I’m back from my blissful vacation on Nantucket Island (above.) I missed all the excitement back home in Maine. A moose went OVER the dam in town. That’s a good 30 foot drop in high rapids down to sharp rocks.
Amazingly the adolescent moose survived the fall and climbed onto an island. He munched some greens before swimming to the bank of the Androscoggin River. The incessant rain in Maine this summer had raised the water level. Lucky moose (photo by Troy R. Bennett for The Times Record.) It was a big story in our local paper.
I heard about the moosecapade from my neighbor, author Cynthia Lord. In her blog Cynthia quoted a Maine warden:
“It’s just one of those moose that’s a year-and-a-half old, and trying to learn to be a moose. He hasn’t really figured it out yet."
My woods have only chipmunks, squirrels and birds, but my neighbors had some fun guests. This vixen denned in their woodshed for several weeks while raising her kits (photo by Robert Rand.) We’ve only once spotted a fox in our yard in town.
To see wildlife in abundance, you need to drive 2-3 hours north from the coast. The North Woods of Maine have only a few dirt roads, lots of lakes and plenty of black flies. The interior is almost unpopulated and 90% of the entire state is forested.
My son is hiking the Appalachian Mountain Trail from central Maine to the peak of Katahdin (tallest mountain in Maine.) It will take three weeks. He’ll turn 15 on the trail. And, no, my son doesn’t have a mistress in Argentina like Governor Stanford. Talking about wild things….
When my son was little, his favorite story was Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak. It got to the point where I could recite it without looking at anything but the fabulous illustrations.
“The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved good bye….”
Where the Wild Things Are is being turned into a movie:
Sleep well and Happy Birthday, wild thing!