The sun bakes the car as my husband and I drive a road that leads to a visitor center at the Okefenokee Swamp. A sign on the side of the road announces the presence of black bears in the park.
A squeal sounds from my lips. I love wildlife! Even more, I love photographing wildlife. I am now determined to find a bear to photograph. From a safe distance, of course.
We stop at the visitor center, look at the displays, and pick up a map. Meanwhile, I’m bouncing up and down, ready to find my bear.
Back in the car, husband driving, me in the passenger seat, I glue my gaze to the scenery. Trees draped in Spanish moss rise out of water. Water lilies float among other vegetation. Not a single pair of alligator eyes peeps out of the murky water. Bummer.
As we drive along the road, I see a flash of black through the trees. This is it! This is my moment! With gusto and confidence, I point my finger and shout, “Bear!”
Silence fills the car. Cue a strange look from my husband.
Why isn’t he more excited?
A few more splashes of black lumber behind the tree trunks.
“Amy, that’s a cow.”
