If you remember from back in my first post, way back when I used to enjoy writing. I don’t know if I was any good at it, but I enjoyed it. It was a way to pass the time and live in some other world for a bit. Sometimes it was a way to process thoughts and feelings. When I met my old friend and we first started connecting at the beginning, it was one of the things we bonded over. They began to draw things from the things I wrote, all of which I still have and treasure. The two of us would begin talking about stories we made up together. I miss having that connection with someone and haven’t found it since.
Sadly by the time we parted ways, I had lost myself. And writing was one of the things I stopped doing. There have been times in my life when I’ve wondered “who am I”. And there have been times when I’ve wondered if I was ever fortunate enough to reconnect with my old friend again, what would we talk about? Would I remember who I am? Would I have anything to offer?
As I’ve gotten older and found more of myself I’ve begun writing again. Particularly at work when we’ve got longer periods of slow and not much to do. So I’ve been writing lately about a guy who lives out in the middle of nowhere using his camera to make money. On his property is a moose by the name of Clarence.
I apologize in advance that nothing you read is going to be coherent or run in a time line. You’re going to read “woke up that morning” a lot. They aren’t one single story. Just parts of a story that I wrote while at work, and then some other day part of some other story using the same characters. It’s a start anyways. And I promise more photos are coming. Enjoy.
Story 1
7:30 am. What an exhausting time of day. But it’s worth handling because it’s also one of the few times of day that you associate with waffles. And anytime it is waffle time is a good time indeed.
Even though there’s no one around for miles I still sleep with the shades down to block out the sun. You’d think it was well into mid-day by the blaring spot light outside but really the chickadees are just starting their games. It is Alaska after all and the sun has been out now for hours. I make my way downstairs towards the breakfast nook. Really just a small 5 piece dining set next to a window in the corner. It magically transforms to my dining room in the evenings as well. All the while half asleep and still thinking lustful thoughts of that mistress called my pillow who held me so tight all through the night. My morning trek away from her motivated by a primal desire. “….coffee…”. “…waffles….”. It doesn’t escape me for a moment how awesome it would be if somehow there was a clever combination of the two. But I resign to pin that thought until later when waffle fueled heads could prevail.
I turn on the coffee pot and the waffle maker debating for moment if I should give them names or if that’s too much of a relationship to form with a $20 coffee pot. What if it fails and I have to replace it? Will any Mr. Coffee be like Kristen? And do the things she does for me? Or will it be some cheap knock off? Something young and complicated that doesn’t have the curves, the experience, or the understanding of how my mind works.
I grab my coffee and my waffles and sit down at the nook finally able to glance out into the day and enjoy this warm moment of existence. Outside munching away on something was Clarence. All 1,000 lbs., 7 feet of him standing in my yard as if he were posing for a picture. I swear you give a guy an apple one time and suddenly your new best friend is a moose. I opened the window a bit and called out to him, “Morning Clarence”. He just turned his head a little and kept on munching.
I’m sure he’d been up longer than I had but clearly he was still a little out of it too. That or I just wasn’t that interesting yet. After breakfast though I grabbed another cup of coffee and made my way out to the deck. It was right about then I became pretty interesting and he made himself a little more friendly walking up to the deck and giving me a good look over. I knew what he wanted and I was happy to oblige him. I rolled him an old apple I grabbed on my way out. “Well morning Clarence. Anything new today?” He just munched away. “Going to take another dip in the lake this morning?” I don’t know why I asked as I knew the answer.
Every morning he’d take a dip in the lake and make his way over to a shallow side to munch on the grasses that grew there. He just got in the habit of checking with me first for his sweet tooth addiction. It was strange really. To see something that large just go into the water like it was nothing. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was practicing for the local swim team. Somehow I didn’t think they make swim caps in his size though. Seems like the antlers would get in the way.
Sure enough though after he had taken his time to get every last enjoyable moment out of that apple he meandered his way over to the lake and just walked in. 9am, right on time Clarence. This meant I had about 15 minutes to get back in the house and dressed or my other little friend Harold would start throwing a fit and tapping at the back door. Harold was a duck with an attitude.
Story 2
Got up this morning and drove the old ford into town. Despite her age she isn’t a bad little truck. Sure she’s loud and has a tendency to kick like a mule every once in a while. Has a tendency to eat like one too. Put any other gas in her from any other station than Al’s down on Mile marker 246 and she’ll cause one hell of a fuss.
