Never Herd a Moose
by
Randy J. South
Reprint from the 1997 Fall Roundup
I spent the
day grubbing sage brush off the north side of the South Menan Butte, an
old extinct volcano west of Rexburg, Idaho. I shut the crawler off and
started walking home. My route took me to the top of the butte, around
the west rim, down the face, and to the far side of the mountain.
The route I chose was following the tracks of a big elk. "Wow! It must
be BIG!" I thought, because the tracks were huge. The tracks were fresh,
too. This huge elk was stopping, turning, moving on, and finally stopping
and then bolting quickly on.
I'm embarrassed to say that I should have known from the size of the cloven
tracks alone, that this was no elk. Elk and moose tracks differ in other
ways, too, but I was not hunting or tracking. I was heading home and did
not think about it. I should have known that - strictly by coincidence
- I was herding this animal.
In the process of following the tracks and looking for arrow heads, I
picked up a beautiful, shiny rock that had been split open and thrust
up with the volcano when it was active thousands of years ago. Fortunately,
it was in my right hand.
I paused to investigate some coyote tracks when out of my peripheral vision,
I saw a huge figure moving just ahead and not even 30 feet away. Quickly
I looked full around to see a beautiful bull moose.
I figure he was about two-years-old. His antlers were in the velvet. His
coat was still a little shaggy from winter, and his mouth was foaming.
Something or someone had this animal on the prod. Perhaps, though not
intentionally, it was ME! For a long second, we stared at each other while
I froze.
I have run across a moose many, many times while living in Island Park,
Idaho. Each time the moose would have turned, after a second or two, and
meandered off. Today it was different.
He lowered his head, flattened his ears, barred his teeth and charged!
He closed half the distance when I hurled my pretty rock at him - which
missed - but bought me a split second of time to back up. Next, I chucked
my ball cap as close as possible to his big Roman nose. At this point
I saw a display that I will never forget.
The big bull reared on his hind legs and swatted at the ball cap like
a tennis player serving a ball. I already knew that a moose bone structure
is different than any other mammal, but now I saw it in fierce action.
You see, a moose shoulder is a plate of bone and cartilage not connected
to any other bone, but attached to the leg with large muscles. This allows
the moose some scary flexibility unlike any other wrecking machine.
The big bull, still on his hind legs, slashed and slashed in the air with
those sharp cloven hooves, tossing his head in defiance as he marched
closer. At this point I lost all dignity and started screaming and waving
my arms violently in an effort to mount a puny reply.
All this time (another second) I was retreating and stumbling over lava
rocks. For a few seconds there was a pause. We stood and stared again
and I expected him to turn and amble off like I have seen moose do so
many times before.
Not so. Without warning he again lowered his head, flattened his ears
and leaped toward me and then reared up on his hind legs again. This time
I knew I would either be ripped to shreds by those lightening-fast, razor
sharp hooves, stomped, or maimed and left for dead.
Again he slashed in the air with incredible speed and dexterity, both
front hooves and legs way higher than my head. For an eternity measured
in microseconds we stood there with me shouting, waving and expecting
to die; and him thrashing and foaming at the mouth.
I guess the big bull was satisfied that it had scared me to death. He
finally wheeled, dropped to all fours, and effortlessly trotted up the
steep grade to the rim of the volcano, using that ungainly movement that
his peculiar bone structure afforded him.
The last slash through the air with his powerful leg and hoof was just
a few feet from my head. Talk about how to get your heart rate up. What
a magnificent animal. A moose is one of God's fantastic creations. R
andy South co-invented and lives in a Monolithic Dome about
400 feet above the Snake River on the South Menan Butte in Idaho. He is
the father of nine children who roam the mountain at will.
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