Moose

MOOSE

Boss of the Woods

By James B. Hendryx

Judges of fauna seldom classify moose among the handsome creatures of the wild.

With their overdone heads and underdone rumps, upper lips that hang flabbily over their chins, a ridiculous tuft of chin hair, and a shoulder hump just large enough to interrupt the stream-lining, they place well to the rear of the beauty parade.

The most complementary adjective that can be applied to a moose is “lordly” and that goes only for the male with his great spread of antlers. His wife, with her huge ears, drooping snout, and tapering body is somewhat less than alluring. And undoubtedly the most ungainly object in nature is the youngster, with spindly legs so long that his nose won't reach the ground unless he kneels or straddles his front legs widely apart.

But the moose has his claims to fame. He may be awkward, but he's the world's largest deer. He ranges through Canadian provinces and some of the forested states along that boarder on Canada. He reaches his greatest size in the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska, where specimens weighing three-quarters of a ton, with 6-foot antlers, have been reported.

These antlers are unique in nature. In front they branch like a deer's horns but at the rear they unite into broad, flat surfaces from which six to twelve points protrude. When you look at this impressive array of head armor you wonder how a moose can possibly make his way through the woods without getting hung up. Yet he can travel through a thicket through which a man has to chop his way. He does this by thrusting his nose forward and upward so that his antlers lie back over his shoulders like a shield. Thus protected he wades through heavy brush by sheer power.

In summer, the moose feeds alone and likes it. He seeks out the broad, thin leaves of the striped maple and varies this diet by kneeling down and nibbling on moss and low shrubs. In winter he gets by on bark and twigs.

The moose regularly takes a ducking to get at one of his favorite dishes, the meaty roots and stems of the water lily. He'll stand withers-deep in a stream for hours nosing the bottom and taking in roots with his pendulous lips.

Like other members of the deer family the moose's eyesight is nothing to brag of. On several occasions I have stood motionless in the brush while a moose looked me over from a distance only a few yards and went quietly on with his feeding.

I can personally testify to a moose's power as a swimmer and tugboat. I will remember a certain morning years ago when Charlie Virgin and I were hunting ducks along the eastern shore of Lake of the Woods. We had decided to move camp to a bay six or eight miles down the lake where an Indian had told us the ducks congregated by the hundreds to feed on wild rice.

We struck camp, loaded the outfit into the canoe, and shoved off. Half an hour later a heavy fog settled over the water, reducing visibility to zero. We paddled for a time by compass, and when a ripple gently rocked the canoe, Virgin, who was paddling the bow, called out that a big bull moose was swimming just ahead. Making one end of a coil of light line fast to the bow we paddled close enough for Virgin to toss a loop over a horn of the swimming bull, and after paddling out some thirty or forty feet of line we settled down to enjoy the tow.

After fifteen or twenty minutes of gliding smoothly and effortlessly through the opaque fog in the V-shaped wake, I happened to think of something, and reminded Virgin that when the moose hit shore he probably wouldn't stand to be unhitched.

Charlie agreed and began to haul in on the line in order to salvage as much as possible before cutting it. Just as he was about to cut the line it was torn from his grasp, the canoe was jerked from under us, and we were floundering about in ice-cold water armpit deep, while about us floated the tent, the packsacks, and the bedroll. Guns, ammunition and cooking utensils lay on the bottom.

We spent the better part of an hour wading about locating objects with our feet. Later we found some Indians who sold us a canoe, but I have never tied onto a moose in the water since.

When it comes to gaits, a moose will never rival a thoroughbred or even an antelope. His only successful gait is a stiff high trot, but with this he gets over the ground with fair speed. I clocked one a few years ago near Blind River, Ontario, when a cow moose stepped into the road ahead of my car. She did thirty-five as she held to a trot. But when I crowded her she broke into the moose's ludicrous version of a gallop, her speed dropped below thirty.

Lonely, lordly and ungainly, King Moose is amiable enough most of the time. Like most animals, he'll run from man when startled. That is, except in rutting season. Then, apparently, any man, truck, or automobile is a rival for the affections of the girl. He has wrecked hoods and fenders and even charged broadside into trucks. He is a very formidable customer, his weight and size inspiring great respect and large fund of rumor. He also gives off loud breathing and grunting noises, and is in no haste to depart.

A lady at a card party in a northern cabin once pondered the moose's belligerence. She recalls that while blueberry picking that same day she had noticed fresh moose tracks so large as to be fearsome. Debating measures all to herself, she said, what would happen if you said boo to a moose?

No intelligent answer was forthcoming, but here was a general unexpressed opinion that a bull moose in rutting season is unbooable.

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO TELL YOUR OLD TIME TALES OF THE MOOSE OR SOME INTERESTING FACTS, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO EMAIL TO ME AT borntobeoutdoors@gmail.com AND I WILL BE HAPPY TO INCLUDED THEM ON THE PAGE.