Still, if you get her a little time, attention and love, let her warm up a little, she’s probably the most dependable soul on my property. Doesn’t ask for too much, simple, still keeps it together no matter how rough things get. You can’t ask for much more than that.
Had to go into town this morning because we were running low on supplies. I needed some groceries, some bolts and parts, and Clarence needed some more apples. Every now and then I think about throwing him a curve ball and giving him something new like a pear. Just to spice things up a bit. But I’m sure if I did he’d just look at me for a long minute with that “what in the world……yeah alright, this one time” stare. If he was anything it was a creature of habit.
Harold came with me and sat in the passenger seat only making fuss whenever the truck unexpectedly kicked. I had started to let him in the truck when I left for town because he’s too stubborn to accept “no” and I worried about his safety. As soon as I would start the truck he’d hear it and fly into the bed or if he had a good shot and an open window right into the cab. This being Alaska a trip into town was going to be a day venture driving several hours there and several back.
It was probably best he stay in the cab anyways I suppose. What if I ran over a bump too hard and he got knocked out of the bed of the truck? I sure as hell didn’t want to be responsible for that. And by the time I noticed we’d be far apart. Besides, when I got into town he stayed out of trouble. Just sits there watching people go by. If any of them get a little too close for comfort he makes a noise. The way I figure it he’s the best security system I can buy for just a few grains of corn.
I arrived in town somewhere just north of 10. The diner was open and serving morning coffee and the general store was open. The two main places I needed to be. Being this early in the morning the diner was first. The need for coffee was strong and the diner was the best place to pick up local news. Sure I could have grabbed a paper but if you want to know what’s really going on, the diner is where you need to be.
“Morning Jen”, I told the waitress “can I get coffee with cream?” “Sure thing” she said as she proceeded to get my coffee. “Heard anything new?” I asked. “Nah, nothing much. The Army Corps office across the street isn’t open yet. They’ve got some new commander and he’s a little less friendly with the public. He’s not married either. Makes ya’ wonder what went wrong, man his age not married.” She retorted. “You don’t say” I replied rather inquisitively “I’ll have to check that out”. I didn’t care much about his marital status but the news of a new commander was of interest. I’ve been selling my photographs and surveys to them for years and this change could prove interesting. “Thanks for the coffee Jen. Stay beautiful.” I said as I got up to leave after drinking my coffee, placing a few bucks on the counter for the coffee and her time. The thought of a new commander rolled through my head a while. I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.
Over at the general store Dave was busy stocking cans on a shelf. He was the kind of guy that really enjoyed “fixing” things and putting them back into order. The kind of person that loves to organize, label, and keep books of spreadsheets on things. Everything had a home and a system and he spent a lot of energy keeping everything balanced and where it needed to be. He worked at the general store along with his daughter Martha who was at the moment suspiciously nowhere to be found.
As Dave got up from his cans and walked behind the checkout counter he asked me, “What’ll it be?” “Oh, much of the same. I need a box of 2 inch 10 penny nails, some more mix for making waffles, a carton of eggs if you’ve got them, some milk, another big tin of coffee, a box of regular pencils, and another bundle of old apples if you’ve got them. For Clarence” I replied to his inquiry. “You know, you’re the only one who wants these old apples. I can’t believe you pay for them either. Just trash” he said with bewildered look as he started to gather up items. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure Dave. It’s not much to you or I but to Clarence this is gold” I assured him.
I stood there for a moment as he gathered cans and boxes putting them into a bag, just looking out the window at the Amy Corps headquarters. Finally I asked him, “What do you know about the new Commander over there at HQ?” “For such a small town there’s been surprisingly little chatter to be honest” he said. “Lately not many people come in and out of there unless they have a uniform. And they don’t seem to talk much about him other than that he’s from out east. Which isn’t saying much because everyone here is from out east. Some more than others. Though I will say the guys that have come in here have been buying a lot of nonperishable items like can goods. So maybe they are gearing up for another project or something” he added.
It caught me a little weird that no one seemed to know anything. No talk yet of what projects were going on, where he was from, why he was here, what he was like, or even a name. Sooner or later I was going to have to check in. Get a feel for things myself.
It was right about then as Dave was beginning to ring up my bill when Martha burst in from the back office, doing her damnedest to keep control of this loud rumbling box. “Look Papa!” the child exclaimed to his horror. Apparently sometime recently “Mr. Bojangles” the family cat, had kittens. This was by far the last thing Dave wanted. More mess, more noise, more chaos, more reason for Martha to not help with the store. “Martha! Don’t bring those dirty little things in here. They are vermin. And don’t get too attached to them neither. I don’t need any pests around my store chasing away customers.” Dave barked at her while trying to still seem calm and professional.
