Antelope Sighting

I'm plagued by a sense of falling behind these days. I'm not sure if I'm scraping the bottom of my spirit or if the financial situation is grinding me down, but I get tired a lot. I've started walking with Shelby and Jake first thing in the morning to recharge my brain cells and get my sleepy blood moving.

I started taking these sunrise walks because Mount Blanca, the Wild Horse Mesa, the Dome, the Scrat Hills and the other beloved landmarks around here remind me why I'm doing this. They motivate me to keep writing, even when I'm struggling to put words together.

I love the dirt roads that have grown over with prickly pair and rabbit brush, and the old, faded sheep trails and irrigation ditches that traverse the land like tired veins. I love the way the high desert constantly, tirelessly restores its own sparse vegetation. I love living in a dirt-poor county that's criss-crossed by roads that go nowhere. I love the treasures that I find in the chunks of quartz and agate, and I love walking past the underground homes of rabbits, snakes and fire ants.

This morning as I trudged along, with Jake and Shelby off on some dog adventure, I couldn't stop thinking about money. I'm still trying to catch up with my bills, worrying about taxes, fretting about the future. I slumped over as I walked, watching my feet pick their way over the clumps of cactus.

I felt drained. I felt worried. And guilty about being out walking on a clear March morning, instead of sitting at my desk earning money at 7:30 a.m.

Then Shelby dashed by me at lightning speed, her short Blue Heeler legs churning up dirt. I looked up to see what she was chasing. Four antelope sailed across the landscape.

I haven't seen an antelope since Election Day, when a herd of the delicate beauties materialized as we were on our way to vote.

I have to imagine that an antelope sighting is a good omen. I believe in animal omens. I do think that birds and mammals offer portents. Whether or not this sighting has any significance, the antelope made my worries dissolve, at least for that moment.

When I got home, I looked up the meaning of antelope in Ted Andrews' reference book on animal totems, which I consult whenever I see a creature that seems significant:

The pronghorn feeds on shrubs and sagebrush. It can actually go for months or even a lifetime without drinking water. It has the ability to get water from the plants that it eats. This reflects that the pronghorn can teach you how to replenish yourself in whatever environment you live.

Animal-Speak, Llewellyn Publications, St. Paul, MN, 1998

I am fairly sure the antelope were running toward the wildlife refuge or the river. You can always find water in Blanca Flats, even though it looks so parched and desolate at certain times of the year. In the Valley, there's always water under the surface.

I keep telling myself that some things are more important than worrying, like walking, and writing for myself, and seeing antelope.