Member-only story
Don’t Confuse the Waves for the Current
When I was 13, I stood less than 20 feet from a mother moose and her calf. I was with some friends from Boy Scouts, hiking above our camp in the mountains, when we stumbled onto a meadow and saw them grazing.
None of us knew how dangerous that encounter was.
We were kids — curious, loud, and full of bad instincts. We walked away quietly, “borrowed” a head of lettuce from our coolers, and tossed it in her direction. I don’t remember if she ate it or just kept staring. One thing, though. I’ll never forget the stillness.
Thankfully, she didn’t charge us. She just stood there. We were studying her and she was studying us.
It was a peaceful moment that could’ve turned violent without any warning. She made the decision for both of us, and thankfully, that was to turn and walk away into the trees.
It’s probably for the best that we never saw her or her calf again.
It’s been a long time since I’ve thought about that experience. It wasn’t a storm in my life but it had all the ingredients to become one. We were fortunate. None of us had any idea how protective a moose can be of its calf.
The experience seems like a good analogy for life: sometimes quite on the surface; underneath, the potential for or an actual, violent storm.
