This is not my writing but a friend's. We have rekindled our friendship after 25 years apart and I am so happy to see she's writing. Just a story but a great one.
We take ourselves, our lives, too seriously and often become too engrossed in our day to day to take notice of the small struggles that go on all around us. In my lifetime, often like clockwork, I am sent a reminder that I’m only a minute part of a much greater plan. It was on a dreary, damp June morning that I was sent my most recent reminder.
In June of 2005 I lived on the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, on a sparsely populated stretch of road overlooking a wharf populated lobster fishing boats sitting on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. While struggling with an ever growing list of household chores and preparing for my sons graduation and move from home a visitor stumbled up my drive. While we have our share of lost tourists asking directions to the nearest gas station, this visitor was in need of a little more than direction.
I was annoyed at my dog, a young and over zealous border collie, for what I believed was yet another round of misdirected barking. I had been slower, of late, to check on the object of his aggravation, but after a few minutes I looked out the front window to see a small, awkward and very newly born moose calf barely navigating her way up the hill to the house. I ran to the door to bring the dog in and away from the calf, not an easy feat as he danced around the calf being both protective and curious. Once he was in I continued to observe the calf from a distance secure in the knowledge that her mother was soon to follow and I was not about to interfere with the new family. Her fur was wet and her ears seemed yet to shake the creases gained in the confined space of the womb.
After a few minutes I woke up my son so he could see the calf before her mother reclaimed her. Taylor sat right up to look out his window and was rather amused by the sight. He got up and wandered out to the kitchen door to put on a pair of sandals and investigate, and was duly warned about keeping an eye and ear out for the mother and not to get too close. When he went outside he swore he could hear branches breaking in the woods behind the house so he just watched the calf from the steps. As he watched she gave up on struggling with her, as yet, uncoordinated long, lanky legs and settled in beneath a boat and trailer that my brother had left beside the house a few weeks before while visiting.
My partner, Spencer, returned home from an early morning golf game but the car pulling up the drive didn’t jar the animal from her resting spot. He walked to her and spoke to her to see if she would respond, she turned her head a little but seemed very tired from whatever ordeal she had faced that morning that lead her to us. We stayed in the house for a couple of hours, only coming out once to take the dog to the wharf in the car to stretch his legs, keeping him clear of any trouble.
She had been out there more than six hours and had not moved when we thought we should check on her once more. Spencer got within a foot of her and talked to her again, this time noticing a small cut on her chest. She seemed to have little energy and only barely raised her head before going back to sleep.
It was Taylor’s prom night and we needed to drive him to North Sydney, some 45 minutes away. Dressed in his kilt with all the trimmings he was ready to go, I was very proud, but the pride was shadowed by worry as we left the house not to return till late that evening. We often hear the howl of coyotes in the woods behind us, and I hoped that the calf would not fall victim to their nightly prowl. Pulling out of the drive I hoped with everything I had that the mother would return when we exited the scene to reclaim her newborn calf.
We stayed at Memorial High to watch the grand parade of all the graduates in their prom dresses and suits and I danced the first song of the evening with my son, a great tradition indeed. Taylor would be staying in to enjoy his prom and ‘safe grad’ afterwards which would go till dawn.
Unfortunately when the festivities were over for the parents I had a long drive home to think about what we might find upon our return. I was sure the calf and its mother would have reunited and returned to the woods, but I knew that if that had not happened we faced a problem.
Ten thirty we arrived home and I could not see her, but the short distance up the hill to the house left her revealed there in the long grass, exactly where she had been when we left. All I could muster was grief because her lack of movement led me to believe that she had, without a doubt, passed away while we were in town. I’m sure at the time that Spencer felt the same way but he went to her without a second thought and began to talk in a calm even voice until, finally, she lifted her head once again to turn to look at him. Only a moment later she was on her feet, turning towards him, ‘Well’ I’m sure she thought, ‘I’m awake, now what?’
He continued to talk to her but turned to head toward the house not realizing that she had begun to follow, not only staying behind him but close on his heels. He stopped, she stopped and waited for his next move. He continued only to stop once more and turn as she wandered past his leg rubbing against him a display of affection I had only witnessed from domestic cats. Spencer had to laugh at this and he remarked at the time that his hunting buddies would have a good time with this if word of him making friends with a moose got out. It had continued to rain all day and into the evening and it seemed a good idea to me that we get her in out of the elements for the night. Dismissing my first request, that being that she sleep at the bottom of our bed, Spencer did not find the second idea as outrageous, that we get her into the shed behind the house. A blanket that we kept in the car for the dog was placed in the shed on the floor then in the light from the our headlights I tried to lure her towards into the shed while Spencer got the dog out of the house to relieve himself while the calf was distracted. My voice seemed to alarm her and she panicked, running into a pile of lobster traps stored in the shed and tangling in debris behind them. Once the dog was straightened away Spencer had to come and pick up the calf to free her legs and bring her to the blanket. It was at this time that we had an opportunity to have a look at the wound, some two or so inches, just through the skin, but very open bring fears of infection.
