One day Mama spotted a tourist on a rocky trail in the high country. He wandered too close to the clearing where her twins, Grace Ann and Glory Bee, were playing. Mama grumbled low in her throat, a signal to her girls to quit their tussling and listen up.
The young man was still a ways off when he sat down on a rock. Mama could see that he was hot, tired and thirsty. What a foolish man to set out alone in these mountains without enough water or sunscreen. At least he had the good sense not to bring food. Why don’t these tourists read the safety manuals, Mama thought.
The tourist crushed the empty plastic water bottle in his hand and tossed it down the ravine. Mama moved closer, baring her teeth. These people act like they own this country, she thought.
Mama recalled the people she had struck dead on trails. If only they showed respect, she wouldn’t mind showing off Grace and Glory. Some spotted her in the distance and backed off or stood still. She let them live. Some got too close or teased and taunted. A whack from her mighty forearm ended that foolishness. Most passed by and never noticed what was at play in the shadows.
The tourist pulled himself to his feet and trudged on. He passed by Grace and Glory and never saw them. The sun got hotter, the trail got steeper and the foolish tourist kept going. Mama decided not to waste her time with this one. She knew how it would end. He would seek shade and in his dehydrated state he would drift off to sleep. She would leave him to the night howlers, the coyotes.
Mama circled back and called her girls. They followed her up the mountain, far above where the tourist missed the joy of appreciating their antics and the pain of being swatted by Mama for disrespect. A few days later, a search party carried his remains out of the park.
Moral: Be prepared to meet Grace and Glory on the road.
The young man was still a ways off when he sat down on a rock. Mama could see that he was hot, tired and thirsty. What a foolish man to set out alone in these mountains without enough water or sunscreen. At least he had the good sense not to bring food. Why don’t these tourists read the safety manuals, Mama thought.
The tourist crushed the empty plastic water bottle in his hand and tossed it down the ravine. Mama moved closer, baring her teeth. These people act like they own this country, she thought.
Mama recalled the people she had struck dead on trails. If only they showed respect, she wouldn’t mind showing off Grace and Glory. Some spotted her in the distance and backed off or stood still. She let them live. Some got too close or teased and taunted. A whack from her mighty forearm ended that foolishness. Most passed by and never noticed what was at play in the shadows.
The tourist pulled himself to his feet and trudged on. He passed by Grace and Glory and never saw them. The sun got hotter, the trail got steeper and the foolish tourist kept going. Mama decided not to waste her time with this one. She knew how it would end. He would seek shade and in his dehydrated state he would drift off to sleep. She would leave him to the night howlers, the coyotes.
Mama circled back and called her girls. They followed her up the mountain, far above where the tourist missed the joy of appreciating their antics and the pain of being swatted by Mama for disrespect. A few days later, a search party carried his remains out of the park.
Moral: Be prepared to meet Grace and Glory on the road.