The enthusiasm had fallen out of her voice when she asked, “well what do I do now?” Dave smiled at me for a moment politely before turning to her and sternly retorting, “Just take them back to the office. I’ll deal with them after work. I have to cross the old north bridge anyways.” I knew what he meant. Last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. Still, I couldn’t just stand here and let innocence be thrown off a bridge.
The words came out like sludge, “how much?” “What?” Dave asked me a little surprised. “For a kitten. How much?” I was more assertive that time and the words flowed a little easier. “I’ll give you a dollar for one. Whichever one seems to be the most hassle.” Martha quickly reached in the box and pulled out a little gray kitten who was been busy bouncing and tackling everyone else in the box. “And I’ll take out a 3 line ad in the Denali Daily.” Dave a little shocked seemed pleasantly surprised by my sudden sales. At least the part about the ad in the local newsletter, the Denali Daily. “Wonderful! What would you like the ad to say?” Dave inquired while finishing ringing up my bill. I just looked down at my money as I handed it over, a little sadden to see it go and said softly, “Free to good home. Kittens. See Martha.” The joy on Dave’s face lessened a bit, but he took my money anyways.
The whole ride home Harold didn’t know what to make of this tiny, noisy, anxious thing crawling about the floor boards of the truck. Anytime it got a little too close to the seat he’d have to readjust himself.
I’m pretty confident once Harold realized the kitten wasn’t going to eat him or otherwise hurt him he calmed down a bit. Never took his eye off it but definitely wasn’t worth making a big fuss over. “Don’t worry Harold” I assured him. “Having a lady around the place will be a good change. Maybe we’ll have to start picking up after ourselves a little better.” Harold seemed unimpressed though I’ll admit ducks can sometimes be hard to read.
On the long drive home I had decided to name the kitten Rebecca, after someone I used to know. A life lesson as to why sometimes compassion, patience, and a little faith in people can go a long way. Why some things just can’t, or shouldn’t, be caged. And how any cage whether you like it or not will both keep something in and something out at the same time. Worst part is I had to make that mistake a few times before I even caught on it was a mistake. I had to make that mistake a few times more to figure out how not to. It also didn’t escape me none how cats can sometimes be a bit of a smart ass. So it seemed suiting. And yes, before I got in the truck back in town I looked to make sure we avoid the “Mr. Bojangles” naming accident. So the name was appropriate.
Pulled up to my long drive way late in the evening. About half way down the old dirt driveway stood Clarence casually chewing away at something. It was unusual to see him so far from the main house and not at the lake. If he was just doing his daily business he’d be busy munching on a tree, resting under a shady tree, taking a swim, or if he was truly bored wandering the woods on the other side of the house. To be in the drive way, something caught his attention.
My mind quickly raced to thoughts of wolves and bears. To hunters in the area, or thieves. To whatever damage may have been done to the property while I was away. Finally, to concerns that an old photograph I keep upstairs was still safe.
As I rolled up the drive way slowly I reached under my seat and felt around for my gun. I didn’t like guns, and I wasn’t really good with one. But this was Alaska. And no matter how big you think you are, there’s always something bigger than you. Especially trouble. As I pulled up to the house however I was pleasantly surprised to see an Army vehicle parked out front. Whatever they were here for, it wasn’t going to be dangerous so the gun made its way back home.
The brakes squeaked as I rolled to a stop and put the truck in park. As I got out I waited half a second for Harold to jump out after me. He waddled off towards the lake for the evening talking to himself the whole time. After Harold was gone I rolled the window down an inch for air and quickly shut the door. Rebecca didn’t need to be outside just yet.
Two men in uniform sat in chairs I had left on my deck. They sat forward in their chairs ready to get up at any moment, holding on their hats in their hands. They both had a symbol of a castle on their uniforms which wasn’t uncommon in this part of the country. The older of the two gentlemen had two solid silver bars on his shirt showing a Captain’s rank. Looking right at him I asked about his business. “Commander. What brings you this way?” He stood up from his chair and walked to the end the porch. “I’m here to introduce myself. And to talk to you a little about your camera.” He said. His voice carried a certain weight and confidence to it. Clearly someone who was familiar to being in charge and not to being told no.
