The moose I encountered on Wednesday (see Yet Another Moose Encounter) came back Thursday.
Dang, but he’s big! I don’t think we’ve ever had any bulls in the yard that we’ve been aware of. If we have, they’ve been calves. This guy’s tall and well muscled.
And yet, he seems a melancholy, poetic soul. Perhaps even sensitive?
I know I shouldn’t anthropomorphize, but it’s hard not to. Watching this big ol’ Bullwinkle wander around our yard, finding a small mouthful of browse here and there. The lashing wind and rain soaked him; occasionally he’d shake off huge sprays of rainwater. When I yelled at him from the porch, he seemed offended. He moved down to the front yard, where he stood for long minutes, staring at the window.
He’d interrupted me in the middle of an important job at the computer, so I tried to go back to it, ignoring his gaze, which fluctuated steadily between seemingly hurt dejection, and Stink Eye. When he tentatively reached for a bud from the cherry tree, I jumped up, shouting, “No, no, no!” until he moved away.
When he arrived, I had been enjoying the newly-acquired Tallis: Complete Choral Works on the stereo. I began to wonder if I couldn’t come up with something to drive the moose out of the yard.
Moose, particularly the males, have incredible hearing. I think that’s why the fog horn has been effective against them. That thing’s so loud that I plug one ear before blowing it. If I have time, I put in a pair of earplugs, so I can blast away at full volume. Unfortunately, to a male moose, the timber of the horn may be too close to his language, a mixture of a cow’s love call and a male rival’s challenge. It’s loud enough to repel, but may be strangely attractive at the same time.
I grabbed a favorite old CD, Van Halen’s first, eponymous album. I shoved it into the stereo, and turned it up loud. Then I opened the door. One of the finest examples of late ’70s hard rock boomed from the speakers, vibrating our windows and pouring out into the yard.
I love this CD, although I’ve not listened to it in a long time. If you’re unfamiliar with it, perhaps you’re a fan of the movie, Back to the Future. Eddie Van Halen’s guitar solo, Eruption, is the music Marty McFly threatens to melt his young father’s brain with if Dad doesn’t get off his butt and start courting his future wife. It is, in the parlance of its day, blistering.
You should have seen those hackles raise! The moose mohawked when the music started.
Maybe it worked a little too well. I realized that we wanted to leave, but hesitated to cross the doorway. I shut it off, waited till he’d passed the doorway, then I hit it again. By the time I’d stepped out onto the porch to look, he’d disappeared completely.
For good measure, and for the sake of nostalgia, I let the CD play. As I said, I hadn’t heard the CD in years. Like my nastiest looking knife or my revolver, this album sat in the rack, lethal and beautiful, waiting patiently for when it was really needed.
I seem to have found a method of driving moose away, and it makes me dance, too! I don’t see the downside here. Do not mess with me, moose. I’m an ex rock jockey! I got hours of this stuff!
Incidentally, I know the title is a misquote (aside from “annoy” instead of “sooth”). I learned it first as a kid from Bugs Bunny’s pun. When I first heard the actual quote, I thought it was a hilarious Freudian slip.