‘There’ I thought, ‘that was easier than we thought’, she was settled and we could go in for the night. We rubbed her head to calm her and headed for the back door only to discover that she had begun to follow us once again. My suggestion that Spencer stay in the shed with her that night was enough even to make me laugh and left him shaking his head and smiling. If she had warmed up to me I certainly would have made my bed there on the floor, but I suppose half of every couple has to represent sanity! She followed us to the base of the stairs and we went inside, my heart breaking as I heard her bleating like a lamb and hoping we might turn around. Once we closed the door she seemed to wait for a few moments then slowly walk back toward the shed and shelter.
Once inside I made a call, though it was late, to the Department of Natural Resources number, and after a little redirecting was able to speak to someone in the closest town who was on call. It was disappointing to hear that nothing could be done until the next day at noon when they had more staff coming in. This government ministry is but one more victim of continuing cutbacks. They would call me then to see if the calf was still around.
It was a long night, or so it seemed, as I thought of what she might be thinking. What had she been through this morning? What had her newborn eyes witnessed in their first few hours of life? What had happened to the mother that kept her from returning? She was hungry, of that I was sure. I had a feeling that she had not had a chance to nurse at all since her condition when she arrived brought me to believe that she was born only that morning. I have always given animals human thoughts and traits, and now, in a mother’s heart, I ached for the lonely, confused newborn in the shed. This little beast seemed so desperate to connect with another living being. If each of us came into this world alone how would we make sense of the world around us and who we were? I was sure that she had to wonder why she was here if she were destined to wander on her own, little more than bait for any wandering predator that might catch her scent.
Most of my chores that day had gone undone, and the truth be told, I had little concern for laundry and any cleaning that desperately needed to be done. She had given me a little, very much needed perspective. My life had not been an easy one in passing years. I had moved here to be with Spencer some two years before. My home was now a place where jobs were few and far between when in the past they had always come easily to me, and where I struggled to be accepted, as yet unsuccessfully. As this small animal lay injured and hungry so close to my own bed I had to be thankful that my challenges were few when compared to hers. Though it sounds cliché I was thankful for shelter, for food and for, what I think, is the love of the most wonderful man in the world, indeed, I have it all…..
Hours of thought and worry ended with an hour or so of fitful sleep ended abruptly by a phone call from Taylor at five am requesting a drive home. Feeling very much hung over without having had the enjoyment of any alcohol I pulled on jeans and a sweater and headed out to the car. I could see the outline of a little furry body above the floor of the shed, she was still asleep, or? I was relieved to see her come to her feet when I started the car to go.
Taylor slept most of the way home and giving me a chance to think about what I might do to find help for the calf. By the time I made the driveway I knew that I had to try to feed her at least until something could be done. Taylor got out of the car and went to see her. Spencer by this time had left to meet friends for a 6am tee off time in Ingonish. She seemed calmer today, following both Taylor and I as we left the shed and making enough noise to let us know that she had enjoyed enough time alone and rather enjoyed our company. Taylor was dead on his feet after a long night of foolishness and no sleep but he stayed with her when I went inside to look at the feeding issue. Warm milk poured into the thumb of a rubber glove with the remaining fingers taped up out of the way proved to be of little help, though she would lick the spray it created off her chin and the grass, she could not take it in her mouth. She preferred to suck on Taylor’s fingers and seemed to find great comfort in doing so. It was no use, without proper equipment I was stumped.
She followed as we, once again, headed to the house, Taylor to retreat to his bed for some much needed sleep, while I went on to my next plan, a call to my vet. It was only 7:30am but I had hoped that there would be a vet on call, and, happily there was. The answering service would contact Dr. Claudette Theriault and have her get back to me. When she called she was ready for a question about my new collie, something easy for this hour of the morning! I told her about my predicament and the inability of anyone at Natural Resources to help me out at this time. She was sympathetic but not sure what she could do. She was booked to go to another clinic for the morning in Port Hawksbury and she knew that the vet working in Baddeck that morning, Dr. Donna Buckley, was completely booked and to busy to respond. Her solution caught me by surprise, if I could get the moose into the clinic they could feed her and tend to her wounds. It hadn’t occurred to me to transport her myself but I wasn’t’ one to back down from a challenge. I was indeed thankful that I did have an option, and more thankful yet that Spencer was off golfing and couldn’t’ be, once again, the voice of reason.
I paced the floor, walked out to look at the moose, then returned to see what I could find to put a moose in. It was about this time that I realized that I couldn’t take the moose in the car on my own, though I did entertain the thought temporarily, in the end poor Taylor would have to be pried from his bed. Easier said than done, Taylor was curled into a ball and already fast asleep with the blind drawn. It took ten minutes for me to plead my case and throw in enough mothers guilt to get him to leave his bed. He was a bag of misery but I could deal with that if we could get this done.
