Canada Moose's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Canada Moose walked until the laughing was behind him. He stopped at the edge of a small meadow and pulled a folded board from inside his jacket. It was a checklist he kept tucked against his ribs for moments like this. He set it on a flat stone and stared at the empty lines. He needed a feat. Something big enough to wipe out the picture of him on his knees. He wrote: 1. Do something the grizzly cannot do. He stared at that line for a long time. Then he crossed it out. He wrote: 1. Do something brave near where they saw me kneel. The spot where the animals had gathered was easy to find. A thick cluster of tall grass grew at the edge of the brush, bent and trampled where the porcupine and cougar had sat. Canada Moose stood in the flattened grass and tried to think like a hero. Across the trees, up a low rise, he could see the dark mouth of the grizzly's den. Roots hung over the opening. Stones held the mound in place. The grizzly was not home. Canada Moose knew this because he could hear the grizzly crashing through a creek far to the north, breaking branches without trying. That sound was the whole problem. The grizzly did not need a plan. Canada Moose did. He looked at the checklist again and wrote: 2. Walk to the den and leave a mark. Touch it. Come back. Tell the animals you did. He folded the board, tucked it away, and started up the rise. His hooves slid on loose dirt. He reached the front of the den and stopped. The opening smelled of old meat and wet fur. He lifted one hoof to scratch a line in the earthen mound. Then he heard a branch snap behind him. He turned. The porcupine sat on a root ten feet away, watching. The cougar lay on a stone below, tail still. They had followed him. They were waiting to see what he would do at the den that did not belong to him. Canada Moose lowered his hoof. He could not scratch the mound now. If he did, it would look like a trick performed for an audience, not a feat. If he ran, he would be the moose who knelt and then fled. He stood straight, turned his antlers toward the den opening, and waited. He counted to sixty. Nothing came out. He walked back down the rise past the porcupine and the cougar without hurrying. Neither animal laughed. Neither animal looked impressed. He reached the meadow, pulled out the checklist, and crossed off task two. Under it he wrote: 3. They are watching every move now. Plan smaller. He had wanted one big feat. He had earned an audience instead.