Posted on 12/08/2013 7:57:17 AM PST by TurboZamboni
Edited on 12/08/2013 8:00:15 AM PST by Admin Moderator. [history]
Short AP articles must be excerpted to 50% of content.
(Excerpt) Read more at kcrg.com ...
Iowans, hide your sisters!
Aren’t most moose loose?
Some are quite chaste.
“Hello?”
“Hello. This is Observer 43 of the Iowa Moose Patrol (IMP) calling in with a spotting report.”
“Go ahead, Observer 43.”
“I just seen a moose.”
“Now, now.....let’s follow protocols. How many mooses did you see?”
“One. At least I think it was one. They kind of all look alike to me.”
“Keep your prejudices to yourself, Observer 43. What was the moose doing?”
“He seemed to be wandering about aimlessly.”
“Oh, a Minnesota moose. Was he wearing any Al Franken decals?”
“Not that I could see.”
“Well, good job, Observer 43. Anything else to report?”
“Yes. I saw four polar bears out by the interstate hitch hiking.”
“Was one of them wearing a blue evening gown?”
“Why.....yes.”
“Jerry! This guy has seen that bear in the evening gown. Sir, whatever you do, do not attempt to stop those bears.”
“What should I do?”
“I don’t know. Ask her to dance.”
“You want me to dance with a polar bear?”
“Hey. It’s Saturday night in rural Iowa. What else is there to do?”
Now that made me laugh! ;-)
Mooses or is it meece in Iowa? Who knew?
That’s funny too !
One morning, as I drove about 5 miles from the Whitefield airport, I encountered a huge bull moose on the dead run towards the airport. He looked really pissed, it was rut season.
I proceeded to the airport to see if George Graber was up to his old tricks again.
George was a retired airline pilot and retired moose hunting guide. He flew a small plane out of the Whitefield airport for fun.
A few minutes before I saw the moose, he had spotted it from the air, landed, and bet some guys around the hangar he could call it in.
A few minutes after I arrived, the big bull came crashing through the woods, heading strait for the hangar, snorting and pawing.
We all ducked inside for safety.
After trapping us in the hangar for a half an hour or so, the moose left.
These days, George is in that great hangar in the sky.
I used to enjoy taking him for rides in our Unimog on obscure roads he knew about and getting him talking about his old guideing days.
For some time Cyndy had been complaining she'd yet to see a moose although we had lived in northern New Hampshire for several years. We had two in our yard, but she wasn't around at the right time to see them. One had been right up to the kitchen window. I encountered on average one per night, sometimes several on my job or my commute.
We had yet to own a four wheel drive vehicle and at the time were using a Ford LTD II wagon as one would a 4X4.
We were up above Nash Stream road, about 15 miles or more north of our house on a logging skid trail when the drivers' side lower ball joint broke. I managed to chain the thing together well enough to get back down to the logging landing at Nash Stream road.
Shortly some local folks from Lancaster came by and gave us a ride home.
We returned that evening to remove the old ball joint to be ready to replace it in the morning after the auto parts stores opened.
I was sitting on an ammo can working on it, when Cyndy yelled over from the other car, "You'd better get in the car!" I was just asking why, when I began to feel the moose breath on my neck and right shoulder. Then the moose drool began to soak my shirt.
Moose are unpredictable. I've seen them very aggressive, or docile. You never know what you are dealing with. They can rear up in the air and come crashing down on you with their hooves and kill you. Bears know this, which is why full grown moose are not on their diet.
I figured the best thing was to just keep working and he'd get bored watching me eventually. Sneaking a peek over my shoulder, I noticed he was one of the larger bulls I've seen, with a huge rack.
Finally, he turned away and ambled over to visit Cyndy. She was frantically rolling up her window. He plastered his nose against the window, peering in at her. Then he did the same on the windshield. Cyndy got an up close and personal view up moose nostrils.
Having enough of the humans, he wandered off down the road. Cyndy rolled her window back down. I asked, "Are you happy now, you've seen your damned moose?" She was.
We hadn't seen the last of him. It was dark as we drove down the road. We came upon the rear of the moose as he walked down in front of us. The brush on both sides was thick and he had no place to go. He began to stomp and snort a little even though we were maintaining some distance. I was ready to speed in reverse if necessary if he charged. Fortunately a clearing opened up and he was able to leave the road, letting us return home.
Since then Cyndy has seen many moose, eleven in one evening, but that's another story.
You have a unimog? Cool!
Details are important when dealing with a singular moose or many mooses!
We all know about "a moose bit my sister" but this could be "a moose kissed my sister" or wife or daughter or whomever.
This has potential!
Good story by the way.
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