I popped another Praline into my mouth and sipped my coffee, reviewing the list of weaponry: Sticks & stones; Brooms; Pots and pans; Remote panic button; Slingshot; Scented soap, candles and mothballs; Hammer and shovel; Deer repellent; Air Bombs; Paintball Guns. I re-read the list, crossed off Paintball Guns, and added Soccer Air Horns.
Thirty-odd years ago moose in this neck of the woods were a novelty and a welcome source of food for the freezer. These days, however, while many community residents might find a cow moose and her newborn calf a captivating sight, a moose tearing up stalks in a potato garden doesn't engender the same feelings.
So, the question is, where did these beasts come from, and what's to be done about them?
Moose aren't native to the island of Newfoundland, but wildlife officials estimate that since they were introduced to the province their population has grown to about 120,000. Point the finger of blame at John Connell of Bartibog, Miramichi, New Brunswick. According to internet sources, he lassoed and shipped two cows and two bulls to Newfoundland in 1904-and the rest is history.
Not only are moose creating havoc in the communities, they are quite capable of launching themselves into traffic, killing and maiming inattentive drivers. The Save Our People Action Committee is lobbying St. John's, as we speak, to do something about moose on the highways.
Our closest moose-vehicle encounter happened to Len early one morning on Rte 437, when a moose jumped onto the road, performed a classic U-turn halfway across, and fell heavily against the side of the car. When Len checked the car, the scratches from the cow's hair were actually imprinted in the paint!
In the community of Ship Cove, Elizabeth and Hedley Andrews have tied scented soaps and candles to their trees, honked their car horn, and clapped their hands to repel the moose. "But they just look at us like Wal-Mart greeters," she remarks, explaining, "They look at you like they couldn't care less." The moose have decimated the squash berry trees; there is nothing left, and Elizabeth would like to know if anybody has counted that cost. "Everybody used to clear up their supper dishes and go for a walk after dark, but not any more; the moose are too unpredictable," she says.
Some local people have defended their property with sticks and stones; some have used chunks of firewood. Others have used the remote panic buttons on their vehicles. And Garl Andrews says he tapped an old iron shovel with a hammer, which seemed to work, but not for long.
Len and I didn't really mind the moose until they pruned our new red maple tree, leaving nothing but a twig. Once, I clanged pans at a moose as it tore up my grass; he got up off his knees and gawped at me, his mouth going like a lippy teenager, but he didn't leave. Next, we bought four air bombs, which promised very loud aerial detonation, and set two off in the back yard. The two moose, grazing on the edge of the property, looked up at the loud bang as if to say, "What's the matter with you?" and kept right on grazing.
Ross and Iris Decker have gone to great lengths to repel the invaders: hanging chimes, fragrant bars of soap and mothballs in their trees. Iris says, "We ordered deer repellent from Ontario and sprayed the trees. I don't know if the spray made any difference, though." But Ross argues it ought to have. "It's right bitter...it's a liquid spray...me and Brian got it on our lips when we were spraying. It's some bad...some job to get it off!" The latest weapons in their arsenal are two supersonic sensors, ordered from Ontario. "They're triggered by motion and emit a sharp sound that only the animal can hear," explains Ross. "One sensor covers an area 4000 square feet and, since we've had the sensors, neither moose has come over the hill."
Dealing with the moose problem on the northern peninsula reminds me of the story of the monster, Leviathan, mentioned in the book of Job: "Indeed, any hope of overcoming him is false."
In the meantime, our next move in the Big Fight might be to order some of those Soccer Air Horns from South Africa; they give off a sound like a hive of angry bees. Methinks, though, with the escalating cost of combating these local hoodlums, we ought to be billing Wildlife, or the Government, for all the damages-and the gadgetry.
And, while we wait for the authorities to figure out what to do about moose running riot in Newfoundland, perhaps we can meditate on these words from Emma Graney, a newcomer to the province: "Moose? They make great sausages!"
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