Moose

I know I have spoken of moose before on this blog.  They are a feature of life in my neck of the woods.  Not a daily feature, but they are around.  

My knowledge of moose is the occasional sighting and that 3 yearlings once stopped on my back deck and ate plants in my flower bed.  Mr. Needles knowledge is considerably more. 

He has a lifetime of accumulated knowledge.  He avoids sharing his knowledge of such things because him telling me about moose gets the same bleary eyed response as when I try to explain to him the thrill of watching thousands of simple knit stitches coming off the tip of a needles to make a sock.

Last night, when I got home from work, Mr. Needles was watching 

a show about this guy calling moose...  Seriously. I usually tune such things out, but for some reason, this guy caught my attention.  So Mr. Needles patiently explained what the TV guy was doing.  The show was called The Rackman.  He was calling moose.  

Now as some of you know, calling an animal means you make a sound that will attract a moose who is looking for a mate or a fight to your location.  

Rackman was doing a really good impression of a moose. Listen carefully.  That chuffling huffing sound in the background , yes, the little sound akin to someone clearing their throat, is the moose.   

I have always wondered if moose were the last animal the good Lord made. They seem to be made of leftover parts. Legs that are too impossibly long.  Antlers that are too huge.  A nose sized for something even bigger than they are.  

And a little sissy call.  

Fills me with mirth.