I was on summer vacation with my family and we also took a 40 mile bus tour to Denali National Park. The scenery was spectacular, but as the guide said, you might not be too hopeful about seeing moose or bears, because our visit coincided with the time when these animals are usually in an aggressive mood.
Apparently, bears like to eat moose calves, and around the beginning of June, any surviving calves become fast enough to escape the bears, leaving the bears hungry. Moose mothers can also get cranky around June, having lost a good portion of their calves.
Moose are not carnivorous, but they will charge, kick, and stomp on anything they perceive as a threat. If you do encounter a bear (a real bear, not a meme), there are a few ways to protect yourself: Make yourself as big as possible, make as much noise as possible, and play dead. For a threatening moose, the Alaska Department of Fish and Wildlife advises to “run and hide behind a tree or other solid object.” Our guide told us that just the week before, she and her dog had come face to face with a huge, agitated moose (which can easily weigh over 1,000 pounds) and ended up having to hide in a neighbor’s greenhouse.
Believe it or not, the Alaska Department of Fish and Wildlife warns that more people are attacked and injured by moose than bears in the state each year. In Alaska, moose outnumber bears three to one, and moose injure five to 10 people each year, mostly in car accidents. That’s more than the number of grizzly and black bear attacks combined, but thankfully most people have the good sense to stay away from bears.
On the bus tour, you can technically see Dall sheep and golden eagles. I say “technically” because to the naked eye they appear as distant specks, even though the guides have video cameras with powerful magnifying lenses. We also saw foxes, but no big deal; in our Fairfax County neighborhood, foxes are so common that they snatch hot dogs from unsupervised backyard grills.
My wife and two teenage sons were itching to explore the mountains of Denali on foot, so we hopped off the bus. We were about two-thirds of the way up the Mount Healy Overlook Trail when my teenage son said he needed to go to the bathroom. I didn’t want to let him slip away. It wasn’t a question of foresight, but rather that it was best to keep an eye on anyone straying in the wild. The permafrost made the ground soft and spongy, absorbing the sound of footsteps.
Then, shortly after my son had finished relieving himself, I spotted a moose walking slowly toward us about 40 feet away. Or, as some have called it, a “killer horse.” With no antlers, it looked more like a black stallion on a strict steroid regimen.
I’m less than 20 feet off the trail, and less than a minute after I left the trail, and just had the very unfortunate encounter with a wild animal that is much larger than me at 6’2″. I don’t know if this animal is a female moose (the lack of antlers means it’s more likely to be a female moose), so it’s likely dangerous at this time of year. It doesn’t seem excited or angry, but I’m no moose psychologist.
Now, before our guide mentioned the moose warning, I would have been more intrigued than concerned and probably cracking a Bullwinkle joke, but now I found myself with my family and I having a close encounter with an animal about which our guide (who has had several encounters with grizzly bears) seemed genuinely concerned.
I called out to my family, my voice an octave higher than normal. It wasn’t primal fear, but rather the sudden, intense realization that I had no control over what happened next, and that the likelihood of an angry moose incident suddenly became greater than zero.
My son and I retreated to the trail, and our giant moose friend came out as well, heading down the trail toward the four of us, he didn’t seem angry, but he was clearly aware and not the least bit scared.
My older son, who got into Bear Grylls worship a few years ago, urges everyone to retreat slowly and quietly. Unfortunately, I’m not very good at the “slowly” and “quietly” parts. We retreat a little further, and the moose advances a little further. Remembering the advice to hide behind a tree, we retreat into the woods. The mosquitoes are excited by the arrival of a blood buffet for four. We peek outside.
The moose was still there, moving slowly in our direction. A big sign at the visitor’s center warned, “WARNING: Moose are very dangerous. Do not approach.” It said nothing about what to do if the moose continued to chase you like it was a party guest you were trying to avoid. We stood back to back and retreated deeper into the woods in case any of the other giant animals in the forest approached at the same time.
After a few minutes of the mosquitoes feasting like kings, our hearts pounding, and our adrenaline pumping, the moose lost interest and walked away. We headed back down the trail and spotted some hikers heading down the way we were heading.
We excitedly said, “Did you see any moose?”
Good thing I took a photo or no one would have believed me.
