It almost makes me think it’s a habit, but what are the chances? They are rare in this region, so much so that it is forbidden to hunt them. Most of the inhabitants have never seen them, even after decades of hiking in these mountains. It is the largest of our land mammals and the Norwegians call it “Skogkongen”, the king of the forest. But as big as it is, it knows how to be discreet like no other in its slow, broad and measured movements, one would almost like to speak of gentleness.
The same gentleness with which this female Elk turns her head in my direction this evening, in this twilight that stretches interminably at this time of year. Between us, a long ochre peat bog full of water, spongy, enclosed between two long rocky hills. In its middle a few scattered birch trees and a few pines on its edges. The moor-grass lying on the ground crackle with each of my steps under the effect of the frost. Is that what makes her look at me now? I hadn’t seen her move. It was while scanning the landscape with my binoculars that I came across her, in a gap, unexpectedly. She remains motionless and her young, right in front of her, seems to imitate her.
It would almost make me think of a habit, but still, what are the chances? Three times that we meet in three years. Each time this female and her young of the year. “This” female? In fact, I don’t really know, but our first reunion was a year after the first observation, almost to the day and to the meter. She, on the same slope, near the same rock, taking the same direction with her young following her. Me opposite, with the same point of view, leaning against the same pine. I still wonder sometimes if I didn’t dream it, the coincidence was so great. And today, here she is, barely two hundred meters away for “the spot”, with a youngster again, a few weeks later than the “usual” date.
As these thoughts invite themselves into my head, my hand holds the pencil against the paper and follows the movements of my gaze. I am a little rusty but the sensations return quickly. First the female who I know will end up continuing on her way. She does not seem worried but she has noticed my presence and will slowly move away. So I go quickly, the landscape will wait. The soft light highlights the side of her head. Her endless legs disappear into the blur of the foreground. Of the youngster, only the head is hidden. I hope that he will turn around but for the third time, I cannot draw his portrait.
Without warning, the female takes a few slow steps, disappears behind an old pine tree, its roots bathed in dark water. I will not follow them. I will let them peacefully move away in the hope of finding them there later this winter. I prefer to linger on drawing the landscape that surrounded them, in this absolute silence and the night that gently envelops me.
And otherwise, see you in a year.
Adrien
