slowing down for a bear crossing | shenandoah np

On Saturday morning of Zan's and my overnight camping trip in Shenandoah National Park, a black bear lazily crossed in front of our car, pausing to turn and look right at us, before climbing over the guard to the other side of the woods. In the 10 seconds that it happened, I sat in total shock and awe, taking in his narrow face and smaller-than-I-expected paws and the way he somehow lumbered both awkwardly and gracefully on all fours. I frantically unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed through the sun roof and fumbled with my camera, trying, hoping to capture this incredible moment and elusive, downright beautiful animal.

I didn't succeed very well in getting his picture, but he still lit up my day. I felt the same way on an overland safari in South Africa, day after day, coming so close to a lion, elephants and rhinos, magnificent animals so distant from our human existences, or mine at least, that the sight of one in the wild makes life feel expand and contract like the whole world is suddenly bigger and more intimate at once. There's something about seeing a wild animal in its natural habitat, whether it be a scary one like a bear can be or gentle as a giraffe, that makes me feel electric with life and as excitable as a dreamer and a child, connected to the world and nature in a way from which concrete and man-made isolates me.