Yesterday was the end of hunting season as we know it, that is the season in which it’s legal to take the trophy moose, the big guys, the ones who are the best of the breeding stock. I’d like to write a book about what goes on around here and call it “Of Moose and Men.” This book would be from the perspective of a large bull moose who lives in the Matanuska Moose Range.

I did not see any dead moose in the back of pickups or on trailers. I’ll bet that the majority of those out hunting would not know what to do with the carcass if they killed it. The others would be prepared, but these individuals do not hunt around here because they know that the area is heavily populated.

I wish that I was better able to express my ire about the situation here. I just don’t get it and will never get it, that is why wanton slaughter of game is considered to be virtuous. It’s what men do, but why? Might they be given drugs so that they might instead go out and harvest high bush cranberries? I’d get a grant and get them all dosed.

So there is moosey moosey. There is also mousey mousey. Yesterday Cherokee Jones (yes this is her real name) and I were at the sorting table – she was talking, and I was cleaning books. We saw the mouse, by the front door, at the same time.

Cherokee said it was a female mouse, pregnant, and looking for a place inside, so as to build her nest. She added our place was perfect because the books are a good source of nesting material.

Cherokee said that we should get a sticky trap, and in this way catch the mouse. I said no. Recall that I once attempted to free a mouse at VCRS, the recycling center, and I got bit. I also said that was no way to treat a pregnant animal. I told Cherokee all this and she said that the mouse would come off the trap if I used vegetable oil.

I then had a great idea. I said that I’d post a sticky note, one that read “Mousey, mousey, go away. You aren’t wanted here.” I knew as I said this that I’d have to be more specific and tell the animal where to go because otherwise, mousey mousey would have no directives.

I thought Cherokee, who believes in that which is improbable, would think this was a good idea; however, she didn’t bite. She said that the hole could be plugged up with a scrubber pad.

I didn’t say it, but I thought that if we are going to make the leap into literacy, that using the written word to get rid of the mouse was a good idea. I then, and still do think, that if we were successful, we’d be eligible for some pretty hefty grant funding.

Moosey Moosey, Mousey Mousey – I say live and let live.

Next: 265. 9/27/23: Good Omens