It is often the case that our moments of greatest fear occur without warning then pass within seconds to leave us shaking our heads in wonder at how we survived the ordeal. I had this experience last October while on my trap-line which is located in a remote portion of the southeast Yukon.
October 30 was a fine, sunny day. Since early morning I had been working around the camp, engaged in a variety of pre-season projects, eagerly anticipating the fast approaching season.
About mid-day I was alerted to the presence of an animal by the frantic barking, and growling of my dogs, Max and Shadow. I quickly grabbed my gun and went to investigate the source of their agitation. Both dogs were at the far end of the small clearing that surrounds the cabin. Whatever had them so excited was not moving .Both dogs continued their barking and growling, all the hair standing up on their backs, yet reluctant to tackle it. Cautiously approaching I could see a large cow moose. At my approach she started walking slowly through the thick brush until coming to the trail which leads out of the yard. Turning in my direction, she began walking towards me. By now I was getting quite uncomfortable as the distance between us narrowed. As I began to back up she laid her ears back, emitted a soft grunt, and then charged at me like a freight train. 
Terrified I spun around and ran. Within seconds she was right behind me, and I quickly realized the futility of trying to outrun a charging moose. Without slowing down, I pointed my 30-30 over my shoulder, and fired. A clean miss! I lost my balance at this point, and fell. My head almost hitting the rear carrier of my Tundra Long Track. I had been working on the track adjustment the day before, and the rear of the machine was still propped up on a block of wood. My knee slammed into the frozen ground with great force, causing great pain.
Whether it was the muzzle blast, or the fact that she was about to run into the corner of my work shop, I don’t know, but she put on the brakes, and appeared unstable on her feet. I thought that she was going to fall on top of me! Backing off about 15 metres she calmly stood there as if nothing had happened. By this time I was in a lot of pain from my knee. My fright at this incident was quickly being replaced by anger at this sudden disruption of my schedule. Yelling at her, I fired a warning shot over her back, hoping to drive her off. She just stood there, not the least bit bothered by the shot.
I limped into the cabin and sat down. Over a cup of tea I reflected on what had just happened, and how fortunate I was to have got out of this with no more than a badly bruised knee. In an hour or so, I looked out the cabin door, fully expecting to see that she had left. Much to my surprise, there she was, and still highly agitated. I already had my winter moose, and besides, cow moose are protected in the Yukon. I spent the remainder of the day inside, putting marten boxes together, assuming that she would eventually leave. No sign of the dogs, after my gun shot! Max is afraid of guns so they may have taken off. I went outside at dusk, rifle in hand, and there she was feeding on red willow not far from where I had first seen her. The following morning she was gone.
There are several factors that could possibly have caused this incident.
- This is an extremely remote area! It was my first season on this line which had not been trapped in years. She probably had not seen a human before.
- She did not have a calf with her. It is possible that she had recently lost it to predation by wolves or a bear.
- My dogs barking and growling could have caused her aggression.
Whatever the cause, this was a terrifying experience that I won’t forget. I now consider a cow moose to be a very dangerous animal, and one to be treated with great caution.
I would be interested in hearing from any other trappers who may have had a similar experience.