In his lounge pants and an old T-shirt he helped me to corral the calf into an old duvet cover and tie it in a big loose knot around her neck, something the vet recommended to keep her from flailing her legs while being transported. A second precaution, a big blue plastic sheet covered the bag, she had developed diarrhea so this protected my back seat and Taylor. I then lifted her and endured some wild protesting on her part as I placed her on the back seat of the car, my son sliding in behind her.
No time to waste as I grabbed my wallet, started the car and headed down the driveway onto the road and into Baddeck. Taylor rubbed her head and talked to her, but would fall asleep, the quiet caused her to lift her head off the seat and bleat loudly in protest. I took over, talking while I was driving trying to keep a steady banter going to keep her calm. Mother talk it was, talk used to comfort a young child, and it worked. I got distracted by a driver ahead of me on the road and she let me know very quickly, I began again, “Oh dear, oh dear”, then correcting myself, “Oh moose, oh moose”, my son grimaced.
Two cars ahead of me, two convertibles with U.S. plates on them, were driving well below the speed limit in an effort, I’m sure, to sightsee. The Englishtown ferry runs across a channel between St. Ann’s Bay and the ocean and the five minute ride takes about 20 minutes off the trip into Baddeck and seemed my only choice. When I got to the ferry the tourists were still ahead of me, the moose was losing patience and Taylor, as he was apt to do, was getting car sick. I parked the car in the lineup and walked ahead to talk to them. Asking if I could pull ahead of them so I could get off the ferry quickly because I was delivering a moose to the vets in Baddeck elicited a raised eyebrow to say the least. They were kind enough to let me go, but only, I think, because they didn’t want to detain a deranged woman. Once I had pulled to the front of the lineup they walked to the car to survey the scene and shook their heads in disbelief. All I could do was laugh and continue to reassure both Taylor and the moose that the trip was nearing its conclusion. The ferry workers were amazed and sympathetic, seems it was the first time that someone had brought a live moose onto the ferry in the backseat of a car!
Off the ferry and up the road to the main highway with no time to waste completing a forty minute drive on a foggy morning with an unwilling passenger, well, actually, two. It was 8:45 am when we reached the vets clinic, it didn’t open till 9am. I had been told that Claudette, the vet on call, would not have a chance to warn the vet working in the office this morning of this arrival, so I was ready for anything.
Talking, humming and waiting till a van arrived around the side door and a few moments more till they got inside and opened the door, seemed an eternity. The second the door was unlocked I got out and made for the stairs.
“I’ve got a moose in the car, can I bring her in?”, I heard the words coming from her mouth and could scarcely believe them myself. The receptionist nodded and smiled looking as though she was expecting to be part of some elaborate practical joke. The smile turned to shock as I made the top of the stairs with an armful of moose, bleating and upset, she really did hate to be carried, must be a moose thing.
After standing there so she could survey the scene, she pointed toward an examining room and I carried her in. Holding her on the table we were greeted by the vet, Donna, who was coming though the door to see what the fuss was about. She was understandably taken aback but she watched while I showed her the location of the wound and told her how I had come to be in possession of a moose. We agreed that she might be calmer on the floor so I took her down and removed the covers. There she stood, calm, quiet, very accepting of a rub or a pat on the head. Her big brown eyes watching each of us as we talked about her and what should be done next.
They would stitch her up and check for infection but the wound seemed pretty clean and she seemed in pretty good overall health. A call was made to find formula and a bottle to finally get something into her empty belly and I began to calm down, slowly. I realized that I had been running on adrenaline and worry and could now feel my shoulders drop as I had finally found help for Millie, yes, we had a name for her now.
We said our goodbyes and were reassured that we would be contacted with any news. I guess if she were male I could say that I was passing the ‘buck’…..but I knew that her face would stay in my mind and I would worry about her for some time. Taylor slept all the way home only waking to stumble to his bed. Spencer returned from his game hoping that the Department of Natural Resources had come to get our visitor. All he could do was smile when I finally told him the real story, but he’s come to expect such things from me. The roller coaster ride will always have interesting loops for us.
The vets office called later that day to let us know that she was stitched up and taken to the Two Rivers Wildlife Refuge on the Mira River and they were very happy to have her, she had a home, I was thrilled.
One week after she was taken to Two Rivers they called to tell me she was doing well, gaining weight but not out of the woods yet, a funny thing, I thought, to say about a moose! Two weeks later a reporter from the Cape Breton Post called for an interview, I never did find out how they heard the story but it appeared, complete with a photo of her in her new home, she looked wonderful.
Living in the country has afforded me not only the luxury of peace, but the opportunity to observe life and understand what living truly is. The pace of life here allows us to slow down and observe the change of the seasons, harsh reality of nature and the difficulty in facing challenge and adversity and, most of all, the joy of living. I may become discouraged once again but my next obstacle will arrive just in time to remind me that without challenge we will never truly know what it is to be alive.
