A Moose of a Different Temperament
By Senior Conservation Officer Roy Kinner
When my boss tells a story that starts with, “It was a cool crisp morning…” I know that he is beginning to spin a yarn. This true story started out on a cool, crisp morning. None of the names have been changed to protect anyone. It was one of the little highlights of my career as a conservation officer.
I was headed off to do one of my backcountry lake patrols that I strive to do at least twice a month. We often patrol high mountain lakes checking fishermen and making our presence known to recreationists all over the wilderness. People really don’t think they will be checked in such remote places. I find it very satisfying to see the surprised reactions many give me when I introduce myself and ask them for their fishing licenses.
I saw that there were two vehicles parked at the trailhead to Moores Lake in the Gospel Hump Wilderness. As I packed up my day pack and supplies for a short hike of three miles down to the lake, I opted to throw in my pack fly rod just in case I got the chance to sample the cutthroat fishing in the lake. Most of the time the fish don’t disappoint me. I checked the stream going into the lake; so far nobody was seen and nobody was heard. I got to the lake about 11am and checked the entire shoreline with my binoculars. Lo and behold, nobody was visible, nobody at all. As I checked the shadows on the east end of the lake by the inlet, I spied a lone cow moose wading and feeding in the shallows.
I checked down the west shoreline some more and saw no one. Just my luck, I hike all the way to the lake, and nobody to check. What is a game warden to do? Go fishing! I walked slowly and deliberately over to the mouth of the inlet and noticed that the cow moose was about 75 yards away. She lifted her head, turned my way, paid me no mind and went back to feeding. I set up my fly rod, took my boots and socks off, and waded in to my thighs. This went on for about 45 minutes as the moose and I enjoyed the lovely day. I had been thinking…wonder if she had a calf this year? I wondered where the little one might be hiding.
About that time I heard a snap of a twig behind me. I looked over at the cow moose and she was still feeding with her head underwater. Then I heard more commotion behind me as my blood ran cold. Coming directly at me from less than 50 yards away on trot was Junior, the calf moose. Seems Junior wanted to see how this fishing thing was done. I waved at him, yelled once to let him know I was not his momma, and then looked back at the cow. Well, Momma wasn’t about to let me give the youngster a fishing lesson. She came boiling out of the water running straight at the calf. She cut the calf off just 30 yards from me…sound like a short distance? Yes, it was. I paced it off later.
I made my mind up that there was no way for me to get to the trees, which were behind her and the calf. So I set my fly rod down next to a log in the water and told myself… “if she steps over that log, and comes into the water, I am going to test the theory that I can still swim underwater away from her faster than she can stomp me into...” I didn’t really get to finish that
statement. She stepped into the water and laid her ears back to tell me… no fishing with Junior today!
She started toward me. I said out loud to her, “I believe you Momma. I am outta here!” With that, fully clothed, sunglasses on, duty pistol on my belt and fishing vest on, I went swimming. I swam as hard as I could for about 20-30 yards, and then dared to look back. Momma and Junior were still standing where I had left them. I could tell she was impressed with my swimming abilities. Now what? I treaded water for about a minute and she calmly gathered up Junior and stepped back onto shore. Then she stopped and looked back at me again, gave a snort, then moved away into the lake and swam to the west shore, occasionally looking over her back to make sure I wasn’t going to try anything stupid.
I swam back to shore, picked up my fly rod and wished someone had a video camera going to document me out-swimming a moose. No such luck; still nobody else at the lake. I took off my fly vest, laid it out to dry, took off my duty pistol, took it apart to dry, then gathered up my fly rod and went back to fishing.
I supplemented my income in college as a lifeguard, water safety instructor, and first aid instructor. I was a certified diver for many years before taking on my present duties. I never thought I would have to retain those abilities for this kind of duty.
I fondly remember that encounter every time I hike into Moores Lake now. I will always have a place in my heart for Momma and Junior when I fly fish the inlet.
Senior Conservation Officer Roy Kinner patrols the Grangeville area of central Idaho and thankfully is a good swimmer.