Moose-bombed
(Lou, Yukon) We’ve spent most of the last week in a state I can only describe as being moose-bombed. Anyone who hunts will tell you that pulling the trigger is the easy part. It’s a lot of work and I think we both wondered at points whether it was too much. But as I reminded Neil in my usual sympathetic style- “It is fucking disgusting to destroy this magnificent creature and then whinge and bitch about having to deal with it.” (In fairness, Neil had to do most of the lifting.) But we managed it and, after about 3 days of work, we are toasting our beautiful bull as we tuck into tenderloin, Moroccan moose stew, dill and beetroot moose stew (and so it will go on all winter...) Last Saturday, a friend from Dawson stopped by in his boat after an unsuccessful hunting trip down river. “Show us your moose calling then,” he asked. A bit shame-faced we gave it a go- “Nah, needs to be more nasal. Shorter. With an ‘eaarlgh’ sound at the end.” So we all practised bello...