Last night my husband and I took a walk at one of our usual places, Lake Estes. The photo above is from Sprague Lake, but when I tell my story, you'll see why I chose it.
We were on the north side of the lake, with the golf course to the north of us. On the golf course was a mixed herd of elk, including a bull, several cows, and some frisky babies, born last May.
All of a sudden I heard a pitiful and frantic mewing from across the lake. I couldn't see anything over there but some people. I thought it might have been a child, but it didn't sound quite like a child crying.
Then I saw it - one of the baby elk, anxiously pacing along the far shore, crying constantly for help. Somehow, he must have missed crossing with the rest of the clan. My heart broke for him. He was obviously missing his momma and friends and was desperately trying to get their attention.
Then he just had to do it - he plunged into the lake and made his way across. Fortunately the water is not too deep, but in the center he had to swim. Brave little guy, he made it across, only to have to cross the rain-swollen Big Thompson. And he made it across that too!
He found his momma very quickly on the golf course and although she seemed not to welcome it, she did let him nurse a bit. His little herdmates scampered over to greet him. I was so happy that all ended well.
It made me think about what we long for, especially related to our artistic expression. What inside you is crying for attention? To what lengths are you willing to go to give it voice? Will you be brave enough to take the plunge? I know I have been inspired by a baby elk and will remember him next time I'm ready to start a project.