ALONG THE WAY

A Wildlife Parade and Monsoon Fireworks Bring Independence Day to a Mountain Meadow

We left behind the parades and the fireworks of the Fourth of July for a quiet day of fishing in central Arizona's White Mountains. As we fished, we followed the East Fork of the Black River into a deep, cliff-bound canyon. When my husband, Slim, decided to try his luck farther downstream, I stayed behind with our dog, Butch.

Bored with fishing, I walked back to my daypack, which I had left under a ponderosa in the middle of an open meadow. As I sat with my back against the tree and admired the beautiful canyon, Butch stretched out beside me with a moan of contentment. The clear, cold tumbling water made a delightful sound as it washed over the boulders, and the air had the fresh sweet scent of pines. Paradise!

"How fortunate we are," I thought, "to be celebrating our country's Independence Day in such a wild and lovely place." Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement. A hundred yards down the canyon, two animals were grazing. "Deer? No, too small," I thought. I saw a white rump patch. "Pronghorn antelope?" That didn't seem likely. One of the animals raised its head, and I saw a profile of big curved horns. "Bighorn sheep!"

As I watched, several more appeared. Then more. Slim and I had seen wild sheep before, but they were wary of humans and always stayed high above us on the cliffs of the canyon.

I grabbed Butch and made him lie down, hoping he would remain quiet and motionless. Together we watched spellbound as the grazing herd slowly moved toward us. As the animals drew nearer, I was able to distinguish the horns of the ewes from the much largerNow they were standing and staring at us. "This is it," I thought. "They'll run." But instead of bolting away, the leading ewe stepped forward. Her fawn-colored coat sleek and shining in the sun, she moved with a combination of boldness and elegance. In honor of the day, I dubbed her "Liberty." I held my breath as she approached, one cautious step at a time, with the rest of the herd trailing behind her. At a distance of 30 yards, she stopped and stared at us. We stared back. Liberty shook her head and stamped her front feet, as if challenging us.This was all too exciting for Butch, and with a yelp he tried to break free. To his dismay, I gripped his collar and yanked him down. Chagrined, he rolled on his back, exposing the white hair on his belly, and waved his legs in the air.

The sheep inched forward, craning their necks for a better view, obviously fascinated by the spectacle. Then, to my surprise, Liberty lay down, and the others soon followed her example. Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at us expectantly, as if waiting for further entertainment. Afraid that any movement might frighten them, I remained still. A breeze riffled through the grasses as two yellow butterflies sailed among the wild irises and golden asters that dotted the meadow. Butch wagged his tail and whined. The minutes ticked by as we enjoyed the serenity of the canyon with our wild visitors.

Casually Liberty stood, and again the herd followed suit. She seemed to have decided that we were not a threat, and I had the unsettling feeling that we had disappointed her in the entertainment department. Step by cautious step, she walked by us. One by one, the rest of the herd filed past. The younger animals frolicked at the end of the parade, like a group of carefree children.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky darkened. The Arizona monsoon was right on schedule with its Fourth of July fireworks. Taking out my poncho and my lunch, I settled down to eat and wait for Slim.

After he arrived, we hiked upcanyon as the bighorns, with Liberty in the lead, cut across the trail behind us and forded the river. We saw another group of sheep on the other side, and the two herds appeared to rendezvous. As we watched Liberty's band bound gracefully up the granite cliff face on the opposite bank, we heard a clattering from above. Four small lambs bounced down through the rocks to greet their mothers. Standing in the rain, we watched the joyful reunions.

Because of the distance I couldn't tell, but I wondered if one of the mothers was Liberty. I thought about what an unexpected gift it was to have shared some moments with these magnificent wild creatures. And then I realized that I had witnessed a most unusual Fourth of July parade and fireworks after all.