Baby Moose

So I'm in the kitchen making chicken cacciatore for supper, when Kerry calls from the living room, "There's a moose in our front yard. Two. Get your camera." Well, this was a big deal. Kerry grew up here from the age of seven, and had never seen a moose on the place. They'd come through the front gate (I'd have seen them if I'd looked up from my chopping and stirring), eaten from our willow trees, wandered over to our fence line, crossed the county road, and climbed the hill across the road.

I grabbed my camera, threw on the long lens, and went bounding across the front yard after them. No shot through the trees. I ran out to our driveway and into the county road where I could see them. Here came the school bus down the hill toward me. I was a bit concerned about the bus sliding on the wet snow toward me, but more concerned that it would frighten the moose farther up the hill. It didn't. Walking up the hill, I was able to get a few shots. This was the best of the bunch, of the calf.

As the actress playing Miley Cyrus on SNL would say, "It was pretty cool."