Birds Don't Count
“Does a bird count?” asked our middle child, right after we had gone through the entry gate at Rocky Mountain National Park.
“No - absolutely not” replied our oldest; always the one to make, keep and enforce the rules.
“They should.” Middle child sat back with a sigh. Youngest child quietly gazed out the window from her seat in the back of the SUV.
It was a somewhat gloomy July day - uncharacteristic for Colorado - and our family had decided to spend it at the park (affectionately referred to by us as just “Rocky”). We are fortunate to live less than an hour from this natural treasure, and quick trips up to Rocky are a family favorite.
Another family favorite is winning. It doesn’t matter if it’s a card game, a race to finish a chore or a challenge to read the most books: our family likes to win.
Therefore it comes as no surprise that we have developed a competition even in the unhurried, “take it at your own pace” majesty of our nation’s national parks.
The prize? Usually ice cream in the flavor of the winner’s choice.
Our competition involves animal spotting, and despite going over the (admittedly amorphous and subjective) rules every time we go into any national park, the game seems to change with each visit. Some days gross tonnage is the key to victory: the bigger the animal you spot first, the more likely you are to win. Other days, sheer volume can get you the win: spot the most, and you come out on top.
Today the competition is all about the last category: rarity. Seeing elk and deer simply don’t count since they are relatively plentiful. But seeing a moose or a bear? You win. Today’s competition rules are courtesy of oldest child, who, again, likes to set said rules especially when he thinks they are skewed to help him win. Sitting in the front passenger seat of the car certainly provides him a distinct advantage in potentially spotting wildlife first.
Aware of the unfair pecking order of the seating arrangement, youngest child has adapted. She knows of her underdog status and takes it as a personal challenge to overcome her disadvantage in the far back of the SUV.
On this particular day, her tactic was to appear disengaged. Maybe if her older brother and sister thought she wasn’t paying attention, they might slack off in the scanning of the landscape.
For a while, it was a peaceful family drive. We talked about where the elk and moose might be on a day like today: it being a cloudy day, they may not all be high up in the park like they are on hot days in the summer. Would we see any in Moraine Valley? How about near Sprague Lake? Certainly not at Bear Lake - too many people. Maybe near Alluvial Fan?
We spotted some elk, a few deer, and some birds that middle child still felt should count for something.
As we rounded a curve, youngest child bolted up in her seat, pumped her fists in the air, and shouted “MOOSE!!!!” I about jumped out of my skin.
Sure enough, off to the right of the road, tucked behind a small hill, a young bull moose was chomping on some vegetation. No one else had seen it.
She had done it: won not only in the gross tonnage category, but she had also met the requirements for rarity.
With a smug smile, she sat back in her seat, crossed her arms, and said “mint chocolate chip, please and thank you.”