(I don't actually believe this, but let's see....)
In my past life, I was a moose around the time that America was first being established. When the first settlers moved into Maine and began to "set up shoppe" so to speak, I came across a rather interesting human. He tried to feed me, but I panicked and mauled him and the settlement's leader shot me on sight. I fed the entire village for several days.
I did not come back until several hundred years later as a human from the very same bloodline as the settlement's leader who shot me. I do not know why fate deemed me to re-enter life in this manner, but who am I to complain? Remnants of my moose past are still with me to this day. I am one with nature, and I speak the Green Word.
(Wow, that actually turned out more accurate than I thought it would...hmm.)