TUK
Tuk was born in the snow and wind of early spring. He was the biggest lamb born on the lambing cliffs that season, and for seasons out of memory. Gradually, over the generations, bighorns had been getting smaller, but Tuk was a reminder of the herd's former days of greatness.
Soon after his birth Tuk stood on shaky legs. Before the day was out he could run and leap small leaps and keep up with his mother, Pamir, as she grazed on the sparse grasses of the rocky heights.
"Who are we?" he asked Pamir.
"We are the bighorn," she replied. "We live on the mountain's high places, above where most animals can live, above even where the trees can grow."
"Bighorn?" Tuk said. "But your horns are small."
"That is because I am a female," said Pamir. "But you are a male, and when you are grown, a ram, you will have big horns. You will use them only in sport, to prove you are strong enough to father the lambs."
Two other males, Ovis and Rim, were also born on the lambing cliffs that spring, as well as four females: Nai, Mouf, Sto, and Dall.
The nursery band ran and jumped and butted one another playfully. They ran faster each day, zig, zag, darting through the legs of their mothers, and from one end of the meadow to the other. Though Ovis was a good climber, Tuk was at least as good and sometimes could go even higher. They ran races, and though Rim often won, Tuk was almost as fast, and sometimes faster. Nai was graceful and could jump far, but Tuk could jump, too, and sometimes farther. Mouf asked many questions, and Tuk was the one who searched out the answers. Sto was quiet and timid and did not like to venture far from her mother, but sometimes Tuk could persuade her to play.
Dall was calm and steady. She was the one who decided they had explored a patch of grass enough, and when she sought out a new patch, they all followed. She would only wait for one, and that was Tuk.
After a few days, Pamir said to Tuk, "Tomorrow we return to the main herd. Before we go, I must teach you the most important thing about the bighorn. Listen, and I will tell you an old story."
When the mountain first created the deer, she said, "Consider my austere beauty. You may have it for your own." The deer said, "The mountain is too rocky and forbidding. We would rather have the lowlands and the brooks, and the woods to hide in, and antlers with which to fight our enemies." And so the mountain gave them their desire.
Then the mountain created the elk and said, "Ponder well my severe beauty. You may have it for your own." The elk said, "We do not want the mountain. It is too steep and cold and craggy. Give us the hills and the valleys and the rushing creeks, and give us bigger antlers even than the deer with which to fight our enemies." And so the mountain gave them their desire.
When the mountain made Lord Denu, the first of the bighorn, she said to him, "I am rocky and forbidding. I am steep and cold and craggy, but do I not have my own beauty? Will you be the one to have it?"
"Yes," Denu said, "we will, because from the top we can see the lowlands and the brooks and the woods. We can see the hills and the valleys and the rushing creeks. We can see the world."
The mountain was so pleased with Denu's answer that she gave him tricky feet so he could scale the steep places nimbly. She gave him strong jaws and bowels so he could eat the forage that grew out of the mountain. She gave him horns that were thicker and stronger and more powerful than the antlers of the deer and the elk together, but she called Denu the peaceable one.
"Peaceable?" Tuk asked.
"It meant we would survive because of our speed and agility on the heights, where predators cannot follow," Pamir explained. "We would thrive as a herd at peace with one another, and the bear and the puma and the wolf would see our great numbers and stay away. The mountain cannot be beautiful without us."
Text copyright © 2014 by Martine Leavitt