Bountiful Nature's Sacred Gift,

The morning was crisp and cold as the first light sifted through the evergreens. Ashley got there before the dawn and settled into his sheltered vantage spot, awaiting more light to begin his trek deeper into the dark forest.

He'd read about how the natives fashioned a moose call out of a cone of paper birch bark and he'd made one just for the hunt. He decided to give it a try, put it to his lips and made the sound he'd heard many times before--the mewling sound of a bull moose in rut. Within seconds the call was answered, and then the crashing sounds of antlers raking brush.

He made the call again, and again was answered, but the sound was farther away, higher on the mountain. Slightly dismayed, he made a third call. Suddenly a bull moose came crashing out of the forest and onto the road, drool dripping from its mouth, antlers rocking back and forth in a challenge to its unseen rival.

The moose stood sideways in the road. Ashley rose, took careful aim and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit its mark but the bull barely noticed. He turned and began to charge, antlers to the fore, barely fifty yards away. Ashley aimed and fired again. The moose staggered but didn't fall. He kept coming. It took the third shot, directly in the heart to fell the courageous beast who finally gave up his life to feed another.

This account sounds brutal to those who do not hunt, and yet this is how it is in the real world. Life feeds upon life. My son now has enough quality food to nourish his wife and three children through the long winter. There is something holy and authentic about feeding yourself from the environment you live in.

Ironically, his wife is vegetarian and their meals are largely meat free. They still refuse to eat chicken, pork, beef and lamb, and other commercially raised animals, but they make an exception to wild game. They eat fish from the river; lots of salmon and trout. They eat venison and elk and even marmot, which when prepared properly is a true delicacy. While they have not mastered the art of using every part of an animal, the way the natives used to, with every new animal taken, more is utilized and less is wasted.

A moose is not an easy animal to butcher. It weighs several hundred pounds. It must be drawn and skinned, halved and then quartered. It's heavy, bloody work. Each segment is then stripped of sinew and tendon. Each cut of meat must be recognized so that the tenderest parts aren't mistakenly ground into hamburger. Then it must be wrapped, taped, labeled and frozen or smoked.

The day of this butchering was warm. The yellow jacket wasps or meat bees as we call them, were out in force, trying to get their fair share. Ashley got stung six times before this moose was finally skinned and quartered and put into temporary storage boxes. Though I helped throughout, I did not get one sting. I made a pact with the meat bees long ago. Don't sting me and I won't destroy your civilization. Ashley laughed when I told him that when we started. He wasn't laughing so much when we were finished.

It appears that this moose was having a bad day all around. When skinned out, we noted a deep puncture wound in his left hindquarter. At first we though it was an exit wound from one of the three rounds Ashely had shot, or perhaps a bullet fragment wound. But Ashley was talking to a taxidermist friend who told him that he often found either wounds or scars on the hindquarters of moose. Apparently, when moose battle over their harem, the first one to give up the fight often gets his butt jabbed by the victor as he turns to flee.

So not only did this poor moose get shot on this day, he got his ass kicked to boot. Perhaps if he'd not been so adrenaline fired and angry, he might have been a bit more discerning when he heard that birch bark moose calling him into battle. Maybe there's a lesson here for all of us.

At least this moose gave his life for a good cause. He wasn't killed on the highway by a logging truck, nor did he get bogged down in a swamp and drown. He's now feeding my grandchildren, making them strong, protecting them from hormone, pesticide and antibiotic laced factory farmed meat. And that, I'm sure, will also benefit my great grandchildren.

Two freezers totally full. We are ever thankful for this bounty and will praise this noble beast with every delicious bite. Nature is indeed a loving mother.