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I have absolutely been trapped in my cabin in northern Idaho by a moose - well, not trapped, exactly, but moving around verrrry carefully. I named my moose Phred when first I saw him, a cute little moosling, come into my yard with his brother and his mama four years ago. Phred is all right, but he's a wild animal and hence dangerous if he's spooked - what the hell, so am I. You gotta understand that stuff if you live up here.

Now, I am most unlikely to break out the firearm I'm nearly always carrying and dispatch my bud Phred, first because he provides a rather unique form of security - he likes to sack out in the front yard and believe me, nobody wants to go past a security moose. Second, because he's entirely inoffensive, and thirdly, because if I did I'd go from having a live moose in my front yard to having a dead moose in my front yard. That's a rather different set of problems.

For one thing, gutting and dressing a moose is not like gutting and dressing a deer. You can pick up deer with your hands. With a moose, better have a derrick. And be quick about it, because the meat is spoiling, and oh by the way, there's always that Fish and Game dude that pops up at the most inconvenient times. "Uh...what...what are you doing?" "I'm butchering a dead moose, sir. Watch out for the gut pile." It is at that point that the intricacies of state game law intrude on an already messy situation. Not to mention that if the feller doesn't come along the best case scenario involves several hundred pounds of moose meat next to the tater tots in an already crowded freezer. Sure, I can rent a meat locker if I'm quick enough and somehow transport human corpse-sized bundles of bleeding moose meat to wherever it turns out to be. Even in northern Idaho that occasionally will make eyebrows rise.

Besides, I like Phred even if he did deposit little piles of souvenirs in the newly melted side yard last weekend. If I'm lucky they'll freeze so I can shovel them away, if unlucky, well, the rain sort of melts them into a horrible goo somewhat reminiscent of cake frosting but not tasting anything like that...or so I am told.

But oh, my word, Phred has growed up - he's beautiful if you can call a critter made of God's spare parts beautiful. I guess I don't mind having him around after all.