Welcome to 2TheHeart!
"Beauty in not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart."
~Kahlil Gibran~
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2TheHeart will be taking a break next week! This Friday will be our last story until July 10th.
Today my column will be replaced by the great Kathe Campbell. Visit our "Today's Story" page on 2theheart to see a painting created by Kathe, as well as her Gallery on the Art & Poetry page. Send Kathe an email!
OUR BULLWINKLE
KATHE CAMPBELL
LAST WINTER HAD BEEN UNUSUALLY DRY AND WARM ON OUR 7000' MOUNTAIN IN MONTANA, FAR DIFFERENT FROM THE ALMANAC PREDICTIONS. IN FACT, THERE SIMPLY HADN'T BEEN ENOUGH SNOW TO SNOWMOBILE OUT THE FRONT GATE WITH THE LONE EXCEPTION OF ONE WEEK IN FEBRUARY WHEN THE FALL WAS WET AND HEAVY. IT WAS DURING THAT WEEK I CLIMBED ABOARD MY SLED TO TEST OUT SOME NEW LEFT-HANDED EQUIPMENT. A FEW YARDS DOWN THE ROAD I WAS STARTLED TO SEE A YOUNG MOOSE GRUNTING AND FLAILING VIOLENTLY IN OUR BARBED WIRE FENCE. HE WAS HANGING PRECARIOUSLY UPSIDE DOWN BY THE PASTERN OF ONE HIND LEG WHICH APPEARED TO BE BLEEDING PROFUSELY. I WAS TEMPTED TO FREE THE ANIMAL WITH MY NEW WIRE CUTTERS BUT REMEMBERED MONTANA'S STRICT LAWS ABOUT CIVILIANS INTERFERING WITH WILDLIFE. ALSO THE YOUNGSTER'S IRATE MOTHER HAD NOW APPEARED AND I KNEW BETTER THAN TO STEP BETWEEN A MOTHER MOOSE AND HER CHILD. SO, I CALLED OUR LOCAL GAME WARDEN WHO SAID HE WOULD COME IMMEDIATELY.
FENCE DEATHS ARE COMMON AMONGST WILDLIFE IN MONTANA. SOME ARE RESCUED BUT FREQUENTLY PARENTS EVENTUALLY ABANDON THEIR YOUNG AND THEY ARE LEFT TO DIE. A LUCKY FEW ARE RESCUED BY ANIMAL WARDENS AND TURNED OVER TO SURROGATES TO RAISE AND RELEASE. THE YOUNGSTER'S LEG LOOKED SO FRAGILE I COULDN'T HELP BUT RECALL A VERY COURAGEOUS COW MOOSE WHO THRIVED ON OUR WELL PROTECTED MOUNTAIN FOR MANY YEARS. ONE OF HER FRONT LEGS HAD BEEN SHOT OFF BY SOME UNSCRUPULOUS HUNTER. SOMEHOW SHE MANAGED TO ESCAPE AND DID A FINE JOB OF RAISING SEVERAL CALVES IN THE YEARS TO FOLLOW.
I WASTED NO TIME CLOSING THE FRONT GATES AS MRS. MOOSE INDICATED IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS THAT SHE PREFERRED I STAY BEHIND THE FENCE AND MIND MY OWN BUSINESS. SHE PAWED THE SNOW, SNORTED GREAT BILLOWS OF STEAM, THEN RETURNED TO HER CHILD'S SIDE. THE YOUNGSTER WAS BECOMING EXHAUSTED AND WAS NOW ON THE PERILOUS SIDE OF HIS BATTLE. HE WAS TOO SPENT TO FIGHT THE WIRE AND WAS FALLING PREY TO THE CERTAINTY OF HYPOTHERMIA.
