Monday, August 6, 2012


As we neared the summit of Teton Pass, I told our guests that there was maybe one chance in a hundred we'd see a moose today. It was in the high 80s in the early afternoon, a time when the moose tend find a nice, shady spot to take a nap. Come to think of it, that's exactly what I usually do.

So, of course, about halfway along the Wilson-Moose road we see a car stopped on the roadside (a sure sign either that the occupants needed a potty break or that wildlife has been sighted) and, as we drove by, I spotted a quick flash of brown.


I shouted at Joan to pull over (sorry, Joan, but, you know, moose!) and we found a spot on the roadside. Down in shallow water, sure enough, was a moose cow, leisurely nibbling plants from the bottom of the pond. More surprisingly, perhaps 15 yards away stood a young bull moose, doing the same thing. Unlike usual sightings, these moose were in the wide open, convenient for photography and gawking.

We had missed Old Faithful the day before, so between getting to see Beehive go off and spotting two moose up close and personal, we  had made up for it. We started the day with brunch at the South Fork Lodge, which is usually the highlight of any day -- it's all downhill from there. But, moose!

Anyway, we meandered over to Jackson and did the tourist thing (though we had to really nudge Darla to get her picture taken in front of the elk horn arches, because she's not the touristy sort). After a good deal of negotiating (which mostly involved standing very close to people and staring them down to encourage them to finish up and leave) we arranged enough tables on the deck of the Town Square Tavern overlooking the, well, the town square, to accommodate the six of us. It was hot -- high 80s with only intermittent relief from clouds -- so much liquid refreshment was required.

Most of the conversation revolved around how sorry everyone (except your humble scribe) felt for the mules pulling the stagecoach around town. Me, I figured that was better for the mules than just about anything else they would be doing. Mary Grossman, publisher of Jackson's alternative weekly, stopped by to chat (they had just published an editorial decrying the long prayers before the local rodeo each night, which was causing a bit of a stir).

A visit to the St. John's Episcopal Church's thrift store yielded some cheap books and children's shoes of a size that won't fit any of our grand children.

Another perfect day in paradise, it was. And did I mention: Moose!

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