Bugles

A herd of elk welcomed us to our cabin, grouped in the side yard as we drove up in the rain, one bull with eight or ten females. They weren't particularly alarmed by our presence but after it became clear we would be staying a while, they drifted down to the meadow across the road. And as it was autumn and time for rut, the bull began to bugle.

You might think an animal the size of a bull elk would bellow or roar, but the bugling of the bull elk is high pitched. It doesn't sound at all like a bugle, but more like a left-handed flute being played by a right-handed musician with uncertain breath control.

Still, the sound told us that we were exactly where we wanted to be. At 9000 feet in the Mescalero Mountains, a short distance from the reservation of the Mescalero Apache, and a few miles in the other direction from the charming little town of Cloudcroft. (It sounds like a place where hobbits might live.)

The trip to Cloudcroft was planned for early August, but circumstances forced us to postpone to the end of September. Kathy and I were joined by our delightful friend Louy, who joined us in hauling our luggage and supplies up a narrow steep rocky path to the door of our spacious mountain cabin (courtesy of AirBnB). I wasn't at my most useful, since I'm not yet recovered from knee surgery and staggering up a steep uneven path with a cane in one hand and a heavy duffel in the other is a very good recipe for launching me headfirst down the path. Still, I could haul bags perfectly well once I achieved a stable position.

After moving in we collapsed on the available furniture and tried to catch our breath while rain hammered on the roof. We weren't used to the altitude and the recovery took a while.

After which we commenced several days of Nothing Much. Nothing Much was what I wanted after a busy and stressful spring and summer, and I luxuriated in it like a cat luxuriating on a warm cushion.

As I sat out on the porch and listened to the bull elks bugling up and down the valley, I realized how much I missed nature. I'd lived for thirty years in the country, with nature all around, and now I was living in an apartment building in the city--- one with every convenience and with spectacular views, but with no forests, no pastures, and no herds of elk.

We cooked fine meals and drank excellent wine. There were board games and music and fine company. The was no cellphone service and the wifi was a bit sketchy, so nothing interrupted us. I caught up on at least some of my sleep.

There's not a lot to report beyond the elks, the meals, and nature. It was a trip intended to do nothing but gather peace, and it succeeded.

I'm back in the apartment now, but the bugling elks still echo in my head.