Wake Up Call

Yeah, so, apparently we have become a bit complacent about the wildlife in our backyard.

Our first winter in Alaska was spent dilligently checking and re-checking the yard, driveway, and any other outdoor space for our favorite furry, antler-laden creature. Of course we had few problems then, probably because we were looking so hard for them.

By now we have come to a love-hate relationship with moose. They eat the garden, we shoo them away. They provide winter entertainment, we have something to show visiting family and friends. As long as they refrain from stomping their feet all overy our tender human forms, I am content, for the most part, to allow them their simple pleasures.

This morning we realized just how relaxed we had become in our moose-vigilance. It nearly cost our doggie his face.

The dog's early morning constitution usually lasts about, oh, 30 seconds. Yukon let him out around 7 a.m. and the sound of his paws running back up the stairs outside did not immediately bring me to the sliding door. Hmmm. Odd. Perhaps he dug up an old bone, not unheard of.

Dark outside (of course it was, it's always dark now), I nonetheless peer into the backyard and notice Dog is staring at the fence, on point (at least he tries), ears and hackles up. Uh oh. I call, he looks at me. I call again, he turns slightly towards me and again points. Crap.

At this point I decide to call Yukon, who brings a flashlight, smart man. Donning his Crocs and carrying the flashlight, he calls the Dog, who now begins to bark frantically. I was just putting on my own boots when I hear "Oh, God, there is a moose and it's right HERE!" along with a few other expletives that probably woke up the entire neighborhood.

Helpful wife that I am, I shouted "Well, grab the dog and get up here!" Easier said than done because Dog did not have his collar on and without it is more slippery than a snake, especially when trying to avoid his owner.

Meanwhile, Mama Moose, who had been resting next to the neighbor's trampoline, slowly rises to her feet as her Baby, curious of course, begins to point his own nose towards Dog in what I can already tell will be disaster. Yes, there is a fence, but a 4 foot chainlink fence is not, and never has been, an effective ungulate deterrant.

Yukon is chasing and yelling, Dog is barking, I am swearing, and the Moose are trying to figure out what to do. Finally the Dog goes upstairs where he promptly tries to climb in my lap, shivering. Yukon follows and tries the same.

Moose X 2 peaceably decided to eat the neighbor's raspberry canes in a show of diplomacy and hung around long enough for us to wake up Bear. 30 minutes later, they left to finish their breakfast elsewhere and Dog returned to his kennel to regain his composure. Yukon, well, let's just say that a romp around your backyard in your flannel pants and Crocs wasn't the best way to start a workday.

Caught Red-Handed

Or is that red-hoof-ed?

Monday morning brought a lovely sunrise and the appearance of my garden-poachers, who, I found out, were double trouble. Mama and calf did the circuit of the neighborhood, catching my attention just as I was going out to retrieve the morning paper.

They wandered through Neighbor's yard, where Neighbor and son were also moose-gazing, then went back to the garden to catch a few bites of anything they may have missed last week.

Mama and company spent about an hour in various yards before making tracks towards the park. Bear and I saw them again yesterday morning at the kids' bus stop. Maybe they were headed to school?

Seen My Garden?

I must be in the wrong house. This is not my garden. My garden is a lovely swath of dirt with splendid growth of brussel sprouts, cabbages, and rows of multi-colored beets that would be the envy of the 'Victory Garden' cookbooks.

Above are two photos. One shows a helpful Bear working dilligently with me yesterday to weed, thin, and prepare the last of the garden produce for harvest; including those lovely, lush, and plentiful brussel sprouts. The other photo shows the same garden this morning, after a very naughty creature spent the night feasting on what must have been a delightful salad of said vegetables.

We were awakened around 2 a.m. by the growls and barks of Jasper, who normally sleeps through fire trucks, earthquakes, and crying children. This time, though, he would not settle down, even after I walked through the house peering out windows and doors to see if indeed some intruder was stalking the property. Didn't see anything, so I declined to let the dog out and instead took us both back to bed, where occasional growls still rumbled for another hour.

