A Moose Among Us

Because I am insane, I think it's a pretty good time to go camping.

I am not talking about pulling a trailer up to the plugs at the KOA, and I'm not talking about throwing some lawn chairs and a cooler full of beer into the back of the truck and heading to the woods to make a giant bonfire.  Those things are fun and all, but when I say I like "camping", I am talking about putting everything I need to survive in a backpack and then heading for the hills.  Not in a car.  Using my feet.

See?

Told you I was crazy.

Boyfriend and I decided it was time to take our first trip of the year on the 4th of July weekend.

We swaggered into the backcountry permit office and told the ranger we would take "whatever" if it was around 6 miles in and open.  It's a busy weekend and we didn't plan ahead.  We ended up getting a spot in a place called the Tonahutu Meadows on the west side of Rocky Mountain National Park.

This was our first view of our home for the next two nights.

It was a relatively comfortable spot, even if the meadow was completely swampy and had more bugs than I would like.  Our camp was in the trees, so there was still a bit of snow here and there, but we managed to make ourselves a nice temporary home.   

The Incident happened on the second night of our stay.

It had been a lazy day.  I had been writing bits and pieces here and there, thinking I might have something worthwhile to say about the woods. It wasn't exactly a journal, more a record of some thoughts that crossed my mind and notes about things I wanted to make sure I would remember later.

While we drank our last little bit of hot cocoa before turning in for the evening, I wrote the following:

"If you're worried about wildlife, and think that even the deer and bunnies are out to get you, make sure you have your camera out and ready at all times.  It is the best wild animal repellent there is."

I wrote this because about a year ago I had run offtrail to pee at on another backpacking trip, and left my camera with my boyfriend.  Not 20 feet later, I almost walked into an elk.  We were maybe 5 feet apart when we noticed each other.  It was relatively young, so it didn't know what to do anymore than I did, and it looked at me with the stupidest expression I have ever seen on such a noble creature.  Its tongue was sticking out a little, it looked buck-toothed, and it's eyes looked crossed in startlement.

I slowly backed away and I vowed to never ever set down my camera ever again while in the backcountry for any reason.  Ever.

Anyway.  The Incident...

If I hadn't written that bit about the camera, would the moose have avoided us?

If I'd brought my camera, would they have steered clear?

Am I just being superstitious?

Bed time is relatively early while backpacking.  After all, what are you going to do after dark?  We couldn't even have a campfire at this particular site, so there was no reason to stay up.

Since you can't risk leaving dirty dishes around for fear of attracting bears, we were walking to our dish-washing spot in the meadow a couple hundred feet from camp to clean up after cocoa.

A moose wandered into the other end of the clearing, maybe 100 yards away.

Boyfriend and I laughed a little that I didn't have my camera (I had brought it with me to the privy earlier in the day just in case.  And now I didn't have it.

I set everything down on the ground, thinking I would go to retrieve my camera, when Boyfriend said, "There's a calf."

My heartrate spiked a little.  I did NOT want to be around a mama moose and a calf.  I glanced back, but  continued on for my camera.

Things got a bit chaotic for me at this point.

Something, maybe us, maybe the mama moose that had entered the scene, spooked the first moose, and it took off running.  It charged through our dishwashing spot and disappeared into the woods behind our camp. It then popped out moments later after crashing through the undergrowth,  and charging through the trees, snapping branches and making a racket.

It was like some kind of monster, and I swear I saw fangs as it veered towards me.  I did the only thing I could think of doing, and dodged behind a large tree.  Somewhere in my brain came the thought that this was a young moose, maybe a yearling, and that we were lucky it wasn't some huge male with antlers bigger than my car.

The moose passed within 15 feet of me, and turned again in it's pounding run towards the creek.

Here's a map I drew of the incident in my little notebook (not to scale).  And yes.  Everything I know about drawing maps I learned from J.R.R.Tolkien.  What of it?

We were between our camp and the small stream to the west, although we completely lost track of each other while the moose was running.

Once it was going away instead of towards me, I hurried back to camp for my camera like it was some kind of magic talisman.

Boyfriend asked me to pick up his trekking poles while I was there.   He was still on the edge of the clearing watching the moose (Mooses?  Meeces?  Multiple Moosi?) and I asked him what good they would do, what was he going to smack at it while it pushed him into the ground?  But I picked them up and handed them to him.

What were we going to do?  What if they bedded down nearby? What if they stomped on our tent?

Holy crap, adrenaline.

I could still see the no longer running moose stopped and flipping its ears around a couple hundred feet away.  Mama and baby were slowly exiting the meadow on the far side.

Maybe the camera WAS a talisman.  Those huge animals faded into the darkening meadow before I could turn on my camera.

No, seriously, there is a moose mama and calf out there, about dead center in this photo.  I am totally not making this up.  It was mostly dark, and they were pretty far away.

And THIS is why I will never be a wildlife photographer.  Wildlife scares the shit out of me.  That little dark spot in the middle is the running moose after it stopped.  I think it was pleased that it scared us.

We were up pretty late after that.

Yeah, I will stick to taking pictures of trees and mountains and rainbows, and leave the animals to someone braver than me.