Sleeping Dog
Adventurer
I've traveled through moose country on or in almost every motor configuration but a twin and a ten or twelve. The typical reaction of a moose has been to continue doing what ever they were doing. My first inkling that a single was a different beast was in Algonquin Provincial Park when I crested a rise to find a dozen cars parked on the roadside, the occupants observing several moose feeding in a marsh, oblivious to the presence of the tourists.
Until Crisco clattered up when the heads came up and the ears turned in our direction. After shutting down the moose went back to breakfast, till a log hauler came by and let loose with what might have been a 200 db horn.
Saddled up and on the road again another rise and a cow with a pair of calves crossing the road. Mom shot a look in my direction and headed to the bush with the babes in her wake.
Then last month on the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton, I reached the pass at the top of McKenzie Mountain and standing tall and proud on the center line was Bullwinkle. Figuring discretion is he better part of valor, I decided to wait till Bullwinkle decided dinner didn't exist on asphalt. Besides I once was greatly entertained by a well told bar tale of a moose taking out the front of a cab over semi on Hwy 61 north of Duluth that tried to nudge him off the highway, scaring the driver into the sleeper. A tale confirmed by a picture in the next mornings paper.
But not being known for my patience, I grew tired of waiting and tried the pathetic tweeter that BMW calls a horn. This was as hopeless as getting Rush to vote for a Democrat, but then I remember Algonquin. Gradually raising the motor revs to 4000 RPM and then twisting and closing the throttle.
That got Mr. Moose's attention and he started for ditch. While he was still in view but sufficiently distant that I was emboldened to motor on, I started out, only to have Bullwinkle run in a panic, parallel to the road for 30 or so yards before bounding off into the woods. A couple of miles further along another moose in the ditch intently looking in my direction and then bolted off into the trees.
If only 4 stroke singles were as efficient with mosquitoes.
Jim :ylsmoke:
Until Crisco clattered up when the heads came up and the ears turned in our direction. After shutting down the moose went back to breakfast, till a log hauler came by and let loose with what might have been a 200 db horn.
Saddled up and on the road again another rise and a cow with a pair of calves crossing the road. Mom shot a look in my direction and headed to the bush with the babes in her wake.
Then last month on the Cabot Trail in Cape Breton, I reached the pass at the top of McKenzie Mountain and standing tall and proud on the center line was Bullwinkle. Figuring discretion is he better part of valor, I decided to wait till Bullwinkle decided dinner didn't exist on asphalt. Besides I once was greatly entertained by a well told bar tale of a moose taking out the front of a cab over semi on Hwy 61 north of Duluth that tried to nudge him off the highway, scaring the driver into the sleeper. A tale confirmed by a picture in the next mornings paper.
But not being known for my patience, I grew tired of waiting and tried the pathetic tweeter that BMW calls a horn. This was as hopeless as getting Rush to vote for a Democrat, but then I remember Algonquin. Gradually raising the motor revs to 4000 RPM and then twisting and closing the throttle.
That got Mr. Moose's attention and he started for ditch. While he was still in view but sufficiently distant that I was emboldened to motor on, I started out, only to have Bullwinkle run in a panic, parallel to the road for 30 or so yards before bounding off into the woods. A couple of miles further along another moose in the ditch intently looking in my direction and then bolted off into the trees.
If only 4 stroke singles were as efficient with mosquitoes.
Jim :ylsmoke: