More Is Never Enough truck’s headlights undressing the bushes and trees from their cover
of darkness, our guide talked of rare sightings of leopards stealthily
moving about. Over dinner, he shared more stories of close encount-
ers. While listening, it was hard not to wonder what life was like
without modern-day protections like guns, secure lodging, fences, and
locks.
After dinner, as we walked from the lodge along the lighted path to
our cabins, I looked up at the stars shining in full splendor. Living in
central Michigan with its typically overcast skies, I had forgotten how
beautiful stars could be. The desert’s clear night sky and new moon
immediately took hold of me and didn’t let go.
Bidding Pablo goodnight, I stopped long enough at my cabin to
grab a jacket and flashlight. To take full advantage of this opportunity,
I walked along a worn trail away from the lodge and into the darkness.
A night of solitude was indulging my fascination with celestial planets.
As the lights from the lodge dimmed and the cool desert sky fell over
me, I was swept up by stars seemingly close enough that I could reach
out and touch them.
Looking skyward to the spectacular view, I noticed my breathing
was shallower. I was alone, no one knew I was here, yet I did not feel
alone. While unafraid of the dark, I felt apprehension take hold. I
rationalized that this was simply an overreaction to an afternoon of
watching wild animals and hearing the associated stories. Encountering
an enchanted evening like this was rare. I turned off my flashlight
and tried to focus on the night sky, searching for the Southern Cross,
observing an occasional shooting star, and making up constellations of
Greek gods, warriors, and chariots of my own choosing.
Though I wanted to soak up the galaxies, I was interrupted by a
faint rustling of bushes in the distance. The “rule” for confronting
creatures in the night—green eyes are herbivores while red eyes are
carnivores—played with my mind. I switched on my flashlight and
pointed it toward the noises, half hoping to see green eyes. Instead, I
saw nothing. Perhaps it was the wind, I said to myself, though I felt
no breeze on my face. The rustling came and went but the anxiety
remained.
Unable to will away the uneasiness, I gave in. This was an unfamiliar
environment. What I sensed existed for a reason. Being alone in the