Many years ago I was off-trail hiking this area in the Olympics. Near vertical drop on one side thru a thin wall of brush. Thick brush on the other side of the well-used goat trail. Occasionally it was hands and knees scrambling and every once in a while the route broke out into fantastic vistas. And then it happened - I squat-walked around a tight corner of the path and a broad shoulder, old Billy was facing off against me, horns down, snorting and pawing dirt. I nearly took flight back but there was no way I could outrun this guy if he wanted me. I dropped into a cross-legged, seated position, kinda' folded up and avoided eye contact. Sat totally still except for the pounding in my chest. Finally he backed off. My view of it - had he picked my dumb arse up and tossed me over the edge of that ridge it would have been my fault for bumbling along on his turf.
"As an adolescent I aspired to lasting fame, I craved factual certainty, and I thirsted for a meaningful vision of human life - so I became a scientist. This is like becoming an archbishop so you can meet girls."