When its snow storming, itâs a good idea to probably just stay home. Stay off the roads and lay low. Read a new book, one on Minnesota moose or maybe bake a cake. Since I donât bake cakes and after three days of over cooking my own noodles I needed to get out of here, and go to there. There, is anywhere but here. I set the book down.
And the next time someone tells me moose arenât to smart in the book I was reading Iâm gonna tell them a thing or two. As a for instance, did you know moose donât use snow shoes. They donât have to. They are big critters with long, long legs. They can handle any snow depth Mother Nature throws at them. Oh, and if it snows too much they lay around doing nothing until the snow stops. They seem to be just fine with that. Not like me who had to go find something to do. They just stay bundled up in there big brown furry coat and do Zippo.
So when the snow stops the âbig dumb mooseâ of recent literary fame donât get up and start shoveling sidewalks or go to the grocery store because someone like me is out of eggs. They just mosey over to the local brush and browse. I bet it tastes just like corn flakes without the milk, which reminds me, Iâm out of milk too.
On my feet are snow shoes. The moose trotting across the logging area is probably laughing her sides off at how I look. She was just laying there chewing her wintry cud when shush, shush, along comes me. All was well until the last step. Thatâs the step before I got to take the photo of a lounging moose, and ended up with me getting a fresh perspective on just how cool snow down my neck really feels when itâs 17 above zero.
What makes a guy who is tired of say, staring at here, think, staring at there, is suddenly a better choice or idea. Well no one could ask me since the roads arenât plowed and nobodyâs coming here, when there snow-blind and bound over there, so once again thinking Iâm smarter than the average moose, I opted for, If you have had enough of looking at the inside of your home, the only logical thing to do, is go look around outside, right?
I was doing splendidly until my left snow shoe tangled with some two year old aspen regen challenging my laced footwear to a wool sock hop and take me down with only a large lethargic and quite possibly simple minded moose as my lone witness.
My neck is full of snow. My choppers are full of snow. In trying to right myself and I get a wonderful winter surprise, itâs a handful of frozen moose pie. Moose pie is what I found in the cameras eye, when I got vertical as opposed to horizontal again.
I didnât get the photo I wanted. The fresh snow bath was a crisp brisk change I can assure you. I have a totally new appreciation for how quick and agile a moose truly is and finally after seeing over there, I decided it was time to go home again and maybe stay there. When I get home Iâm throwing out my new moose book because I think the guy who wrote it, is full of moose poop.
The trout Whisperer
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