Mrs. G.W. Leak in Our Garden

Six o’clock in the morning on this twenty-sixth of April.  The sun is just peeking over the horizon.  The tide is beginning to recede.  Nyel and I, still abed, are propped up and sipping coffee. No hurry.  It’s Sunday and, anyway, we’re sheltering.

Elk Herd in Oysterville, c. 2015

And then the show begins!  Through the window just beyond the foot of the bed, we can see movement out on the shoreline.  Elk!  Several of them.  No — at least a dozen!  Eating something.  What? we wonder…

Our Old Pear Tree

But before we can speculate, more Elk People coming from the south — maybe from Dobby’s.  There’s a herd that hangs out there now and then.  Just last week or so he told me they’d been there for a few days.  “Do they bother your garden?” I asked.  “No, never.  They have other plenty of food around here.  And, it’s fenced — though that wouldn’t faze them if they decided to check it out.”

We watch them for a long time.  They are huge — some huger (is that a word?) than others.  As we watch, I wonder what Mrs. G.W. Leak and the Jean Maries and Bosque Pear think.  They, especially Bosque, have a better, closer view than we do. Do they envy the elks’ mobility?  Do they feel at all vulnerable?

Jean Maries Beginning to Blush

And then… one by one… Elk People on the move again.  We count fifteen.  Walking north unhurried.  We think about getting up.  It’s 6:45.

But wait!  Here they come again.  Running hell bent for election.  Fifteen, eighteen, twenty six — at least thirty!  Back to Dobby’s?  What’s the hurry?  The Jean Maries are all a-blush with garden secrets at this time of year.  Maybe they know.