
Moose Wilson road in the Grand Teton National Park is narrow, mostly paved and runs through landscapes worthy of oil paints and water colors. At the northern end is the village of Moose, Wyoming. For a flat lander with a desire to see a moose it seemed like a no brainer. The literature said sightings were frequent around watering holes at sunrise and sunset, so the girls went hunting.

Moose Hunt #1: It is 6:30 AM Wyoming time and as our driver minds the road the two look outs mine for moose. A few fellow hunters are spotted in the early morning light, but critters equal zero. The question hanging in the air: is a "moose story" appropriate and if so we need to get the non-facts straight before breakfast.
Moose Hunt #2: It is roughly 6:30 PM Wyoming time and as our driver dodges an apparent bear traffic jam, the two look outs feel a flash of hope. Arriving at the previous moose spotting sight, disappointment grows when there is no place to park. The score board tells the story: beaver - one; ducks - a few; chipmunk - pissed off, and tourists approximately 35 to 45! 
Turns out the moose is not the Bullwinkle idiot of my childhood. He is wise to tourist ways! He was probably observing us from the undergrowth and shaking his fifty-plus pound antlers. The folly of humans racing their large fossil fuel burning creatures through protected wilderness to observe dying breeds is dis-heartening!
As the soap box collapses, silent thoughts of gratitude to people with foresight like the artist George Catlin, and Presidents Harrison, Roosevelt and Wilson for protecting some awesome landscape. Silent prayers to elk, moose, wolf and even chipmunks who struggle daily to avoid the creature called human. The plan for the next hunting trip - bring those moose some muffins!
My what a lovely column of death Mike is sitting in front of. I thought moose had different looking antlers, but what does this sub-urban boy know!
ReplyDeleteGreat pics.