A yearling moose and recalling a deja vu moment

It was a déjà vu moment out the kitchen window yesterday. A yearling moose calf munching young crab apple branches along the drive. A common sight during our fourteen years in Alaska. Not so much on the outskirts of Priest River.

My brain registered moose — like something normal — but it took a second for my mind to declare, “No, this is not normal! I am not in Alaska.” Naturally I shot outside for a closer look — but the cow who was farther back didn’t like this stranger easing her way toward her calf and headed my direction. Not threatening exactly — but enough to let me know she was a mother on guard.

You don’t live in the The Last Frontier state without learning not to mess with a moose. I’ve told these stories before — because they’re not ones you hear every day. Once I had a cow with her calf right beneath our balcony deck snorting at me. Let’s just say I hope to never meet a snorting moose on the ground.

I nearly encountered trouble one time riding my bicycle over in Hope, Alaska. Somehow I glanced up mid-pedal to see a cow with her newborn just a few yards away. I was able to turn around, and later learned she’d charged a pick-up truck in that same spot the day before.

Probably the best moose story is the night in the car I pointed out one ahead standing in the middle of the road. My husband who was driving thought, “Look, there’s a moose!” meant the one he’d seen along the edge of the highway. He’d recently made a dig about my “backseat driving” so I sat there and said nothing more as we barreled toward the massive creature.

Because he was still distracted by the other moose he drifted over the center line just as we reached the one in the road. The entire passenger side windows filled up with moose hide inches away. Terry yelped, “Did you see that moose!”

Well, yes. Yes, I did.

I was saved from my own foolishness — or stubbornness — on that one. Hitting a moose is serious business. I’d much rather enjoy them enjoying their lives in nature. And that’s just what I got a rare opportunity to do yesterday.

Until I blabbed to our friend and owner of the property where we multi-family live. When he heard that calf was out there sampling his prize crab trees he moved fast for a guy about to turn 79. Fired some shots from his hand gun to scare them off.

Those moose weren’t too shook up. But they did move on. Till next time — I hope. If they show their homely mugs around here again I’m not saying a word.

(Sequel: Woke this morning to the cow bedded down under the bull pines. She stood and stretched about the same time I did — then astutely stepped out of sight. If anyone asks, I saw nothing.)