“Well you should have told me you were coming. I could have saved you a trip. I was just in town today and I could have met you there.” I’m always cautious with new people, but I spoke friendly enough. As I approached him I held out my hand and he said “Daniels. Captain Daniels” and shook it. “Well you might as well as come inside. No sense in staying out here and feeding the mosquitoes.” I said as I entered the house. The two gentlemen happily followed.
People like to personify fear as being this big nasty snarling creature that comes up from behind like a lurch in an alley and consumes you. Some sort of proverbial boogyman that since the days of cavemen has been our biggest rival and predator. But anything that primal, that basic an entity into the lives of living creatures is going to be so much more sophisticated in its simplicity and cunning.
After all, you evolved the ability to have fear because fear can keep you alive. Fear tells you when to run, when to fight, when to avoid, and when to hide. Fear is the thing we invoke and tempt when we do things purely for the rush like skydiving or driving fast.
No fear is not some snarling monster. Fear is that the attractive person from across the room whom with a glance and a slight raise of their brow you instantly know is trouble. Yet you stay. Maybe because you arrogantly think you’ll be different from everyone else, you’ll be able to control it. Maybe because your mother didn’t really ever teach you how to prepare for this moment.
But with their careful and confident walk over to you they have your attention and you can’t look away. They immediately come up close and invade your personal space, putting on hand on your waist and sliding it up your back between your shoulders. An action that makes it hard to get away. As they slide their hand up your back, to your shoulders, by your neck, they move their hand to your chest as if by magic without you noticing. Sliding their hand down your shirt to change your breathing, touching your skin and slowly applying more and more pressure they pull it back out. At their closest point they whisper in your ear, “run”. And as much as you may want to, you can’t. If they were to whisper anything else you’d do it without question, as if you weren’t yourself anymore. Your heart races as you stay stuck between excitement, anxiety, confusion, and empty thoughts. A victim to the spider’s web. That is fear.
I awoke that morning much like any other. Far too early to the persistent nudging and purring of my live in roommate. No matter how many times I tried to gently push the snooze button on my fuzzy alarm I was still met with an eager, “yeow”. Like so many mornings before this was clearly a battle I was not meant to win. I dragged myself out of bed, and went into the kitchen where I lit the old stove and put some coffee on to drip. All the while my little friend ran figure eights in my legs. “yeowl!” she proclaimed as apparently I was not moving fast enough. “Yes Rebecca I know” I tried to assure her to no avail. Quickly I reached in the cupboard and put some cat food in a bowl. No sooner as I placed it on the flood was someone eating like a good little piglet.
Outside the sun had already risen. There was a cool in the air as the new day’s sun had not warmed it yet. This left a slight mist or fog out in the field. And there at the top of the hill nibbling on the one apple tree was Clarence. If I ever needed to I swear I could tell time by the current location of that boy as he moved like clockwork. He stopped for just a moment to look at me as if to say hello or good morning and then went back about his day. I tried bringing him a banana I bought once from town but he didn’t seem to care for it. Apparently the boy just doesn’t like bananas. But in his defense there’s not really a conceivable reason why a wild moose in the middle of Alaska would ever come across a banana before.
Clarence had been on the property since long before I bought it several years ago. In ancient days someone might have had a peacock, a donkey, or a llama on their property as an early warning system of something bad. I had Clarence without even asking, and the best part was depending on what the trouble was he’d even defend. Standing near 7 or 8 feet tall at the shoulder and not even considering the antlers he had Clarence was a force to be reckoned with. I still remember the day I bought the property I asked about him to the previous owner. His advice to me was “you just leave him be and he’ll leave you be”. Seemed simple enough but rather folksy. Then that night came when a bear looking for food came a little too close to the house and was trying to figure out how doorknobs work a little too well for my comfort, if it hadn’t been for Clarence chasing him off things could have gotten ugly fast.
So yeah he stood up there in the morning dew munching away at the apple tree. As far as I was concerned that was his apple tree. No matter how many time he or the previous winters killed it I’ll always make sure there’s another one for him.
Other than my usual wakeup call the morning was relatively uneventful. Rebecca immediately disappeared to find herself some trouble or chase the morning sunspot as soon as she got what she wanted. Clarence made his way from the apple tree at the hill to the birches on the far side of the field. As the day progressed he’d eventually wander down my long gravel road to the lake for a swim before coming back in the cool of the evening. This left me ample opportunity to finish my coffee and get dressed before loading up the old truck with some camera gear and heading into town to look for work. Something to keep me busy.
