Last week we were returning home from a party. It was late, at least for us in our elder years. We drove through Wind Cave Park, the blackness of a moonless night surrounding us. Suddenly, in the car lights, four large elk leapt across in front of us. Bob stopped the car, waiting for the rest of the herd. I opened the window to listen. There was not a sound. The four elk stood frozen to the side of the road. On the opposite side we could see the outline of the rest of the herd, all were antlered and magnificent as they stood silently like statues, barely visible in the inky darkness. We waited. They waited. Then quickly and silently the four elk who had first ventured in front of our car returned to the remaining herd. They made not a sound. It was as if they were four ghost ships gliding across a glassy sea. Then, in an instant, the entire herd faded into the night.
We drove on. In a few miles we came across a large herd of mule deer. They ignored us, barely looking up from eating the green roadside grass. Again I opened my window. Again there was silence, but this time I could hear one large deer standing within a few feet. There was the faint sound of grass chewing...ever so faint. The herd continued to eat and we drove on.
Just before we left the park a herd of bison came into view of our headlights. Some of them were on the road, searching for salt left by cars. This group were not as silent. I could hear a few snorts and the heavy breathing of one who loomed too close to the car. They were not intimidated by us. It seemed as if they knew their power and had no need to flee.
Our drive home took about 30 minutes. There was no moonlight or daylight, but yet we felt the beauty of our Hills. It is a great place to live, no matter the season or time of day. We arrived home filled with gratitude.
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