East Pole Journal March28, 2020 This expectant mother is no lady

Maybe the same mystery moose from earlier this winter.

Those less familiar with Alaska may need this introduction before we get to the main story. To begin with, we have deeper snow than usual this year. Undisturbed, the snow measures at least three feet deep or more anywhere off a beaten trail. That makes life particularly difficult for moose when that snow is belly deep and they tend to like the trails we make with snowmachines which over time can become as hard as sidewalks. When encountered they do not want to get off the trail and will put up quite a fight to avoid the deep snow on either side. This can be a dangerous encounter for both moose and human.

As more and more people use the trails, they develop moguls, small, bone jarring hills caused largely by less experienced drivers speeding up, spinning their tracks which then dig up a small snow hill behind them. As more and more people pass and accelerate to go over the developing mogul, the machines dig the holes deeper and throw up snow and that makes the moguls higher. Seldom can someone trying to protect the eggs in his cooler go even 10 miles per hour. As a result, for me anyway, it takes 40 minutes or more to go the seven miles from the trailhead to this cabin.

So, given that background here's what happened. Yesterday I needed to make one of those quick trips out to take care of a little business and pick up a few items given that this deep snow is going to give me at least a couple of extra weeks this winter, weeks I had not planned for. I left early in the morning, for me anyway, and found the trail in the best condition I can ever remember seeing before. No moguls. I could actually go fast. Given that I had to drive 80 miles one way, anything that saves time is good. I admit I tore down that trail as fast as I could even topping 20 mph a few times. That was at least until I headed up the last big hill before the parking lot. That's when I saw the moose. She stood in the trail facing the same direction I was going but with her head turned watching me as I approached.

Now, it's just not cool to harass a moose, especially as they are weakened after a poor diet over a hard winter. In addition it looked to me like this one was a pregnant female. I stopped as soon as I saw her at a good distance and set my mind to be patient, maybe push her a little to encourage her to leave the trail, but nothing to create a fight-or-flight situation. I did stand up and yell. She turned and trotted ahead a little and I followed maintaining the same distance, but within a minute or two she stopped to look at me again and I stopped, keeping the separation distance. (Talk about your social distancing.) We played this-cat and-mouse game most of the way up the hill. Twice I ran over strings of moose nuggets she left in the trail for me, a signal I think, of just what she thought about my intrusion.

Occasionally around a blind rise or corner I would get closer than either of us was comfortable with. Most of those times she trotted off and one time when she did that I revved the engine. That made her trot faster but when I backed off so did she.

Then she disappeared around a curve and I sped up a little to catch her, but as she came into sight again, this time she had turned her whole body, was facing me as she came into view. Hair on her neck and shoulders stood up and her ears were laid back. These are sure signs a moose is pissed and might attack. We are talking about an animal that weighs 800 to 1,000 pounds coming at you faster than you would believe. I got off and walked around to where the snowmachine was between us and dug my pistol out of the pack. I also looked around for a tree to get behind if she did charge. For all the trees along the trail, wouldn't you know, at this point we were in a little clearing and the nearest possible shelter tree stood several yards away through that deep snow. I waved my arms and yelled and she stood there glaring at me. What we had there was a standoff. Then after maybe a very tense minute, abruptly she changed her mind, turned and trotted ahead on the trail.

And so we progressed. When she moved I moved and when she stopped I stopped as we slowly worked our way up one side of the hill and down the other. This went on for about half an hour over about a mile of trail. My great early start destroyed. Eventually we came down off the hill onto a level stretch and within sight of the parking lot. On this last little bit she chose to stop three times to nibble at little branches stretching into the trail, testing my patience just about to the limit. That last part of the trail runs parallel to a dirt road that leads to a subdivision. Once she reached a point where she could see that road, she waded into about 10 feet of deep snow between the two and trotted back up the hill toward the houses. When I could be sure she was no danger any longer, I roared past her toward the trail head. The last I saw of the moose, her hind end was disappearing around a curve in the that road well behind me.

So except for the disruption in my plan, we separated none the worse for wear; we both survived and without any major confrontation. My hope is she has a healthy calf or two

About that mystery moose

The East Pole Journal