"Dances with Moose"

Even after living in the North Country for 10 years and having seen many moose and heard many moose stories, it still thrills me to see one. Or more.

Take last night for instance: As my husband and I were returning from dinner out, we saw two moose crossing the road. The handsome guy in the lead stood tall and proud with velvet antlers, while his much-smaller companion lacked antlers. They both had lost their mangy, mottled look of early spring, and become a rich, dark chocolate color. 

Because bulls tend to be solitary and don’t stay with their young as cows do until they have another calf, we rarely see males with other moose. As the two evaporated into the woods we wondered why these two were together. A nearby salt lick?

I have other moose sightings and stories stored away in my memory bank: Seeing five at a time in a bog made salty from winter road runoff. Being startled by the back end of a 1000-pound, six-foot-tall bull while driving to a trailhead. The humongous black one my husband encountered on a hike that I, trailing hundreds of yards behind, never got to see.

My friend Diane moved here from Texas three years ago. One of the first things she did was take her daughters on a North Country moose tour out of Berlin, which guarantees you will see a moose. They saw several.

Returning to the tour again with her husband Duncan in tow, no moose appeared. Two years later Duncan still hadn’t seen a moose, though he’d heard a lot of moose stories. Meanwhile, Diane kept seeing moose and, unfortunately, she even hit a moose (both she and the moose were fine). So although Duncan still hadn’t seen a moose, he got a first-hand view of the damage one could do to a car.

Earlier this spring, I received an email from Diane announcing to everyone she knew that she and Duncan had spent an hour watching three moose feeding in a boggy meadow right across the street from their home, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

The local police chief and state police tell the story of coming across a commotion on the main road after attending a meeting at the town hall. It seems a car full of teenagers had just hit a moose and didn’t know what to do. They thought the moose might be hurt.

The police officers (without guns as they were off duty and had only one flashlight between them) decided they should pursue based on the damage to the car. Thrashing through the dark, they found the moose, with a broken hind leg, caught in the highway right-of-way fence. As they approached the moose, he thrashed mightily, broke through the fence and charged toward them on his three good legs.

The guy with the flashlight disappeared in one direction, leaving the other guy wondering what to do next. He suddenly remembered that he had been told if he was ever charged by a moose to stand behind a tree. However, since this was a bog there were no large trees.

So he executed Plan B: He decided to run like mad back to the highway. The moose was hard on his heels in spite of the broken leg. Thinking he was about to be flattened, the policeman turned to see the moose run past him. Fortunately, another police officer from a neighboring town (having been called by the teenagers) had appeared and put the injured moose out of his misery.

My favorite memory is from a solo hike in the woods behind our home. About halfway through the hike I saw a moose coming down the trail. We both stopped dead in our tracks and stared. I cautiously moved behind the nearest tree and so did he. We danced from side to side looking around our respective trees, looking deep into each others eyes. It was a slow dance. After several minutes, with me wondering what my plan B was, he calmly dissolved into the woods. Wish that would happen again.

By Marcia Lee, Master Gardener, UNH Cooperative Extension

For more information call the UNH Cooperative Extension's Family, Home & Garden Center's Info-line (toll free) at 1-877-398-4769 or send us an email. Volunteers are available to answer your questions Monday through Friday 9:00am to 2:00 p.m.

June 27, 2006