Moose Quest - part I

Living in Alaska has its pros and cons. One of the pros is the fishing and hunting. Unfortunately, I did not get my share of the fish this year, and so, the mission to fill the freezer for the winter has turned us toward moose hunting. I have lived here seven and a half years and have yet to take advantage of the big game hunting opportunities offered to the residents of this state. I've always imagined hunting to be, well, scary and hard. Turns out... it kind of is.

These are the chronicles of my quest for my very first moose.

The first thing I did, was go get myself a new Bowtech Diamond compound bow... in pink camouflage. You know, so I can blend in easily with all the pink out there in the wild. It's important to blend in. I'm betting it would also come in handy at the Crabtree & Evelyn annual Pink sale. It has been several years since I've owned a bow, so I thought it would be good to get in some target practice, just to make sure I still knew how to shoot. Did I mention it had been a while since I owned a bow? The first thing you should know when you shoot a bow that you haven't sighted-in yet, is to aim at a spot LOW on your target. This knowledge came to me after I lost my first arrow. It is somewhere in my neighbors yard... I think.

Once I was all sighted-in, (a fancy term for getting your bow to shoot where you are aiming) my next step was to learn about field dressing a moose. I spent a few days reading the pertinent information provided in "Dress 'Em Out" The complete guide to field dressing, transporting, and processing big game, upland birds and waterfowl. I also watched DVDs and YouTube videos about field dressing and processing large game animals. And while the information I gleaned was quite graphic, and very thorough, I cannot help but feel that the real thing is going to be soooo much worse. Why so pessimistic you ask? Well, the thing is... I'm not a big fan of dissection. At Thanksgiving, I usually put on rubber gloves when I have to reach in the turkey to pull out the neck and whatever else is in that nasty wad of guck they shove inside the turkey. And even though I know how economical it is to buy a whole chicken, I opt instead to go with the boneless skinless variety, so I don't have to play "chicken biology class" in my kitchen. I can only imagine how I will react if in the process of gutting a moose, the stomach should get punctured. The subsequent smell combined with the visual already at hand could quite possibly induce the sort of projectile vomiting that inspired the makers of the Exorcist. I guess we'll just wait and see.

The night before our first hunt, I collected *ALMOST* all the necessary hunting paraphernalia and loaded it into my pack. (* I discovered immediately upon arrival at our hunting spot that I had not remembered to include my arrow release. I was sad and disappointed to be relegated to "token hunter" for the rest of the day.) My husband was going to use his rifle, and I was set to use my bow... sort of. Our plan was to head out before dawn so we could get to our hunting spot before the moose began stirring for the day, so we went to bed early the night before, in order to get enough sleep to be alert and ready for our hunt. However, my brain thought it would be more fun to think about how important sleeping was, than it would be to actually go to sleep. So, I lied there, just thinking, about getting good sleep. When the alarm went off at 4 a.m., I had been asleep for three hours. I could tell the day was going to be stellar.

I fumbled into my clothes, remembering to put on my wool blend socks and enough layers to keep me warm, knowing that keeping warm was going to help the time spent outside in the crisp autumn Alaskan air be more enjoyable. So we headed to our chosen spot and, I was soaking wet up to my knees in under 3 minutes. To be fair though, NOWHERE on my awesome waterproof boots did I see ANY label that read: "Hey idiot: these will only keep your feet dry if you don't stand in 2 feet of water!" Really, some warning would have been nice, people.

We shortly figured out that our chosen location was not going to be ideal for moose hunting. Even though we did find signs that moose had been in the area, the ground was total marsh for as far as we could see. Neither of us wanted to try to gut a moose that could very likely be half submerged in water once down, so we went on to plan B.

Plan B took us to a beautiful spot where there were lots of large game trails. We saw signs of both bear and moose, and followed what looked to be a promising trail that led us to what was clearly a regular watering hole of our desired prize. That was when I heard a noise that immediately put my adrenal glands into overdrive. The sound of a bear from behind you is indescribable, so I won't try to do so. I was instantly acutely aware of how unarmed I was. I was REALLY wishing I had remembered my arrow release. Fortunately, I have the indian tracking skills of your average New York City native, so I'm pretty sure the bear heard us, and decided to leave us alone. We spent the rest of the morning in a good "waiting" spot, but did not see any actual moose and eventually decided to call it a day.

