THE BACKDOOR TO HEAVEN
Late one August, my spouse and I spent a few days at the National Bison Range about fifty miles from Missoula, Montana. Although there are a few hiking trails within the refuge, a nineteen-mile self-guided auto tour remains the primary means of accessing the refuge and visitors to the refuge are not permitted to leave the roadway or designated trails. One day we entered the refuge as soon as the gates opened, so we were the first car to travel the loop that morning. Hoping to get an overview of what was happening throughout the refuge at that hour, we decided to travel the entire loop without stopping unless we came upon a special photo opportunity. Refuge personnel had told us that some bears had been feeding on berries just a few miles from the start of the loop road, and we hoped that our early arrival might allow us to see a bear. Within the first several miles, we saw numerous birds, chipmunks, mule deer, and even some bull elk, but no bear; we pressed on.
The road climbs to about 4700 feet before returning to Mission Creek in the valley below. As we began our descent, we could see the road out ahead of us hugging the ends of the ridges. In the distance, I noticed the form of a bighorn sheep against the skyline just above the last visible curve in the road. We pulled over to view the sheep through binoculars. We had glassed some sheep the previous afternoon, but none were close enough to the road to photograph. This ram, however, appeared to be just off the road. As I studied the ram through the glasses, it looked as if he were alone and feeding up the end of the ridge. At first, I thought it was likely that the ram would feed out of sight before we reached him. Then to my amazement, I saw his legs buckle as he bedded just above the road.
I think my heart rate increased a bit as we headed toward the ram and I said out loud "Please God, let him stay." As we rounded the final curve, we discovered him bedded just fifteen yards from the road. I drove on past his location to a wider portion of the road where I could park. I set up my tripod right next to the vehicle and mounted my longest lens. During the next half-hour my camera devoured several rolls of film, and I marveled at the beautiful details of the ram that were visible through the long lens. Eventually, the ram came to his feet again, continued feeding up the ridge, and disappeared from view.
Afterwards, we sat for a moment and recounted our good fortune in encountering the lone ram so near the road. My wife, Susan, found it amusing that I invoked a higher power when I urged the ram to stay in his morning bed, despite the fact that I have not darkened the door of a church for quite some time. Although I had been very active in my local church when I was growing up, most Sunday mornings during the last decade have more often been spent behind the lens than in a church pew. In fact, for years now I have been telling Susan that I believe heaven has a back door and that it is somewhere in the wilderness.
The lone ram had looked especially regal in the soft early light. There was an aged and weathered look about his face and horns, and it appeared that he was watching the valley below him come to life that morning as he must have done many times before. Susan suggested that perhaps it was God come down in the form of a wise old bighorn to watch the sun rise over the National Bison Range. Now I can't prove that the divine occasionally chooses to view the world through the eyes of an old bighorn, or that heaven has a back door, but I would not be surprised if God does such things, nor would I be surprised to discover that the back door to heaven is somewhere in Montana.
