Saturday, September 20, 2008

If the Moose Charges We Stick Together

When my three-year-old niece saw a moose her daddy grabbed her and sprinted to safety. When I saw a moose on my hike I inched my way into spitting distance. Seems incredibly close but ask my cross-country team, I spit a lengthy distance.

The Eagle Scout guided me along the trail to Lake Catherine. At least I think that’s where we hiked, but I also have a vivid and unverified memory of reaching that clearing as a child. As we stood on the ridge looking at the small lake below Eric (the Eagle Scout) told me our destination was not the small lake before us but the two lakes a mile further. Once we made it to the other two lakes I faintly recalled eating a peanut butter sandwich on large rock that jets out into one lake.

Gazing at the lake textured by wind I imagined jumping in. I also imagined gasping as the cold temperature shocked my system but soothed my aching feet. Noting the rocky ledge I would undoubtedly hit before I made the water I instead turned to sit down and dislodge a few pebbles. There in the damp dirt I saw one hoof print then another. Perfectly normal in a nature setting and I’m no hunter so I appreciated the moment and continued about my way.

Lost in reverie and dulled by the pain of blistered feet (the easy hike had been both for natural beauty and a trial run of an inherited pair of chacos) I attempted to retrace our steps and instead tracked a moose. Right in front of me a female of the animal lay in the tall grass. I felt my eyes widen and my fingers stretch up in anticipation. The beautiful cow looked just like a horse. My mind raced through a series of bad ideas that would allow me to run my fingers down the length of its broad nose. Impulsively I stepped forward. Immediately the Eagle Scout spoke reason reminding me that moose charge and I looked like a good target. I tentatively took one more step when we heard a noise. Another moose.

I stopped and listened. Over the loud pounding of my heart I heard a low moaning sound. Further inspection led me to determine that a fallen tree leaning against its neighbor caused the boughs to creak. As I turned to explain my theory I spotted our second moose—a calf hidden by the brush. I calculated the added risk but gazed at the creature. Sensing my fascination Eric suggested we circle back and find a safer viewing point. Didn’t work and minutes later we crept back for one last peak.
Only this time the Eagle Scout went in for a closer look. He stood under the falling tree, a place I deemed sketchy, and watched the calf. I stood rooted watching the mother with excitement and unease. A sudden snap spooked me and the cow. She rose. I ran. Eric followed.

Back on the trail Eric looked at me with wonder. Wonder at why I didn’t think to tell him that the moose was headed his way. I looked at him with wonder. As an eagle scout and the previous voice of caution shouldn’t he have been watching his attacker? Besides I didn’t want to cause a scene…

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I appreciate that I finally made the blog. This must be how Custer felt when he made the history books. I think I come across as wondering why you didn't protect me. I'm not sure the full impact of your everywoman for herself all out flee of terror, meet you back at the car, full body gallop without a thought of what's his name that gave me a ride here... retreat is given the proper attention. But to emphasize I really appreciate making the blog.