When we went to Fairbanks to find a place to live, one thing we noticed right away was the many moose crossing signs. They were everywhere. We eagerly awaited our first moose sighting. Alas, we did not see one moose on that trip, nor did we see one during the first few months after we’d moved there. We had met our neighbours, who lived down the road a bit, and mentioned our eagerness to see some moose. One night, they called to tell us that a moose was headed our way. We went directly to the large windows and waited. Then, all of a sudden, there it was! The tall, gangly being, slowly walking among the trees looking for something to munch on. We watched with rapt attention. I am not sure how long we stood there.
After living there for a while, moose sightings became commonplace and it was kind of sad to realise that. We just took them for granted We still enjoyed watching them, and we knew to respect them, because you don’t want to get between a mama moose and her offspring. She has a mean kick that can do serious damage and has killed small dogs. Our neighbours had a garden and they had to try to make a moose-proof fence. I chuckled, remembering my Nana, who used to see the deer in her large garden and would keep a pot and wooden spoon by the back door for just such moments. I vividly remember her storming out the door, banging on the pot and yelling, ‘You deer get out of my garden!’ I’m not sure how she would have dealt with moose munching on her veggies!
We had large windows in our round house and we had our dining table next to one of them. One morning, I turned around with my coffee and saw a moose on the porch looking in the window at my breakfast.
I loved winter mornings in that house. I would sit by one of the windows that looked out down the driveway, a curved path cut through the trees. It would not get light until 10:30 or 11, depending on the month, and I would sit drinking tea, listening to quiet music, and stitching or reading, stopping frequently to just look out the window. I had icicle lights hanging down in the windows, which were double-paned, so the lights were reflected in them, providing enough light, but not too much. I had candles burning.
The cats would sleep in their improvised cat cabins, made out of boxes and set in front of the heater. The dogs napped on the floor in front of the heater. It was quiet. As sunrise slowly approached, the birds would come to the feeder, the squirrels would attempt to steal some seed (but never succeeded) and the moose would come. It was so blissfully peaceful.
Our dog, Inu, also liked the moose, but in a different way. One day, our Inupiaq Eskimo friends came to visit, bringing him the gift of a moose bone. He was thrilled and strutted around the house. But we apparently did not make enough enthusiastic noises to suit him, and he started whining as he marched around the house with the giant bone hanging from his mouth. We started making exclamations of delight in our high pitched voices. ‘Oh, what do you have there?’ ‘What a big bone!’ ‘What an excellent bone!’ After a minute or two of this, he was satisfied and settled down with his treat.
Sadly, it was pretty common for moose to get hit by cars and killed. When this happened, the list was consulted. I am not sure who kept this list, but it consisted of people and groups that signed up to come to the scene when a moose was killed by a vehicle. They butchered the moose and kept or distributed the meat, so it did not go to waste.
They are definitely magnificent creatures!
