Thursday evening, 13 January 2022
Usually in December I see a cow moose and her calves browse through my yard. I have been thinking about her and her babes — the deep snows make travel difficult, as does that layer of ice hidden half way down in the drifts. Potential ankle twisting steps and the work it takes to slog through the windswept piles must surely have effected many a moose out in their territories…especially if young legs are not long enough yet to lift up and over to make a fresh step. It squeezes my heart to think of the new calves and the yearlings slowly starving to death. It will be a good year to be a wolf, but not a moose.
Today when I turned into my drive I saw the telltale track of a moose. Yay, they’re back! (Or at least one…) I glimpsed a dark shape by the side of my house, at the area where the roof’s eave shields the ground from falling precipitation. Cautiously, quietly, so I would not spook it, I carried my bags inside. Now safe up on the porch — startled or cornered moose who cannot run away have no choice but to kick out with their front hooves — I tiptoed (as quietly as one can in cleated winter boots) to the opposite end of the deck and peered over.
The dark shape seemed to be partially under the house. Odd behavior for a moose, but if it’s a young one and can fit part of its body under, then perhaps it was eating…? The chickweed grows lushly under my house each spring and summer. Sadly, I’m not surprised that this hard-to-reach ground cover might be considered a delicacy now, but is it even edible at this time of year? There are several willow trees directly behind the house, growing up and over the hillock made by the leech field. There’s sustenance there if it can be reached….
An odd crunching brushing sound caught my ear. I blinked to see the dark shape of the moose teeter forward as a back leg folded under it. It’s laying down! What an odd thing for a moose to do half way under my house. The area is like a valley between the drifts of fallen and plow-pushed snow and the bare area near the house. Perhaps the moose is bedding down for the night here.
Or this is the only way it can reach the food.
Or it is dying…
I hope for one of the first two possibilities. I am wondering about the last one, however, because this is the only moose I see, and for the last five winters I have always seen a moose come leading one or two youngsters.
The next morning I see moose droppings that were not there yesterday. No dark shape fills the space between snow and empty “basement” space under my house. The moose has moved on, alive and well. I breathe a thankful sigh of relief, yet I still ponder about the other two Alces alces…