IT TOOK OUR GAME WARDEN 20 MINUTES TO ARRIVE AND CAREFULLY MANEUVER THE DRIVER'S SIDE OF HIS RIG BETWEEN THE YOUNG VICTIM AND HIS FRANTIC MOTHER. MRS. MOOSE WOULD HAVE NONE OF IT. SHE CIRCLED THE TRUCK AROUND AND AROUND, BOWED HER NECK AND BEGAN HER DANCING AND SNORTING ROUTINE AGAIN. AT LEAST WE NOW HAD HER MIND PRE-OCCUPIED. HAVING BEEN APPOINTED A SURROGATE PARENT I FELT I WAS PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF ASSISTING IN THIS OPERATION BUT THE WARDEN WASN'T ABOUT TO PUT A CIVILIAN AT RISK. HE WAS RIGHT, OF COURSE, BUT TIME WAS NOW TAKING ITS TOLL ON THIS HELPLESS CHILD. HE NOW LAID VERY STILL AND HIS BREATHING HAD BECOME LABORED.
AS MRS. MOOSE CONTINUED WITH HER ENDLESS DANCING AND PLAYING RING-AROUND-A-ROSIE WITH THE WARDEN'S TRUCK, I WATCHED HIM LITERALLY SLITHER OUT THE DRIVER'S DOOR AND PLASTER HIMSELF FLAT ON THE GROUND. THE VERY MOMENT MAMA MOOSE RETURNED TO THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE TRUCK THE WARDEN THREW HIMSELF UP ONTO THE EMBANKMENT, CUT TWO STRANDS OF WIRE IN JIG TIME AND FLEW BACK INTO HIS VEHICLE JUST AS MRS. MOOSE RACED FOR HER CHILD. THE YOUNGSTER'S LEG SEEMED TO BE FROZEN IN MID AIR BUT AFTER A MOMENT OR TWO IT SLOWLY RETURNED TO THE SNOWY GROUND.
WE WATCHED AS SHE ALL BUT NUDGED HER CHILD OUT ONTO THE ROAD AND THEN PROCEEDED TO CROSS INTO THE WOODS. AFTER WHAT SEEMED AN ETERNITY THE YOUNGSTER STRUGGLED TO HIS FEET, TOOK A FEW STEPS AND STOOD ON UNCERTAIN LEGS TO GATHER HIS BEARINGS. MAMA REAPPEARED FROM THE WOODS, SNORTED ONE LAST TIME AND AT LAST THE CALF GIMPED ALONG BEHIND HIS MOTHER OVER THE SNOWY BANK. THAT WAS CLOSE.
WHILE IRRIGATING IN THE EAST PASTURE RECENTLY, I WAS STARTLED BY AN ADOLESCENT MOOSE STARING AT ME FROM BENEATH A HUGE PINE. HE SPORTED GREAT GHOSTLIKE GOBS OF WHITE UNDERWEAR STICKING OUT FROM HIS RUFF AND OVER HIS BACK AND FLANKS. THE TREE ITSELF RESEMBLED A FLOCKED CHRISTMAS TREE AS THE LOWER BRANCHES WERE SERVING AS SHEDDING LIMBS FOR THIS HANDSOME YOUNG BULL'S MOLT. AFTER REGAINING MY COMPOSURE I SAID, "WELL, HI THERE BULLWINKLE, WHERE'D YOU COME FROM"? IF HE COULD HAVE ANSWERED I'M SURE HE WOULD HAVE TOLD ME HE WAS NOW OVER A YEAR OLD, HIS MOM HAD A NEW BABY, AND HE WAS NOW ON HIS OWN. AND AS HE TURNED AND AMBLED OFF TO GRAZE I NOTED A SLIGHT LIMP AND A PRONOUNCED SCAR ON HIS PASTERN.
KATHE CAMPBELL
AUTHOR'S NOTE: JUST ONE MORE EPISODE OF OUR FABULOUS ADVENTURES IN MONTANA. AS ALWAYS I AM PASSIONATE ABOUT WRITING THE STORIES OF VARIOUS PEOPLE, FAMILY, AND THE ANIMALS THAT ALLOW US TO DWELL NEARBY.
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