Into the Wild

The Nastase family went on a search for adventure this past Sunday. We drove down to the Santa Ritas (the mountain range about 30 minutes south of us) and decided to hike the Elephant Head trail. Elephant Head is an aptly named peak on the Southwest end of the range. Here is a photo of it, taken by my mom. (Can you see the profile of an elephant, wrinkles, the outline of the trunk and an eye?)



The craggy, remote-looking surface is vastly different than the other mountains around, and we had never been there, so it was the perfect place to go explore.

On our drive we discussed Ryan & Abby having almost encountered a black bear just a few weeks before, in the same mountain range. (They were hiking in Madera Canyon, just a few miles from E.H.) Shivers of fear went up & down my spine as I considered the danger. Thankful that they had escaped peril, I reentered our conversation.

Coincidentally, Sophia recently completed a unit on the black bear in school, and was sharing useful information about the animal. (One such piece of 'information', "Black bears love gummy bears. If you have grass and berries, you can give them to a black bear if you see one. If you give it gummy bears, it will eat them all and be very happy!")

As we parked our vehicle at the trail head and prepared to embark on our jaunt, Sophia informed us (in a stage whisper) "I brought gummy bears! Just in case."



Daddy, a world-traveling-outdoorsman, reassured us we were safe, that bears don't come down "this low".

Even with his words of comfort, as we trampled through the savannah, I quietly kept my eyes and ears peeled for fast moving, carnivorous wildlife. (Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!)

After awhile, though, my concern waned and I became more comfortable and began to enjoy the lovely day and the unique topography. Jack was happily perched in a backpack carrier and Sophia skipped along, singing sweetly under her breath. The sky in Arizona is amazing and so BIG, the mountains surrounding us accent the beauty perfectly.






We stopped to admire a strange tree, bare of leaves except for a large ball of greenery hanging near the top. The naturalist in our group (Chris) recognized it as mistletoe.(Who knew that a Christmas decoration grew in the southwest?!)



As we continued on our westward march, I *thought* I heard something. Then I heard it again. A very low, very loud sound, then movement in the grass. It was around the corner on the path on which we were walking.




And then, through the amber brush, I saw a dark flash...



AND THERE IT WAS...



MOOO!

Then from all directions around us, a chorus of moos answered the "Path Blocker". We laughed out loud, a little bit out of relief. Then he mooed again and the chorus mooed and we laughed some more. And then he stood there. And we just stood there. All of us eyed each other warily, like ninja warriors sizing one another up.



We were, in a phrase, in a "Mexican Standoff". With a brown cow. (A herd of his brethren had his back and were mocking us, in their cow way.)



The Path Blocker was BIG! Sophia was in awe and I have to admit being a little overwhelmed. We yelled, yeehawed and gitouttahere'd at the beast, but to no avail. I'd almost given up and suggested that we retreat, but then inspiration struck. We could "tip" it! Being from Nebraska, cow tipping should come as second nature to me. (Unfortunately it doesn't.) Soon as that brilliant thought was born, its sister followed. "Doesn't one tip sleeping bovine?" This one was clearly WIDE AWAKE. And still not moving.

Finally my big, brave husband slowly moved forward waving his massive, muscular arms, the cow (in terror) threw out the white flag and gave in. He moved slowly to the side, and as we passed, emitted a last, mournful "moo".

Man prevailed over wild, once again.