IN THE WORDS OF MY DAD circa 1950

A story told by a Dad to his Son… in 1991

I thought I was dreaming. I pinched my arm, it hurt. It wasn’t a dream. I was really much younger then. I was hiking through the bushes. I walked past someone’s old camp – I could see no one had been there for awhile. The snow was fresh from the night before. As I kept walking I saw a clearing just past some small trees, through the branches. I could see a big pond in the clearing. It was covered over with ice.
 

I stopped in some brush and I put my backpack down. I sat down. After awhile some snow started to fall down. Not too much, I could still see the pond. I ate some bannock. I didn’t want to make too much noise. It was getting a little colder.

Just before the sun went down I heard something coming through the bushes. Was it a deer or a moose? I knelt down and watched. I took out my rifle to get ready. The first thing I saw was his rack. It was a bull moose. His shoulders were nearly as tall as me. He stopped just before the pond. He looked around for a minute. I watched as he started to hack at the ice on the pond. I stood up and aimed my rifle. When I was ready I took the shot. I’m usually really good – a straight aim – but I think something spooked him and at the last second he turned. I didn’t hit him where I needed to.

He reared up and he was really mad. He saw me standing there. He was bleeding. I was trying to get another shot but my gun jammed, He charged at me. I threw my stuff down and started to run. That’s when all the fun started.

I was running as fast as I could and all I heard was him right behind me. I saw some two-by-fours lying there on the ground. I picked one up and kept running. I saw a trail ahead of me and I started to follow it. I heard the moose behind me.

The trail lead me back to the pond. I knew there were no trees high enough for me to climb. The only thing I thought of was I better get on the ice and take my chances. I wanted to see what the moose would do.

He stopped. He saw me standing on the ice. We looked at each other – eye to eye. I could see where he was still bleeding. He stomped his good foot into the ground and began his charge. I watched as he made it across the ice for awhile until he was pretty close to where I was standing. I kept backing up. The ice finally gave out under him. He went down. I saw him go in. I crawled on to the ice with my two-by-four and started hitting him on the head as hard as I could. He was splashing around and I was getting scared I’d go in with him too. But a few times after hitting him, he didn’t make any noise. I was tired. But I was glad. I thought to myself it was a close one.

The funny thing later on is when he and I were looking at each other…I swear he had a tear in his eye...that he was crying. When I finally got him to the trees, I stopped to thank him for giving his life, so I could feed my family.

Moose track photos by Roz Dotson, 2006