We made the trek back to our truck fairly uneventfully. And so ends the first entry in the chronicles of MOOSE QUEST.

Tune in next week for Moose Quest part II

Stealthy Admirer...s

Once in a while I'll hear a story about how some lucky girl got flowers or gifts from a secret admirer. And I'll admit, it used to cause a ping of jealousy inside of me. I got flowers once from a "secret admirer" ... turned out to be my mom. That was disappointing. But recently I've had a whole paradigm shift that has caused me to choose to be more of an optimist. You see, I realized that I am awesome. And that being the awesome person I am, I must be attracting the highest quality of secret admirer possible. Like, Secret Service, Navy Seal, Ninja secret. These guys are so secret, I'll probably never know they exist. And they don't do piddly things like send flowers, not these guys. These guys are out there doing things like stabilizing the local housing market so I can sell my house if I want to, or fixing the hole in the ozone so I don't get skin cancer, and directing the salmon swarms up the river at the right time so that if I ever go fishing, it won't be a waste. So, go ahead and get all giddy excited over your soon to be dead bunch of roses, girls. I'm not jealous. I'm pretty sure one of my admirers planted the "wild" lupines on the side of the highway where I run... just for me.

Are you ready???

Look, just because we didn't know we were living through the tribulation for the last 23 years, doesn't mean it didn't happen. I mean, when you think about it, a lot of pretty bad stuff has happened. There was hurricane Katrina, PB oil spill, Tsunamis and earthquakes... AND, I broke my pinky toe last year and that REALLY hurt.

Everybody knows the earth was created on May 21, 11,006 BC. It says so right on the website. And if you would just use your logical deduction skills, and do the math you would CLEARLY see that the rapture is scheduled for 6:00 p.m. tomorrow. That's 5:00 p.m. Pacific Standard, because as we all know, God was on the American 8-5 work schedule.

And, those of you who think you ought to go out and party like it's 1999 tonight, might want to rethink your priorities. Is your house clean? Is your fridge emptied of all its expired foods? Have you cleaned out all the empty coffee cups and fast food wrappers out of your car? Well, you might want to. You don't want all the post apocalypse looters to think you were a slob when they come pillage your home now, do you?

Did I do everything on my bucket list? No. But I don't have enough time left to run a marathon and see baby sea turtles hatch in the Galapagos ilands AND vacuum the dog hair out of the intake vents.

Cheering me up

I'm down. Depressed. In the dumps. Whatever you want to call it, my feelings are not all warm and fuzzy. I'm okay with not feeling okay, for a while. It's probably healthy to experience short bouts of melancholy from time to time.... maybe. I dunno. I'm not a shrink, but I'll give that statement a 67% chance of being true. I'm also not a professional speculator (it's a real job, look it up), but I can live with the 33% chance that my statement could be untrue.

After that while, though, I get tired of feeling blechy, so I begin to put as much mental exertion as I can spare into figuring out how not to feel crappy.

I have learned there are a few ways to beat the blues. One of them is to count my blessings. I'm not really in a Tiny Tim kind of mood right this minute, so I'll take a pass on that one for now. Another way to feel better is to do something nice for someone else. You know, like send someone flowers, or end world hunger. An optimistic estimate of time for flower delivery is at least 18 hours, and I'd really prefer more instantaneous recompense. As for world hunger... well, if you're hungry right now, come over and I'll make you a sandwich.

But what else can fulfill my need for a rapid spirit boost? Well, here's what I've come up with. I will make a list of compliments. You choose one, or more, or all of them if you wish, and apply them to yourself. I feel that this is the fastest and most efficient way of getting the results I'm hoping to achieve. To wax poetic: My compliment gun is loaded with buckshot and you are the flock of penguins at which I take aim. And look, if you've got a problem with me shooting at penguins, well, we probably aren't very good friends.

Here goes:
1. Your hair looks nice.
2. I like bald heads.
3. Red hair suits you.
4. Brown hair suits you.
5. Your butt does not look big in those pants.
6. You are great at your job.
7. You didn't deserve to get fired from your job.
8. You have very neat handwriting.
9. You write like a doctor.
10. You smell nice right after you've showered and applied the deodorant/cologne/perfume that is compatible with your body chemistry.
11. I like your smile.
12. I appreciate your ability to find the humor in yourself when I am laughing at you.

And I mean each and every one of those from the bottom of my heart. Thanks for helping me cheer myself up.