The Army Corps of Engineers had made their way to this part of Alaska within the last few years to complete several projects and surveys. Things like bridges, roads, runways, that sort of thing. Part of their projects were more community based such as the bridge they built over the river past the valley. Others projects like most of these surveys, seemed to be more military oriented. Not sure really what they were looking for but they kept it close to the vest like military people do. I’d made a habit of driving into town and checking in on things. Sometimes the Captain had a survey job where he needed some photographs taken, other times the local print shop and newspaper would need images of an event in the area. Either way you got to talking to people and that always lead to learning something you hadn’t known before.
I arrived into town still early and stopped like I usually do at the only thing open, Donna’s Diner. It just also happened to be the hub and heartbeat for everything going on in a 5 mile radius of town and Moose Lake. As soon as I walked in Donna poured me a cup of coffee, said hello, and told me to stay out of trouble. I wasn’t sure how to take that, but the smirk on her face suggested with a grain of salt. I sat at my usual stool and ordered a bagel with cheese.
As we got past the usual pleasantries and daily routines I had gotten a chance to ask Donna if she’d heard anything interesting lately from people passing on through. “As a matter of fact” she said, “I did have a strange group of young men come through recently. Privates from the base who seemed a little rattled by something. Kept mentioning D.C. for some reason. I walked by them three times before any of them noticed I was there and ordered something.” It could have been nothing but it was worth looking into.
After breakfast I made my way down the street on foot the Amy office to await the arrival Captain Wheeler shortly after they opened to the public for the day. The Captain always struck me as a reserved but open minded and clear headed guy. He wasn’t always quick to act and he could be persuaded, assuming you had a logical argument and enough hard evidence to support it. Being a soldier he also knew that sometimes you have to just do what you’re told and put your own views and feelings aside. And that sometimes meant once you make a commitment, you keep it.
His lieutenant on the other hand was a young man who came across and loathing this assignment. I always got the impression he was looking to be a hero somewhere face in the dirt of some god awful forgotten piece of earth. Off bravely fighting and defending against fascists, or communists, or anarchists, or some other form of “ists”. Instead he was here surrounded by civilians whom he saw as the worst kinds of “ists”; pacifists.
What he was, was a young man who didn’t know how well he had gotten it. It’s easy to mentally glorify war in the imagination, it’s another to endure it. Death much like birth isn’t pretty, and about 80% of it comes with an unexpected shit.
The Army office opened without much ceremonial hub-to-do. As I heard the door unlock like it does this time every morning I reached for the handle of the big wooden door. Before I could grab it the door immediately swung open and I had stumbled backwards as to not be in the way and bump into the person making their departure. “Yes Captain. Understood. Until then.” They said in a soft voice looking back. It was Elizabeth, a local chemist in the area. As soon as she looked forward and I saw her face it all hit me. Just as it always does. Memories of days spent talking and laughing at Donna’s Diner. Social get togethers where out of the middle of nowhere she’d do something odd like lick the side of my face just to watch me squirm. Moon lit nights of passion and sex which were less about sex and more about just being as close to each other as physically possible. And new dawn mornings of her standing in the door way looking at the field wearing nothing but her underwear bottoms and my dirty button up shirt she had picked up off the floor. .
The kind of comfort where underwear stops matching and becomes cotton whatevers, people don’t shave every day, you keep a few things over at their place, and your first and last thought is of them. Just assuming they’ll be there. Like a fool. As well as memories of her scream the night the car hit that ditch on the old road, or fights about nothing because neither of us really wanted to say what we thought.
My gaze caught hers for only a minute before she hastily looked away. “Hi” she said with speed and at an almost inaudible volume. “Hi” I said, but the words were slow to arrive in my mouth and by the time I spoke she was already gone. We both knew inside, there would be a reckoning between us someday. Neither of us wanted to address it as we were both afraid of what it might do. To each other and to ourselves. So we just avoided each other as best we could for now, and hoped it never needed to happen.
Despite my startling arrival I made my way inside the Army office where the Captain was already busy working at his desk. I didn’t inquire about Elizabeth’s business there though I wanted to. Instead I chose to ask if he had heard anything about D.C. lately which raised a brow. “Not that I know of” he replied. I knew he was hiding something but that was also part of his job. I told him the story I had heard about some personnel who arrived to the diner who seemed spooked. That I didn’t know if I should be here today as a photographer for him or for the paper down the street. And if there was anything he could clear up for me. He glanced briefly at a letter on his desk. I knew it was trouble. But he quickly kept up with his story that nothing was up or should be concerning. Instead he chose to change the subject and asked me to photograph a ravine in the area and to do so with haste as they needed to do some civil engineering models soon. With reluctance I took the job and made my way out of town. It’s where I’d end up spending my day.
