Before Chuck fell head over heels in love with a raven, our rascal cat had a quite different experience with a bird, one we didn't anticipate, not in a million years.
It all started the June we flew out to Montana to spend a week in Yellowstone National Park. We were staying in a small boutique hotel in Gardiner, the town closest to the park, when one afternoon we decided to go for a walk. We had our cell phone cameras, of course, and binoculars just in case we spotted any wildlife. We were due to start our tour in Yellowstone the next day with Gene, a true mountain man, and we'd heard through the grapevine that animals from Yellowstone park often wandered into Gardiner so we were prepared. After all, there are no fences separating the park from the town.
Chucky came along, of course. He loves being outside. It wasn't long before we had our first wildlife sighting--a female elk, an extraordinary sight indeed. We're used to seeing squirrels and foxes in New Jersey. Maybe a bobcat once in awhile. And once in a great while, a bear. You never see an elk.
We learned later that it's quite common for elk to leave the park, especially the mamas who are pregnant and about to deliver baby elk. They know the town is safer than the park from most predators. Chuck was literally in seventh heaven. Initially, we kept our distance, but Chuck had no problem moving closer. We've always considered him to be a kind of ambassador. Make friends, not enemies. That's his motto.
"Do you think it's safe?" I asked Dan. After all, a female elk can weigh up to 650 pounds. It is the second largest species of deer after the moose.
"Let's wait and see what happens."
"Okay," I said, even though not knowing very much about elk I began to wonder how would she react if she felt threatened. Would she charge without notice, crushing my poor, fearless cat?
But sure enough, as fearless Chuck moved closer, the elk, on notice, tilted her head this way and that as if considering how to handle this short bundle of orange and white fur. Seconds passed. Then she leaped into the distance. She wanted nothing to do with Chuck. I heaved a sigh of relief.
I wondered how Chucky would take to being abandoned so abruptly, but I didn't have to worry. He was already gazing upwards, distracted. Something had flown onto a tree limb. Dan pulled out his binoculars.
"I don't see anything . . ." Dan reported.
"Something must be there. Chuck's been staring at that spot--"
"Wow. Look at that. You should see this bird. It looks tropical."
"Tropical?"
Remember, we were in Montana. There is nothing tropical about Montana. Men wear cowboy hats and boots. Almost everyone walks with some kind of swagger. I felt overly dressed up because I wore mascara.
I grabbed the binoculars and peered through the lens. Sure enough, this was not your usual blue jay or robin. This bird was bright yellow, and had black wings and an orange-red head.
Chucky moved closer. The bird flitted to a nearby branch, and we lost sight of it.
"There it is," I said, following Chucky, whose glance tracked it like a laser beam.
Dan pulled out his camera. I knew nothing about which birds lived in Montana, but if I had to guess, this had to be an unusual bird.
For the next half hour, no kidding, Chuck, Dan and I followed that
darned bird. It flitted from branch to branch, and then much to my surprise landed on top of a rooftop before hopping down on a branch near a house. Dan was able to get some distant photos.
It seemed every time we honed in closer, the bird took off and flew further away. We still had no idea what kind of bird it was.
Later that evening, we went across the street to Pizza, Pasta, and Salad, the one restaurant that was still open, only to discover the only thing they were serving was pizza. As we waited in line for a table, we met a couple from down south who'd come to Yellowstone to bird watch. (Sometimes I think the universe deliberately sets things up so that you get some of the things you want.)
You can guess what happened next. Dan whipped out his cell phone and showed the woman the photo of the bird Chucky had spotted. She nearly died. "I've been here in Yellowstone National Park for two weeks," she said, "looking for that very bird. That's a Western Tanager. How did you ever find it? They love to remain hidden."
We could have told her the truth, but sometimes it's too hard to explain about Chucky. So we told her a version of what happened and left Chuck out of the story entirely. Excited that we'd actually spotted the bird nearby, she decided on the spot to postpone her trip back home so she could see the bird in person and get some photos.
Later, back at the hotel, Dan googled the Western Tanager, feeling like we'd spotted some kind of celebrity bird.
"You're not going to believe this. The Western Tanager is a songbird, part of the Cardinal family."
Chuck sat up when he heard that.
"If you actually spot one of these birds, and it's not easy, that lady was right, it means that change is coming your way. It's the universe's way of telling you to let go of things that aren't going well in your life. It's a time for a new beginning."
We both looked over at our hero cat. Was seeing this bird a mere coincidence, or was someone through Chuck trying to tell us something?
"Chuck, I want to ask you something . . ."
Dan touched my arm. "Let it go, Kate."
Chuck, oblivious to our existential angst, let out a big yawn and then stretched out his paw and fell instantly asleep.
Yeah, for Chuck a bird is a bird, unless, of course, it's a raven.
