Moose of a Lifetime
"My grandfather has never seen a moose."
Every year, Marcie took her grandfather on an outdoor adventure for just the two of them. It is their special time together to stay connected and build memories. This year was his 91st birthday. His legs weren’t quite as capable, his energy level not as high, but his spirit was strong.
Marcie had hired
RMNPhotogrpaher Tours to show them the wonders of Rocky Mountain National Park. As we had headed into the park, she had whispered to me, “My grandfather has never seen a moose. If you could find us a moose…?”
The pressure was on. I knew we saw moose on many of our tours, but it was certainly not guaranteed. Still, I wanted her grandfather to experience seeing one of Colorado’s shiras moose. They are both dynamic and intimidating while being beautiful and bold.
As our tour moved into Horseshoe Park, I was hopeful for an early sighting. Would a moose be in the meadow, or better yet, Sheep Lakes? Would it be a simple moose sighting from across the meadow, or would it be a “moose experience” with a bold, full antlered bull moose close enough for cell phone pictures? I wanted it to be a “moose experience,” so I searched the meadow to no avail. No moose experience as we moved past “Horseshoe Park.”
We made it up the Alluvial Fan where they listened intently about the flood of 1982. As the car began to trudge up Old Fall River Road, I told them of Enos Mills and the history of the park. Eventually, we made it to the ranger cabin in Willow Park. As there has often been, I hoped a moose might be grazing on the willows…a “moose experience” for sure. Instead, a bull elk strolled through, likely searching for a harem to gather as this was the fall of year.
At the Alpine Visitor Center, Marcie’s grandfather stood in awe of the view, asking the name of each peak. I offered a weak apology for not yet seeing a moose. I knew our best chances had passed us by, but he waved me off his hand reaching out as if to torch the mountains. “How can you not be inspired by this?”
Driving down Trail Ridge Road, I still hoped we might find a moose, maybe at the Beaver Ponds or Sheep Lakes where an afternoon moose feeding was not unusual. The bulls would dip their heads in the water to find the moist aqua grasses, lifting up as water rained down from their antlers. That, I thought, would be a treat for this 91 year old traveler.
Moving From the Trees was a Huge Bull Moose
The drive down was fun and conversational as I shared unique tidbits of RMNP information. Rounding the curve passing Hidden Valley, I looked into the opening of the grassy area. Startled, I pointed. There, moving from the trees was a huge bull moose, its antlers a tint of red from the shedding of velvet.
For a moment he paused, and Marcie gasped, lifting her cell phone as she snapped images. Then, just as quickly, the massive bull moose turned running into the golden Aspen trees. Her grandfather was bouncing in his seat, excited to have seen a moose. Not just seen, but this one had been fairly close and quite impressive.
At the next pullout, I turned around, and Marcie looked at me curiously. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Where he’s going,” I told her.
Driving back, I turned into Hidden Valley, moving halfway down the parking lot. There, we stepped outside of the truck, and Marcie helped her father with the big step down. I told them, “Stand here beside the truck. There’s a stream right down there that the moose often follow. If we’re lucky, we’ll see him.”
A moment later, I saw the tip of his antlers moving among the willows along the creek. Pointing, I instructed, “Watch right there.”
As we watched, from below the hill appeared the giant bull moose. Massive and dynamic, he came over the rise, his chest with a powerful thrust as he walked. His antlers were huge and intimidating, a hint of velvet still lingering.
I heard Marcie’s gasp, then her father began jumping up and down, or at least jumping as a 91 year old might. “This is great,” he spoke out loud. “My first moose and he’s a big one.” His cell phone up, he pushed the button time and time again.
For the next few minutes we watched the magnificent bull moose walk through the grasses, move down near the creek, rub his antlers against the bushes to free them of the remaining velvet, and head up the valley following the creek. All the while, my 91 year old guest talked on. Excited over the moose’s size and presence, RMNPhotographer Tours had given a 91 year old man a wildlife thrill.
Marcie thanked me, so appreciative as her father asked, “He was a big one, wasn’t he?” I answered him truthfully. “Sir, that was the moose of a lifetime.”