I arrived home late evening to find Clarence by the house laying underneath a tree I usually park my truck under. I honked once at him to make sure he knew I was there but he just looked at me for a moment before looking away and flicking one ear. Clearly the honk was being taken under advisement and was simply deemed not interested. So I pulled off to the side and walked the rest of the way. He was still wet from coming out of the lake and not far off. I could still hear ducks arguing over their giant intruder. All the while I couldn’t help but think about the morning and my interaction with the Captain. 9 times out of 10 if it feels like someone is trying to get rid of you or keep you busy, they are. Something didn’t smell right.
The next morning I awoke to much my same routine. When I got to the kitchen however something just felt, wrong. The world seemed fine but it was off just a little bit. Looking around for some clue or note I found myself gazing out the window when it hit me. Clarence wasn’t at his tree. Clarence is never late. I began to panic just a little bit.
There was a commotion near the front of the house. To my discovery it was Clarence. He was upset as his little tail moved and he looked on guard. His fur glistened sun for a moment before suddenly I knew with a sinking feeling. He was injured. Before I could make it to the door wolves come out from the tree line to stage what I could only assume was another attack.
Everything just sort of happened in automatic mode from that moment.
I went back into the kitchen and scooped up Rebecca mid chomp into some food. I carried her into my bedroom and shut her in my closet. Quickly I ran back into the living room still dressed for sleep and grabbed the truck keys. Slowly I made my way outside and to the truck. My hands shook and under my breath I repeated the words, “this is stupid, this is stupid”. My friend was in danger though and I had to act. As soon as the key was in the ignition and the engine turned I slammed the truck into reverse without looking and floored it. There was a loud “ka-chunk” and the truck shook. In front of me lay an injured wolf who quickly got up and made a break for the tree line. I looked at my mirrors frantically.
Clarence was okay and making his way down the road. I knew he needed help still. Throwing the truck in drive and spinning out the back end swung around and I raced down the road past Clarence. If he got back into the tree line he was dead. Something just made me feel like he couldn’t leave.
Near the end of the roadway I slammed the emergency break swinging the back end around to a 90 degrees and perpendicular to the road. Clarence was in no mood. At full speed he proceeded to ram the truck and crush my door. Glass exploded into cab and the wheels on that side lifted off the ground for a moment. Clarence shook his head for a moment and snorted what I could only assume was, “get out of my way old man”. In a frantic I began looking around the cab for anything that might send him another direction. With a wild turn of the dial the radio came on at full volume and started him back towards the house. He’d make his way up the hill to hide out by the apple tree.
Upon arriving back at the house a scared and startled Rebecca who’s stomach didn’t appreciate the sudden grab had puked all over my shoes in the closet. One more thing I’d have to get fixed. I wanted to make a special stop in town today for some gauze, medical tape, and to see if the local vet had any tranquilizers for livestock. My hope was maybe I could slip something in an apple and while he slept, clean and bandage Clarence’s wound a bit. He’d look pretty dopey standing on that hill with a white square on his shoulder, but at least he’d be at the hill.
He stopped chewing his meal for a moment and looked up. His expression was one of alert inquiry. There was a faint smell of something burning slowly drifting in from the distance. Not a bird could be heard. Deep within him he knew, something was not right here. As he looked out ahead into the horizon he thought to himself, “war is coming” with the knowledge soon enough it would come for him. These moments would be the calm before storm for soon he would do battle.
At least, that’s what I assume was the scenario that played out in Clarence’s head as he munched on pumpkins. In actuality his thoughts were probably more along the lines of, “mmm, yes, this is SO good”. Pumpkins are something that don’t grow naturally here and are only brought up from below for Halloween and maybe Thanksgiving. When the holiday is over it’s just a free buffet of goodness for the likes of a moose. Still it was amusing to me to think of him preparing for some mighty arctic war. Galloping bravely into battle with his coat of dwarven armor. Fear not creatures of this land for the might of the deer family has arrived. It was a lot nicer a thought than the realization I was going to have to clean up that pumpkin carcass when he was done with it. Or the nuggets he left me in the middle of the drive.
