Apr 18, 2006

I (now) brake for (suspected) moose

Another story from Easter vacation in Vermont ...

The area where I grew up is moose country: mountains, woods and bogs. "Moose Crossing" signs are common. However, living in Vermont for 23 years, I saw moose only a handful of times. They were memorable times, though.

One time, I was riding home with my Uncle Earl late at night past Belvidere Bog. He suddenly braked the car and calmly said, "There's the moose." And there it was, caught in the headlights, with legs long enough to step over the car—or so it seemed. It crossed the road in a flash, but without hurry.

Another time, word got around that a moose was simply hanging around this one particular field and not leaving. The whole town went out to see it. On second thought, that would only have been a couple hundred people. A number of towns went out. And indeed, the moose did seem as content as a cow to simply stand in the field as car after car pulled up and people jumped out. Parents hung onto their kids to keep them from getting too close. My father pointed out Bill Burt in the crowd, a wiry World War II veteran not fazed by much. "I bet Bill would walk right up to it if all these people weren't here. He just doesn't want to show off."

There's just something magical about a moose on the loose.

So I do understand why my wife desperately hopes to see a moose in a field every time we go to Vermont. She's never had the pleasure, through dozens of trips to Vermont during our marriage. I admire her enthusiasm, I just get tired of trips out of our way on the slim chance of seeing a moose.

This last trip, she and I spent a rare evening alone, eating at a restaurant and then driving up Mount Mansfield, which has Stowe ski resorts on one side and Smugglers' Notch Resort on the other, connected by Smugglers' Notch itself, a winding pass that is closed by snow through the ski season. I doubted that the Notch was open yet, but we drove up toward it anyway. As we climbed, we came upon a couple cars pulled over, with people standing peering into the woods for no apparent reason.

"I bet they saw a moose!" Janet said.

I rolled my eyes. See above about the people looking into the woods for no apparent reason. There just wasn't a moose to be seen. I was driving, but Janet could look out the window all she wanted.

"If you don't see a moose, why do you think they see a moose?" I said, trying to make her shiver before my vast intellect.

"Well ..." She didn't have an answer. Just hope.

I drove on for about a quarter of a mile more, and indeed the Notch was closed, so we turned around.

One of the cars was still pulled over. As we passed it again, Janet said, "Wait! Stop! Look!"

Back in the woods a short distance, were ...

"Horses?" I said.

"Moose!" Janet said. "I told youl!"

I pulled over.

"They look like horses," I muttered. They were a ways into the woods, so we couldn't see them very well. No big horns—but then moose don't have their big antlers in the spring; the antlers shed and regrow each year and get larger through the summer.

"Don't let your door make a sound and scare them off," Janet hissed. I used both hands to ease my door shut, and I didn't latch it, I just slid one hand out and let it sort of rest unclosed in its frame.

We gingerly crossed the road, where a man was kneeling to see better through the branches. He smiled at us. His teenage daughter had edged into the brush down over the bank.

"Horses?" I whispered, sort of hopefully, because otherwise my driving onward earlier had likely blown Janet's best chance ever of seeing a moose.

"Moose!" he said with a broad smile. He gestured to the tracks beside the road, which were split. Not horse tracks. "They were right up here beside the road for a while!"

If the situation were reversed, and it was I who was crazy to see a moose, and Janet blew my chance—well, things would have gotten ugly. But thank goodness my wife is a far better person than her husband. She didn't add anything to that one reflexive "I told you!" earlier. She simply took on a kind of I've-finally-seen-a-moose glow.

When we got back to my parents' house, right away she told them, "We saw two moose!"

It wasn't much of a moose sighting. I now have a guilty wish that I could deliver Janet a better one. I hope it's not her last chance. I made a point of driving her past moose bogs at dusk (prime viewing time) during our two remaining days in Vermont. But no sightings. Keith, Ya Goof!

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