What's for dinner?

Imagine the sound of a big dog enjoying a bone. Bite a carrot and hear the crunch.

Peg and I kayaked up Abrams Creek into the western tip of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I’ve been to this place twice before to experience freedom from strip malls and asphalt. We were about to disembark when I heard a chomping noise over the sound of birds and tumbling water. I hushed Peg’s recitation about the many shades of green. Then she heard it, too, just behind the curtain of brush lining the creek not 15 yards away. The sound of strong jawbones munching is unmistakable. The creek narrows where the water enters the finger-like embayment and becomes like a cone-shaped megaphone.

The list of park carnivores is short…bear, boar, wolf and the occasional bobcat. Jurassic park came to mind. A touch of anxiety brewed. There is no human dining within miles. As we awkwardly paddled backwards in rocky water less than 1 foot deep I thought, “Am I out of my food chain?”--James