That familiar June blue sky was tolerating the cloudy, dismal streaks of gray that teased with a storm threat. I sat behind the wheel of my convertible, my unruly, tangled hair oblivious to the sudden damp wind. The weather was kind one day and grumpy the next. Didn’t we deserve at least two pleasant days in a row?
I decided to drive home then and reluctantly reached forward and pressed the button that controlled the rising and falling of the convertible’s soft top. I was looking for a long break from the clouds, the rain and the gloom that had somehow won the battle yet again. I guess you could say that I was feeling quite sorry for myself and I was tossing the current soggy weather right into my sorrow basket, along with everything else that was breaking me down. I used to love the rain — especially summer rain with its steamy, sweet, flowery aroma. But enough was enough.
I rolled my window down and dangled my arm out onto the upper part of the car door, softly tapping my fingers to the song on the radio. My radio would only pick up the FM stations and my CD player had long ago decided to take a leave of absence. I decided that repairing it would somehow disturb the authenticity of this unique automobile.
With no warning, a dark shape emerged from the side of the road and I quickly turned my radio off. It was a moose standing there before me. She was dark brown. My first thought was how healthy she was; her long legs strong and sturdy and a nearly black mane outlining her neck. She was a familiar sight, and to some like me, each encounter with one was mesmerizing. Of course, two babies followed close behind her, often weaving themselves in and out of her legs. She would glance back at them briefly, her eyes quickly inspecting each of her little charges.
I sat there in my car, barely daring to breathe. One of the babies held back for a moment, turning completely around to stare at me. Within seconds, the mother turned and gently nudged the curious little one into the long grass that bordered the road. The other little one stepped into the long grass as well and the mother joined them both. Within seconds, the three of them were swallowed up by the thick tree branches.
I waited for a few minutes, not daring to turn the engine on or move. I had to get home, as it was getting late in the afternoon and I had been gone longer than usual. I glanced over at the opening through the trees that the moose had taken, and I felt privileged to have witnessed these beautiful animals crossing the road. There was something almost surreal about those moments they drifted before me. I had seen many moose in my lifetime, and I had taken photos and shared my experience with others. This sighting was much different, however; it belonged to me. The world stopped spinning for just a few seconds. There were no phone cameras flashing, no voices, no loud music blaring from a wounded car radio. And no daredevils choosing to speed past all of us, tooting their horns with the pedal to the metal. There were no news breaks; no wars or rumors of wars. All was well on that secondary road.
I haven’t had an experience quite like the moose encounter. When there is inclement weather in Aroostook County I think of deep green grass, vibrant trees, breezy summer nights, lupine fields as far as the eye can see, lavish potato blossoms, pure white snow trails and crimson foliage that smothers the hills with fire.
Belinda Wilcox Hersey lives in Caribou with her husband, Kent. You may email her at belindahersy@gmail.com.
