I have to admit. I never heard of a Musk Ox before I went to Alaska. I never saw one in a zoo. I never saw one on TV.
Theo is also suspicious. We have a chance to visit a Musk Ox Farm.
"Sounds like fun," I tell him.
He squints up at me, seemingly disbelieving every word that comes out of my mouth.
"No, they're real animals," I hasten to add. "I'm not kidding."
"Do I have a choice?" He doesn't say those words, but I can usually tell what's rattling around in that cat brain of his.
So we are here. A beautiful day. A rambling farm where the musk oxen roam. In Palmer, Alaska.
We learn there's an organization FOMO that's dedicated to protecting and teaching the world about musk ox. And, of course, selling some products and making some money.
We learn that back in 1954, to help preserve these animals, John Teal domesticates a few musk ox calf on his farm in Vermont. Ten years later he moves his animals to Fairbanks, Alaska. His idea is always compassionate caring for animals through gentle, low stress husbandry.
We learn that the musk ox goes back 2 million years and are often confused with the bison or the yak. During the last Ice Age (10-20,000 years ago) the musk oxen roamed the earth with woolly mammoths.
We learn that both males and females have horns like sheep and goats. They also shed and regrow their coat every year, a process that is spurred by on by the warmer and/or colder weather.
Finally, the process of socialization (getting used to people) is important for the musk oxen on the farm so they feel comfortable and safe.
We are anxious to get out and see the musk oxen in person. They are behind a fence. But we can get fairly close to them.
They are magnificent creatures. I try to imagine their existence even 10,000 years ago. It is truly a look back into time itself. I want more than anything to get on the other side of the fence. I want to get closer.
I glance down at Theo. He is here by special permission, a solemnagreement that states Theo must stay on our side of the fence.
I see him mosing around, closer and closer to the barrier that separates him the musk oxen and his chance to sniff. I fear he'll find a way to break through, which would not be a good thing.
"Don't even think about it. Remember you promised."
Sometimes Theo seems to have a hearing problem. Can he hear me? Do cats enter into their own world where they block out everything else in the pursuit of a single goal? Chase a squirrel or bird. Sniff a bug crawling on the floor. Slip into a closet where there's a giant bag of snacks.
"Maybe you should pick him up just to be sure," I say to Dan.
"He's fine."
"I'm afraid . . ."
"Theo can see how big they are. He's not going anywhere."
But then everything changes. We go to a separate part of the farm, still fenced in, where most of the baby musk ox are. There's something about seeing a miniature version of the musk ox, how small and cute they are. How cuddly they must be if you could pick them up. Theo seems to be thinking the same thing.
Suddenly, a baby musk ox wanders up to the fence.
He's as curious as we are. I turn to see where Theo is. He's at my feet, his nose already in between the openings of the fence, sniffing, sniffing. By gosh, he begins to sniff the baby musk ox. No fear. And the baby seems perfectly content to sit there and be sniffed!
I feel guilty. Right above the musk ox's head is a sign--Do Not Put Hands Through Fence. Technically, Theo is keeping his paws on his side of the fence, but that sniffing nose . . .
It's over even before it's begun. Theo is safe, but in that short amount of time, he's made a friend. They both stare at each other. Close encounters. How wonderful!
