Wayward moose

An image generated by me, to portray our yard at twilight

(employing the true photo of the sojourning moose)

Here in Maine, our moose population is commonly understood to be between 40,000 and 60,000, and even a head count of 70,000 is entertained.  The moosiest state of the contiguous 48.

But Noah and I do not live in a moose-rich region. In fact, our area does not even qualify as part of the peripheral band of moose territory. We are in no-moose land.

We visited the Moosehead Lake area in spring of last year, for the express purpose of moosing. The locals amiably shared their take on the best routes to explore (near bogs, lots and lots of bogs), and everyone took care to remind us that moose are crepuscular. This most excellent vocabulary term and descriptor suggests that you best do your seeking at dawn and dusk, when these massive animals are reputed to be out and about.

Noah and I enjoyed good fortune that weekend. We viewed a cow, a yearling, and a fine bull moose; three separate viewings. It was every bit as wonder-filled as a person might expect.

Here at home, with exactly zero moose anticipation on board, imagine the childlike elation upon learning from a neighbor, earlier this month, that a moose was just sighted doing a tour of our backyard.

A handsome bull, perhaps two years-ish in age. On his quest for a lady friend.

Though we did not have the one-of-a-kind joy of viewing the backyard moose ourselves, we have others’ photo captures as keepsakes.

Noah thoroughly enjoyed photo-documenting the tracks.

And we winked at the fact that this fellow — as snapshot time stamps indicated — enjoyed his grand walkabout at midday.