Moose have always intrigued me. Legs far too long. A face that incites giggles. Rolling eyes which always seem bloodshot, encapsulated by an ever-moving ring of white. A dangly bit hanging from their neck. Antlers large enough to be a camp table. The ability to be absolutely invisible in a shadow. Moving silently through the brushy forest. Diving for pondweed. Rivulets of water pouring from their snout, ears, chin and antlers as a head rises from the marsh.
Sitting in my gravel pit campsite something caught my attention. A noise. A scratching noise. Looking in the direction of the distraction I found a moose standing in the patch of fireweed, sprigs of brightly coloured flowers jutting from both sides of her face, slowly being vacuumed through her mouth. Another step, another mouthful. A willow shrub in the way. Not browsing on branches, she turned her head, reached low and a lone willow sprig popped into her mouth. Her lips clasped the sprig. With a sweeping motion she stripped the sprig clean of leaves. Mouth agape she reached down, captured another small branch, repeating the motion.
After making a few skeleton arms on the bush she stepped back into the fireweed gobbling mouths full of blossoms. Walking out of the fireweed, my pastoral scene; my moose transformed from a well proportioned animal grazing in a patch of tall flowers into a behemoth creature striding through the open, rocky meadow – its normal and naturally, ungainly beast. I was surprised how fast it crossed the rocks. Then it stepped into the open spruce forest. I stared into the forest trying to catch one last glimpse of the moose. She was gone, vanished into the shadows, blending with the trees’ trunks, matching the black lichens hanging from the lowest branches.
A few nights ago I had a dream. I was sitting at the edge of a lush meadow. Small, clear streams of water intersected the patches of meadow grass and wildflowers. A glacier hung from the ridge above. It was one of those dreams I wished would never end. As I gazed into the picture there was an object in the distance. Checking it more closely I discovered a moose, then another moose. Before long I counted nineteen moose in my meadow. They were oblivious to my presence and wandered near where I sat. I have always wanted to be close to a moose yet at the same time have a healthy respect for the unwieldly beast – a beast I have watched chase off a grizzly bear coming to close to her newborn calf.
What was that? I sat bolt upright. A noise in the bush. Nothing. My mind was racing. I was sure I’d heard something. I settled back, pulling my sleeping bag up around my nose and lay my head back on my royal coloured, satin pillowcase. My body was still on alert. Again I heard a screech, snorting and felt shuttering ground around me. Again I leapt to attention wishing I had brought my nighttime companion to bed with me – bear spray. It was too late. I slid the zipper around its track and stuck my head out. Somewhere in the northern twilight was a monster. With little success my eyes tried to part the alder shrub surrounding my campsite. The noise grew louder – closer.
Still nothing.
“Will my tent be much good against this monster.”
Heavy breathing.
I knew it was close.
A noise near my feet.
I froze, eyes fixed on the bush.
What was there?
A immense shadow crossed by just eighteen inches away. I followed a towering spire upwards towards a dark belly and massive snout. She paused, looked down over her shoulder.
I could see a thought . . .
Her flanks were heaving. Her breath came in quick, loud gasps. She was gone, into the bush.
A moose had visited
I tried to relax, lull myself back to sleep. Then another noise, this time thudding and breaking branches. Again I stared into the grey light of the north. A gray wisp passed in front of me, tail straight back. There was no pause. It too vanished towards the next campsite.
More normal nighttime distractions returned, a leaf bouncing off the nylon of the tent, the scurrying of a vole through the leaf litter, the rummaging of an ermine, the muted crunch of a snowshoe hare.
It was 1:48.
