Tale of the Moose

Tale of the Moose

The tale I am about to tell is true. The names and places have been changed to protect the guilty. Although the event happened years ago, the lessons learned are relevant today.  I share the story as it actually happened.

It was a cold autumn morning. Two men went out to cut firewood for their winter supply. Through a curtain of fog and snow, out of a stand of lodge pole pines into the clearing wandered an animal. At a distance it was difficult to distinguish if it was a cow or a moose. Grabbing the binoculars confirmed that it was a bull moose with a large rack.

Having brought rifles just in case, a decision had to be made. Without a moose hunting tag, was this majestic critter going to be spared its life or was the opportunity to bag a moose to great to pass up? As the moose meandered across the meadow, it was a now or never decision. Grabbing rifles, leaning across the hood of the truck, spotting horns through the scope, triggers were pulled and lead flew.

Shooting at that distance and in those conditions, made it difficult to see. Rifle fire shattered the winter silence; the moose stumbled and then broke into a run. It had been hit but how bad? Disappearing into the fog and silence again descending upon the meadow, the reality of that quick decision hit home. What now?

Stowing the rifles and quickly gathering the chain saws, it was time to find out what happened to the moose. Driving across the meadow, looking for signs, all that was found was small pools of blood on the snow. That trail of red led to a holding pond. There, floating in the middle of the pond was the dead moose!

Sorry to leave you in suspense but I must continue the Tale of the Moose in next week's blog. Stay tuned.