I Like Moose: pt5 - Finale

V

It is a wonder, The Moose, such a still animal and yet, so difficult to see. I felt like Bishop and by August my dream of a Moose experience was almost completely disappointed. For months I'd assumed that eventually I'd see one. I've driven dozens of times at night on back roads, been teased by yellow and black signs deeming that this place had moose crossings. Yet, I've seen nothing.

By this time I'd seen three Bald Eagles -- This was America. (In retrospect, I assume it was the same one, with a nest in the vicinity of my cabin). Cobscook was flooded with over 200 species of birds and I longed for the long-legged brute that capitalized my idea of Maine. Chuckles promised me I'd see one. "There're all over the fuckin' place. See, ones been here!" He pointed to a pile of dung near where we were walking. It could or could not have been moose; I believed he wanted to make a point.

"I've never seen one though. I want to see one in person, up close, not just it's shit."

"How close you planning on getting?"

"As close as it will let me." It was then that Chuckles promised that he'd help me find a moose before I left, and added that he'd like to see how close I could really get.

Two A.M. Chuckles roared into my cabin floodlight in hand, he shook me then cupped my mouth and whispered, "you ready?" I nodded feverishly. I threw on shoes and walked out of the cabin to meet Chuckles. He handed me a light as well and we treaded into the woods.

"Aren't we gonna take the truck? I've been here all summer, up and down these roads and I've never seen one." I spoke in a low, gravely tone. Chuckles paused, turned back and shushed me. I shushed. We were doing something. We passed through the park trails, and my trails, into the depths of the park. In fact, with almost 100 acres of land deemed State Park Material, it was hard to know where the ends and beginnings really were. I felt like we were the first humans to ever venture this far, me clad in flannel pajamas and fake Timberland boots, Chuckles was broad and indecipherable in his dark army green ranger outfit. His light was the only way I could find and follow him.

The sky was lightening-up. We walked for hours, I couldn't even tell it in miles, we could have been going in circles, or ovals or squares but I trusted Chuckles. We were moose hunting. We were surrounded by foliage, since there was no path or trail we were dodging branches and plant life debris left and right. Chuckles would clear his way and the tree would repel his arms whacking me in the face. I didn't mind. This would be my moment. I thought of the tides.

All at once, Chuckles stopped and ducked. I, caught in my own heady meanderings didn't notice till I almost tripped over him. He locked his eyes on mine. "We got her Claire." I inched up over his head to a clearing, like out of storybooks, out of myth, a space open, bathing in the moonlight.

It was my bather, my find. A moose, an Alces alces, the biggest deer I've ever seen. Standing. She just stood there, immobile; maybe she was as amazed with the night sky as much as I was. Maybe she was waiting for the sun, or her son or lover. As she remained motionless I crept closer and closer, I could smell her pungent mud, dirt, filth stench. I could see her gnarled fur, bare snout and armor-like antlers. They looked like bone breastplates, like parachutes, like atomic bursts. I wanted to reach out and touch them, believe they're reality, but I restrained for a few more seconds of untainted view.

I couldn't hear Chuckles rustling anymore; I questioned whether or not he's was there still, or if this was all mine. She turned. Saw me. Perhaps she knew I was there the whole time and was just letting me in. I held my breath. Oh radiant Beast, I thought, she was huge, towering over me, her rolling eyes piercing my skin.

In a moment, like wind, like passing breath, like fall to winter, she was gone. Moved like paintings, like a zoetrope, yet, I could only watch her leave.