Written June 8th, 2019
This was the first national park where we required of each other bear spray as an everyday carry. In fact, when driving into the park, we came across a bottle of it lying on the road, so we opened the door and grabbed it and immediately felt safer, both of us now being equipped with our own.
Wild Running Moose
Joe is behind the wheel of our Sprinter van home and we’re traveling Route 2 in Montana. We’re en route to East Glacier National Park, and it’s Memorial Day now 2:30pm. We spent the morning doing a foot tour of Apgar village, followed by showering, eating eggs on bagels, more self-grooming and then RV maintenance: cleaning dishes, sweeping floors, and moving out of “camp mode” (passenger seat turns forward and hiking boots go on sliding door step). We’re hoping to accomplish a short 3 mile hike around Beaver’s Lake Loop before driving south to Helena, our planned stay for the week of work that lies ahead.
While sitting in the passenger seat, listening to an audiobook (Becoming by Michelle Obama), I see something out of the corner of my eye: a large animal running on the grassy margins of Route 2, to the left of our vehicle, and keeping pace with our moving wheels!. A horse!? No, it’s a moose!! It’s got humps for a back and a face with more round edges than long angles. And behind this running moose is a tiny baby, too, trotting along at its own miniature full-on pace. WOW!!! Joe doesn’t see this moving display of nature right away as his attention is drawn to the podcast in his ear.
“JOE! Look! It’s a moose!!”
His head turns left and he simultaneously pulls off the road and onto the grass –– the big and little moose run back, far into the woods. Joe caught a last glance, enough to feel the magic happenstance of it all.
“What a lucky encounter,” we gush.
Together we’ve now seen a moose three times in the wild. The first was in Maine 2011 as we drove to a mountain ski house to meet up with my brother and his friends. The moose was stepping alongside the road gently as we drove. We passed it in the dusky gray hours, just before dark and it was huge.
The second time was in Vermont on the Long Trail. The moose was right there, 50 feet away and crossing paths with mine as I sought a good pee spot. I was terrified - afraid of her stature and size, and having just read warnings about their possible aggressiveness if caught unaware.
And the third time, of course, happened just now on the outskirts of Glacier National Park.
