Wildlife Sighting

My mom sent out an email to us kids the other day with the subject line: WILDLIFE SIGHTING. Being in all caps I was hoping a bear or cougar or herd of bison loped through my parents’ yard. I could imagine my mom raking leaves out in the front yard when suddenly, 32 bison crash through the fence and stampede through the woods, snorting a “what are you looking at” to my slack-jawed mother, rake in hand, as they thunder by. Unfortunately for my imagination, but fortunately for the fence, the wildlife sighting wasn’t quite so dramatic. It was a coyote slinking away after a kill. I responded with my own not-so-wildlife sighting: sheep. Now I like sheep, but they are not the most exotic animal. And in Britain, they’re even less exotic than they are in the States, if you can imagine that. At least in the States sheep provide a pleasant change of pace from the ubiquitous cow. When my mother was over here, “sheep dotting the hillsides” became a favorite phrase of hers; Britain isn’t so much dotted with sheep as it is slathered with them.

If anywhere in Britain can be said to be dotted with sheep, it’s the Lake District. Last week I returned to this stunning location and did my best to make the most of it. With an entire day before me, I set off from the hostel and made for the burly ridge rising to the west. As I trekked up the hillside through the pastures and alongside trickling brooks, the village below became a distant thought. As I reached the top of the fell, I stepped into the cool silence of a cloud. All around me was faded green and autumn rust, obscured by a blanket of mist. As I walked, the dull hum of the traffic in the valley far below became secondary to the crunch of sheep plucking tufts of grass from the sodden ground. The clouds danced over the fells and revealed rugged peaks in every direction. Looking down from this tranquility, I can see the world I’ve left behind and feel no rush to return.

I love being in the midst of things, but there’s something to be said about elevation. I find it easier to be bogged down by the drudgery of everyday life when it is all around me. By getting out of it, getting above it, I find peace, clarity, and perspective. Looking out from a mountain top lets you see the big picture; the entire forest becomes apparent and the individual trees disappear. Strolling along the rocky spine with the grazing sheep gave me a chance to reorganize, re-prioritize, re-energize, and simplify. By seeing the big picture unfolded before me, I could rest easy in the present moment, secure in the knowledge that life in the valleys went on, and could go on, without me.

Unfortunately, these “mountain-top moments” can’t last, nor should they. However, what is gained on the mountain should be brought to the valleys. The perspective gained from a bird’s-eye view will help you navigate on the ground; the law given on Sinai has no effect unless Moses brings it to the desert floor. Nevertheless, the mountain is important. Without it, we become blinded by our immediate surroundings, failing to see beyond our selves. Elevation broadens our horizons, balances our perspective, and makes our lives dynamic.

As I begin my descent back to the “real world,” I wonder if the sheep around me have any idea how lucky they are. Looking behind me up towards a rocky spire I spot a sheep sitting regally above the world. They must know, I conclude, and continue down the mountain into the valley below.