I had a family session down at FMC park yesterday in the evening. FMC park is a huge piece of land that borders on our town that people use for long walks in the outdoors and running their dogs and fourwheeling and just all around outdoorsy-ness. And when I say borders on our town, I mean like you turn off one of the main roads and go down a long hill and you're there. Anyway, Julie, the mom, wanted lots of fall colors and grassy areas so we traisped out into the yard and got some fabulous color.
As we were walking back to our cars, which we had left down the road at different places where we had stopped to take photos, one of them whispers, "LOOK!!" To the right of us in the grassy-ness was a HUGE bull moose about 30 yards away. He was way taller than me, even at that distance, and had a full (set, rack, whatever) of shovels.
We stood there watching him for a half-second, just long enough for me to get these shots. Then Gary said, "I don't think he's very happy with us this close." Sure enough, the moose started snorting and stomping his hooves and walking toward us.
Now, this family is a hunting family. They love to fish and hunt and ride dirt bikes and all manner of outdoorsy stuff. I, on the other hand, have successfully shot a pop can off a fence with a hand gun . . . don't tell my mom . . . and that's about the extent of my outdoorsy-ness. I like to camp but only in places where I can be relatively sure I won't be accosted in my sleep by whatever manner of beast is hovering outside my tent, etc. All that to say - I know nothing about moose. But now and again I am struck with a good helping of common sense that says if the people you are with (who do know animals) are getting worried about the mental state of the particular animal you are admiring, the right thing to do would be to make sure you outrun them to the car. Gary took off running for his pickup and the rest of us, including Josey carrying her 2 month old baby girl, dashed into the bushes and behind whatever fallen logs we could find. I've never run so far forwards with my head swiveled backwards looking for any signs of movement. We stayed in the brush until Gary came back with his truck, squealing the tires and kicking up a ton of dust to try to scare the moose away. He hollered that he could see the moose heading for the opposite bank of the river and not in our direction so we piled in the cars and took off.
I LOVE my job!
Disclaimer: Contrary to what the title may lead you to believe, no moose were harmed in the writing of this post. No people were harmed, either.