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I think I'm going to recount some of the more interesting vignettes from the trip -- or invoked during the trip -- as they occur to me. First off, a cautionary tale regarding moose.
Let's go back in time, oh, 30-40 years. There's a new second lieutenant from California assigned to Loring Air Force Base, Maine. He's been there for about a week and he's been given a few basic rules -- beware black ice, beware Canadian gas, double-check for flares and a spare tire...oh, and if you see a moose, DO NOT HONK AT IT. The LT is a bit perplexed by the idea of moose -- yeah, like deer, I guess, in the same way a bicycle is like a Harley Davidson -- but he takes that piece of advice with a nod.
LT's on his way home from the base, and maybe he's only a mile away in his jeep, when look what's in the road except a moose, huge even by moosie standards, with a mighty rack of antlers. The moose turns and looks down the headlights with supreme disinterest. The LT slams on the brakes and, purely out of reflex, slams down on the horn.
Now, the reason that the LT has been advised not to honk at the moose is because it's rutting season, and males can be very sensitive to challenges...or anything that might sound like a challenge. They guess that the moose took the horn honk as a threat to his masculinity. That seems to be a good theory, because instead of giving ground or backing off, the moose bent its head down and proceeded to charge the jeep, lifting his head and ripping the hood up and flipping it over the windshield.
The LT reacts in really the only possible way: panic. He draws his .45 and proceeds to fire round after round in the general direction of the moose, blindly shooting through the raised hood. I imagine him screaming and hurling epithets, but the lieutenant would not admit to such. It takes him a few minutes to ascertain that the moose has been incapacitated and that the jeep is somehow still operational....
The lieutenant, maybe just a bit rattled by dire combat with indigenous fauna, returns to the base in a blood-splattered and bullet-riddled jeep only five-ten minutes after leaving. He was fine, thankfully -- the only casualties were one moose, one jeep hood, a windshield and a few other sundry vehicular apparatuses.
It's very rare that I say this, but I would really, really enjoy doing the paperwork on this incident.
Let's go back in time, oh, 30-40 years. There's a new second lieutenant from California assigned to Loring Air Force Base, Maine. He's been there for about a week and he's been given a few basic rules -- beware black ice, beware Canadian gas, double-check for flares and a spare tire...oh, and if you see a moose, DO NOT HONK AT IT. The LT is a bit perplexed by the idea of moose -- yeah, like deer, I guess, in the same way a bicycle is like a Harley Davidson -- but he takes that piece of advice with a nod.
LT's on his way home from the base, and maybe he's only a mile away in his jeep, when look what's in the road except a moose, huge even by moosie standards, with a mighty rack of antlers. The moose turns and looks down the headlights with supreme disinterest. The LT slams on the brakes and, purely out of reflex, slams down on the horn.
Now, the reason that the LT has been advised not to honk at the moose is because it's rutting season, and males can be very sensitive to challenges...or anything that might sound like a challenge. They guess that the moose took the horn honk as a threat to his masculinity. That seems to be a good theory, because instead of giving ground or backing off, the moose bent its head down and proceeded to charge the jeep, lifting his head and ripping the hood up and flipping it over the windshield.
The LT reacts in really the only possible way: panic. He draws his .45 and proceeds to fire round after round in the general direction of the moose, blindly shooting through the raised hood. I imagine him screaming and hurling epithets, but the lieutenant would not admit to such. It takes him a few minutes to ascertain that the moose has been incapacitated and that the jeep is somehow still operational....
The lieutenant, maybe just a bit rattled by dire combat with indigenous fauna, returns to the base in a blood-splattered and bullet-riddled jeep only five-ten minutes after leaving. He was fine, thankfully -- the only casualties were one moose, one jeep hood, a windshield and a few other sundry vehicular apparatuses.
It's very rare that I say this, but I would really, really enjoy doing the paperwork on this incident.
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