changes. I’d just gotten out of a relationship and was adjusting to a new world, new patterns, new rhythms. In essence, I was trying to find myself again. But I was also honestly looking for answers to questions, as so many of us are
I checked the weather report that day and noticed a heavy storm blowing across the northern mountains, particularly over a mountain that has been reliable for filming wildlife. I actively look for storm fronts, because the low light conditions are superior for wildlife viewing and because people flee the outdoors when storms approach. This means I often have locations to myself.
So I drove up into this particular mountain just at the periphery of the Glacier ecosystem as the skies darkened. As expected, I had the place to myself.
At 10 am, I filmed two bears climbing trees as rain spattered down in a dense green forest. After the bears disappeared, I ate lunch and made my way up the mountain, with nothing but bird song and the wind making any kind of noise.
The skies darkened even more and the mountains seemed to be as dark as late dusk. Change was upon me, yet again it seemed.
As I slowly moved up the mountain, I glimpsed a tan, stationary animal at about two hundred yards. I immediately thought it was a deer.
Thunder rumbled the mountain as wind and rain battered me.
I brought my camera and lens to my eye and studied the stationary animal.
A mountain lion stared back at me.
I froze. It knew where I was. Knew what I was long before I even spotted it.
Again, thunder rumbled the mountain. As if to say “we are all changing, even this mountain one day will change.”
Then movement to the left of the original mountain lion. Something emerged from behind a tree.
Another mountain lion.
The new lion approached the other and nuzzled it. Both lions watched me. Then they proceeded to slink up the mountain while keeping an eye on me.
I remember sitting there, awestruck, the storm pummeling me.
Thunder rumbled yet again and the cats were gone. Just like some family members, or other people we once knew. Who’s fault that is doesn’t matter. It just is. Because the wind and the rain will eventually alter even the great mountains.
I did not hike in after the two mountain lions, despite wanting closer images. Instead I let them have their mountain on that stormy spring day.
I never saw them again. Nor have I seen another lion since. But every time I hear thunder, I think about change. And the day that two mountain lions shared their mountain with me. And I smile.
