The Skunk in the Canyon
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For the audio version of this article, read by the author, go here.
I recently had an almost perfect morning — at least until I ran into a skunk.
But it wasn’t this kind of skunk:
While Brent was visiting a friend in Oregon, I headed off to Colorado to visit family and friends, including Max and Joanne, who live in a house nestled up against the Flatirons in Boulder. The Flatirons are five triangular rock formations that jut up out of the ground at a sharp angle.
The Flatirons are also home to some great hikes. So one morning while poor Max and Joanne toiled away at their remote jobs, I went off by myself.
I chose a hike in something called Skunk Canyon. Setting out, I hoped the name was just a name, and not because the canyon overflowed with, you know, actual skunks.
I grew up in Colorado, and I knew from personal experience that Colorado is normally very dry this deep into summer. I was expecting a color scheme of drab brown.
But this year, there had been a ton of rain, and everything was surprisingly lush and a different shade of green.
As I hiked higher up into the Flatirons via Skunk Canyon, the landscape changed, the brush-filled gully giving way to pine trees baking in the hot sun.
Man, nothing takes me back to my childhood like a hot afternoon spiced with the scent of pine sap.
Before arriving in Boulder, I’d spent almost the entire previous month socializing with friends and family — which was great — but I was now definitely enjoying a few hours alone with my own thoughts.
Which was why, when three young women appeared on the trail in front of me, I planned to merely nod and hurry past them on the trail.
But one of them motioned me over, pointing into the gully below. “Look!” she said to me, excitedly. “It’s a mamma bear and her two cubs.”
“Really?” I was suddenly glad they’d stopped me. I’d seen a few bears in the wild, but never a mother with cubs.
And, well, if there were bears in these woods, I wanted to know where they were.
My eyes searched the thick brush below.
And then I saw them! A large black bear ambled out of some shrubs, her muscular shoulders swinging back and forth like she had nothing to fear.
Which, to be fair, she mostly didn’t.
Behind her, two cubs scampered out behind their mother. They were little black balls of energy, sniffing every plant, stopping now and then to paw at the ground. Their curious gazes darted every which way.
“That’s so cool!” I said, unable to hide my enthusiasm. As a native Coloradoan, I probably should have been more, “Oh, yeah, a bear. Nice. Pass me another Coors.”
But I was genuinely pleased to glimpse such beautiful creatures in such a gorgeous setting.
The four of us watched until the three bears vanished into the thick brush. Then we all smiled at each other, as I said, “I’m glad you guys have such sharp eyes! Thanks for sharing that.”
Finally, we headed off in opposite directions.
What a day! I was surrounded by blue skies and cool air; pungent pine trees and rustling grass; purple-headed thistles, sunflowers, and lupine; and especially the peaceful solitude, which was exactly what I’d been craving.
And now bears in full view! From a safe, very comfortable distance, no less.
With that added frisson of excitement, I realized I felt perfectly happy. Life didn’t get much better than this.
Then, from ahead of me in the trees, a loud, grating voice echoed out at me.
“I can’t believe he actually said that! Sheeple! That’s what they are. They’re all brainwashed, you know. Well, George Soros controls the media, so what do you expect?”
It was a woman talking on her phone. And it’s not so much what she was saying as the fact that she was saying it at all — on her phone, loudly, so everyone else on the trail had no choice but listen in.
There was a skunk in the canyon after all, just not the kind I’d been expecting.
Worse, the trail zig-zagged in switch-backs. Which meant her voice followed me up the hillside, and I had to hear every word of her conversation for the next twenty minutes, even long after she was out of sight.
Maybe the bear will get her, I thought, before immediately taking back such an uncharitable idea.
Well, mostly taking it back.
Oh, well, I thought. Perfect moments can’t last forever. That’s why they’re “moments.” And that’s maybe also why they’re so special.
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Michael Jensen is a novelist and editor. For more about Michael, visit him at MichaelJensen.com.
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