A Four Moose Morning

June 12, 2004

by Brenda Marcotte

 

Four o’clock comes early.  Too early.  Most mornings I just pass, but this morning was different.  We had talked about making an earlier run through “moose country” for pictures.  (While we were at it we were hoping, as we have for some time now, to see a bear.  Last summer a bear cub ran out in the road, looked as cute and horrified as only a bear CUB can, and instantly ran back into the woods!  I remember commenting it was strange we hadn’t seen more bears.  We are in the right place at the right time.)

 

 But back to the moose.  I have always held the theory -- moose ARE more active in the morning.  People ask me, and I tell them truthfully we see them fairly regularly, morning or night.  (But deep down, I KNOW mornings are better.)  A few times I said that out loud, followed by “ between 4 and 6 we see the most though! “  The staggering silence and/or looks that clearly said “ are you INSANE? “ warned me I am welcome to keep that opinion to myself.  I have yet to find anyone who was willing to pay me to give them a reason to get out of bed at four in the morning!  Not surprising, you say?  

 

Well, I have another theory.   Probably, like ET thought while he was hiding in the closet, there ARE others out there like me!  I have married one (it’s that “wither thou goest” thing don’t you know.) and, like myself, some of my friends are imbued with the spirit of adventure.

 

We left, my husband, my friend, and I, according to our self-imposed schedule, promptly at 5am.  There had been a light frost last night and as the sun streamed out low across fields and valleys, lakes and streams, a heavy mist slowly rose and mysteriously disappeared.  The drive across the bridge spanning the Androscoggin River at Rumford Center was right out of a fog- enshrouded Scottish Moor scene in an old black and white movie!  The silhouette of a kingfisher on a tree branch over the Ellis River was briefly visible through the mist as we passed.  The first few moose wallows were vacant, at least for the moment, but all signs indicated there were moose EVERYWHERE.

 

All their favorite hangouts were empty.  I was beginning to think there was a flaw in at least one part of my theory.  You could even tell from their tracks ‘side the road that the black flies were bothering some of them.  Their tracks dug deep, the damp sand sprayed out, and the tracks themselves were kind of zigzagged.  It’s hard to run and shake your head at the same time!  Try it some time.  One huge bull, I imagined, strode up the left side of the road, heading in the same direction we were.  I looked for him in vain.

 

When we arrived at the salt shed, there in the bog were a pair of yearlings!  “Ok!” I thought.  Finally.  The first moose is the hardest.  After I’ve seen one, I can relax and enjoy myself.  And I DO enjoy myself.  The dust had hardly finished settling and my “moose-mobile” I drive around in was still making strange little noises, when the young moose began staring  mistrustfully at the woods across the road.  “More moose coming,” I whispered, and sure enough within a few minutes two more moose hurried across the road and into the bog.  One of the newcomers looked to be maybe two years old, maybe the mother of the other one,  a yearling about the same size as the others.  We watched as moose amenities were exchanged.  A little nipping, a little hoof sparing, shoulder to shoulder (like all kids) they shoved past each other trying to be the first to the next puddle or mouthful of moist green munchies.  They settled down finally and all the while we were snapping picture after picture.  We were nearly invisible as far as they were concerned.  About the only time they looked our way was when my noisy camera automatically rewound.  And it was usually then that they did something really precocious – like touching noses, while I tried with 14 thumbs to put another film in the camera, just time enough for them to find another bush to stick their head in.  (Yes, I know a dangling participle, or something like that.)

 

Anyway, there they were.  Four moose!  That’s not bad.  I was very pleased.  I did actually get a roll and a half of some fairly neat shots.  My friend taunted me with previews of her pictures – digital.  Lucky her, she just zapped any she didn’t like and kept on “shooting”, while I loaded another film and had to wait to see what I captured.

 

Now, don’t get bored and stop reading here, because it gets better. 

 

After almost 45 minutes of photographing "teen" moose antics we decided to head out.  Less than three miles away, I coasted up to a wallow that is a favorite spot for me (and the moose).  Sure enough, there was a young, pretty cow waiting center stage.  As we snapped a few shots, I noticed a fair size bull waiting just inside woods.  Too much traffic this morning.  He wasn't sure he was ready to venture out.  Just at that moment a pickup truck roared up, stopped, and the man rolling the window down said, " There's a BIG bull back down on the corner!  I mean a BIG one!"

 

"Thank you!"  Enough said.  We left these two without looking back.  I had no real hope of finding him still there, but as we approached the area I knew our friend referred to, there he was!  Oh, my word!   He was big, with a rack out to here (note the outstretched arms).  We were less than twenty yards away from him, but he was quite well camouflaged by brush, so it wasn't the best photo opportunity.  Still we had to try.  Several cars zoomed past, one or two slowed down thinking they might see a moose.  Apparently none of them were lucky enough to spot him in the brush.  Lucky  for us though, as it bought us a little more time to try getting a better shot. (He never did emerge completely, but this photo will give you an idea of his size.)

 

All good things must come to an end.  This one, like many others before him, showed us his backside as he vanished into the brush.  

 

Being the die-hard fanatic that I am we took the long way home.  I think I was still so psyched over seeing "the big guy" that I was caught off guard when Leon said, " There's one right there." A healthy looking cow moose stepped out from the left side, wheeled around as we passed, and returned to the woods.  I made a u-turn about a hundred yards down the road and went back to park on the roadside.  She was still there, just inside the tree line.  While we watched she came cautiously to the road's edge, then darted across.  I expected her to keep right on going, but she surprised me by stopping on the other side to feed!  Picture opportunity knocks again.  Several shots later I bid her adieu, turned around, and continued our journey.  

 

How many is this now?  Eight, right?  Well, this was when fate stepped in.  As we came down a long hill onto the flats, I was busy scanning left and right (unlike the show, eight could be enough but it didn't need to be).  Hope springs eternal in the heart of a certifiable mooseaholic like myself!

 

Suddenly my friend was making noises that I can only describe as, "ab ab ab ab..."  and I glanced down the road where she was pointing as she finally blurted out, "a bear!"  The car coming the other way had a better view as they had to stop to avoid hitting it.  All we had was the fleeting image of the bear as he dashed across the road and disappeared.  Still, it was quite an exciting moment to add to our already great morning.

 

We were "barely" over the excitement and only about five miles down the road when we came across another big beauty, a pregnant cow, feeding in a little roadside "valley".  She wasn't camera shy, nor was she put off by the three strange creatures who stopped to gawk at her.  We were there almost an hour.  I shot an entire roll of film of her.  To my mind, it just doesn't get any better than this.  (How many pictures of a moose does anyone need you ask?  I don't know yet.) Another car stopped and irritated both the moose and us.  She made a brief foray into the trees and they left.  We watched as she immediately came back out.  I told her the next time I wanted to see her baby and we left.  (I still haven't seen a newborn this year)

 

The drive home was a time to reflect.  So much excitement this day!  A gift of beauty and wonder.  Who could ever have imagined a four moose morning turning into a nine moose and a bear morning?  Some days it does pay to get up at four in the morning!

 

Thank you, Lord!

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