Isn’t it funny that some behavior patterns don’t change? Like for instance, I always eat the non-yoked half of a boiled egg first. That’s what comes to me as I sit on a log, eating one boiled egg after another, awaiting the furtive moose that I’ve been calling since yesterday.
Why sit? Go after him, you might say. Well, yes that’s one way. Hunters have choices and I’ve tried that. You see, yesterday I found this place: fresh tracks, wide open shooting ranges, unobstructed views in three directions. No wind. Quiet! Beautiful conglomeration of willows, water, gravel and sand. No mud! It’s the place where I want to shoot a moose. Unfortunately, it seems that it is not a place where a moose wants to die.
Yesterday, I called and called here, sat in disbelief that the moose wouldn’t expose himself in this perfect spot. I examined the empty tracks, tracks of yesterday’s history making, hoping they would fill with moose before my very eyes. Disillusioned, I finally left.
In spite, I decided that it would be fitting retribution to the unslaughtered moose if I went for a “drive-by”… cruise the river, check out a few other spots with hopeful sign. Did that, no luck. Just loneliness and hopelessness. And because there was no better place to field dress a moose and load my boat alone, I came back before dark, set up camp, roasted three moose sausages on a stick (no dishes!), called and called, and was asleep by 10pm, knowing that Mr. Moose would awaken me in the morning.
To my dismay, he did not. I called some more, scanned till my eyes crossed, then started the fire. As I was boiling the eggs I thought, how convenient: hot water to drink, hot water to wash up with, hot water to boil eggs, and no dishes! Genius at work.
But now, the eggs are gone and it appears that the moose has also. I pack up, drink some hot water, decide that there is no point in wetting my face with the water when the rain and tears of the day will do that anyway. So I toss the water and head to the boat. I’ll search for the moose of circumstance, interrupted by a man of circumstance. You can’t linger over tracks. Tracks are a euphemism for life: you can’t dwell on the past. Time to move on and try something new. The next time I boil an egg, I’ll eat the yoke first.