Yukon was firm in his belief that a moose had been in the yard, based upon recent sightings in the Anchorage area now that autumn is here. Like clockwork, the moose seem to know that now is the time to move into the neighborhoods, where they will survive the winter on the fruits of our labor.

Taking Bear to preschool this morning I was momentarily sidetracked by the skeletal remains of my brussel sprout plants. It was not until after lunch that Bear and I took a closer look at how much he/she really did eat. The other cabbage, every single brussel sprout leaf, most of the kale in the garden and front yard, and all but three of my beets. Nadafinga.

We spent about an hour plucking the baby brussels off the stalks, trimming the three beets and gathering up the rest of the rubbage for tonight's Moose Dinner Impossible, since I am sure he/she will be back.

This time, though, I'm releasing the hound, who, despite his own shortcomings today, (he ate half a loaf of blueberry bread and trod upon my clean white floor with muddy paws, does deserve some credit for trying to warn us.

So, It's Winter

Hmm, it has been snowing on and off all day long. Wet, heavy, not-fun-to-walk-in snow that clings to our hair and feet and makes walking on the decks kind of dangerous. Just ask the dog.

Our final indicator that winter is indeed here came on the way to church this morning, as we noticed traffic at a standstill on one of our busy cross-town streets. This only happens for one reason in Alaska; indeed, there were two moose, a cow and an older calf, trying to figure out on which side of the street they wished to be. I have said it before; moose are just as scary standing still as they are moving, as one never knows when they will decide to do just that. Back and forth across the median they went, finally entering a neighborhood where I am sure they figured they wouldn't have to make any decisions more complicated than choosing a tree to nibble upon.

We saw another on our way home, but on the highway in the middle of a snow squall. the dumb young bull wanted to go across the four-lane road NOW, and just couldn't grasp waiting a second more. I hate when they do that; I do not want to witness any moose-car collisions so soon into the season.

Church had a group lunch today after services, and the aroma of harvest bean, chicken noodle, and even coconut thai soups wafted around. A wonderful way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Time to break out the crock pot around here.

Buzzed Bullwinkle

It appears that Anchorage's propensity for tipsy folks walking the city streets is not limited to the human kind.
Our resident moose, and we have several hundred who just seem to hang out in their own 'hoods, sometimes venture downtown to snack on tree branches in the wintertime. This particular bull participated in some early holiday fun one recent afternoon by ambling his way to our Town Square, calmly munching away at the branches while Anchorage-ites did their best to avoid him.
Remembering that moose can become characteristically grumpy for no particular reason at all, the fact that he was downtown in the middle of the afternoon, and in such a public place, a certain kink in normal operations took place. Everyone knows to give moose, especially the big guys, a wide berth, which can bring life to a screeching halt. Schoolchildren know to go another way or wait it out if moose are in their path, cars on the highway will idle while a moose ambles up the center lane, and most of you know of my story last fall when I was forced to drag my mountain bike 50+ yards down the muddy beach of the Coastal Trail when a rutting bull charged me.
So, among a public flurry of reorganization, this fine ungulate specimin continued eating from the tree, and in the process managed to take a string or two of LED lights with him, adorning his antlers like Chevy Chase in "Christmas Vacation". Finally, having had enough of the looky-loos, he changed course and, dragging the lights behind him, sauntered towards a more suitable venue for a man of his stature; Bernie's Bungalow martini bar. Ah, the ambiance of Bernie's seemed to suit our friend just fine, especially since Bernie's also has a large crabapple tree in their stylish garden area out back. And late-season crabapples, to boot.
Adorned with lights, chewing on the now-fermenting crabapples, the moose lay down in his own private nirvana and proceeded to get smashed. Eyes glazed, he watched the curious moose-watchers with the sort of expression one would expect to see at a Grateful Dead concert.
Eventually the Fish and Game officer, who apparently is an expert in dealing with drunken wild animals, arrived in time to see the Buzzed Bullwinkle nodding off to sleep, little lights twinkling merrily, in a cozy nest of leaves. He called him a cab.
Check out photos at www.adn.com, plus a number of other Anchorage moose photos.