Bub Moose
Page 7
“A WOLF! What are you doing with a wolf?”
“Mother told me to be afraid of wolves, but Snow is my friend. Mother said that wolves eat little moose, but Snow won’t hurt me. We’re friends.” I looked up at Father.
Snow crawled out from his hiding place. “I’m Snow. I would never hurt Bub or any other moose for that matter. We have been looking for our mothers together.”
“Oh, so that’s what all the howling was about last night. You’ve been missing, too. No wonder the pack was making such a fuss. I guess that you will have to come along. The people are ready to go back to their fun, and a little wolf might not be safe. Let’s go!”
Lined up near their buildings, people stood back as we made a small parade into the forest. Father tossed his head occasionally to tell the people that we were just visiting. Snow trotted behind me, his nose high, but his tail was tucked. I tried to see everything all at once. I wanted to remember what people were really like. Mother would want to know that they weren’t as horrible as she thought. Weird, yes. But not horrible.
• • •
Father led us away. Everywhere we went, people stared at us. Most of them hid behind trees or were tucked in beside buildings. As we approached, people scattered in front of us. Father let out loud snorts, and we walked on. When someone came close, Father stamped his foot and the people scampered. He held his head high and proud. My head bobbed back and forth as I looked around at all of the excitement. Snow kept his nose close to the ground and his tail tucked behind him.
“Are we ever going to get away from these people?” Snow asked. He seemed nervous and tired.
“Help me remember everything. I want Mother to know each little bit about this. She thinks that people are all bad. I want to tell her about what we saw and did.” I glanced back at the little wolf.
“Are you sure that your father knows his way out of here?” Snow glanced back at the people who closed in behind us.
“I don’t know. I have never even seen him before. He looks like Mother, only bigger. Mother told me that he would have branches on his head.” I stared at the back of the big moose in front of me.
“Silly! Those aren’t branches on his head. Those are antlers.” Snow’s tail flipped back and forth.
“How do you know all these things about people and animals and stuff?” I let out a little snort.
“I try to pay attention to everything around me. Most times I keep my ears perked and my eyes alert. Most of all, I listen to what the others in my pack say. They have been here longer than I have, and they know lots more stuff than I do.” Snow’s ears were high and pointed.
I perked my ears up, too. We were almost to the safety of the trees and away from the people. Father led us along a ledge at the bottom of the mountain. It seemed like a long time, but he finally found a narrow path that led us toward the top.
Father’s big hooves were steady on the trail. My feet slipped and skidded on the loose rocks. I staggered and stumbled several times, trying to stay up. Snow followed farther behind, to keep from getting gravel and pebbles in his face.
When we finally reached a flat open area, my legs were shaky and weak.
Father raised his big head toward the sky. He let out the loudest sound I ever heard.
“HRONK!”
The call was so loud it made my ears flatten against my neck. Then another noise came. I turned toward a tall stand of aspen, listening. There was a commotion. Then the best sound I ever heard filled the mountain air.
“Hronk! Hronk!”
“Hronk!” I squeaked. My eyes darted to the edge of the forest.
“MOTHER?”
I leaped forward, then skidded to a stop. I had to be sure that it was really her.
“Bub Moose! Come here!” My mother stood at the edge of the aspens.
Fast as I could, I bolted to her side. Nuzzling her flank, I found her warm milk. For the first time in a long long while, I felt safe and warm.
Standing tall and proud, Father watched us. After a while, he lowered his head and wobbled his antlers. “I need to go,” he said. “Bull moose roam by ourselves. Bub, you mind your mother and don’t make us have to come looking for you again.”
I nodded, but I didn’t let go of my milk.
When Father turned to go, I heard a loud squeaking sound. He didn’t step on Snow, but I guess my friend thought he was going to. The little wolf darted behind a dead stump to hide. Father just rolled his eyes and shook his head. He moved off toward the forest.
Suddenly Father stopped. Still and motionless as a mighty fir tree on a windless day, he stood. Then . . . ever so slowly . . . he began to back toward us. Mother stomped her foot, telling me to stop eating breakfast. I stood beside her, listening. All at once she turned.
Now I was between the two giant animals. Mother’s rump was on one side and Father’s was on the other—with me in between.
I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t hear anything. They sure were acting strange, though.
“What is it?” I wondered. “What’s going on?”
They both shushed me.
I never saw what they were looking at. Not at first. I did hear the growl. It was low and soft at first. Then it came from another direction and yet another. Finally I realized it wasn’t one growl, but a whole bunch. They came from all around us, growing louder and more frightening with the passing of each second.
“Leave our baby alone!” Mother and Father warned.
“What have you done with my baby?” one of the growls answered back. “Have you hurt him? If you’ve harmed him in any way . . . we’ll have you and your baby for supper.”
“Get back!” Father snorted.
“Give me my baby!” A voice snarled back.
I finally saw where the scary growls were coming from.
Wolves!
They moved into the open. They were everywhere. They surrounded us. There must have been a hundred of them. No, a thousand. (Okay . . . well, maybe there were six or seven.]
They appeared from behind the trees and rocks. Their fur was ridged up on their necks and backs. They curled their lips and showed their long white glistening fangs. They moved toward us. Closer and closer and . . .
“All right. You guys knock it off.”
Suddenly Snow hopped to the top of the dead stump where he hid. He made the hair on his back bristle up, too. Little as he was, he tried to look mean and brave.
“They didn’t hurt me,” he said, gnashing his teeth. “Bub Moose is my friend. We were playing, and we got lost. The daddy moose saved us and brought us back to the forest.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, nudging Father’s rump with my nose. “Snow is my friend. There’s no need for everybody to get in such a fuss. We’re both safe. Nobody’s hurt.”
A gray wolf moved slowly toward us.
“Snow, you come here. Right now!”
Snow hopped down from the stump and ran to the big wolf. Ears flattened against his head. His tail wagged back and forth as fast as an aspen leaf wiggles in a strong wind. He circled her.
Still glaring at my mother and father, the gray wolf sniffed Snow and kissed him on the forehead. Then . . . she growled at him.
“I warned you about moose. Let’s go. You must promise me never . . . and I mean, NEVER . . . get near a moose again.”
Mother flipped her tail. When she did, it clunked me on the head.
“That goes for you, too, Bub Moose,” she whispered. “You must never go near wolves again. Promise?”
Snow looked at his mother. I looked at my mother. And . . . at the very same instant . . . we both said:
“I promise.”
But when Snow and his pack moved away into the darkness of the forest, he glanced back at me. Snow wagged his tail and winked.
I winked back.
About the Authors
CAROL WALLACE and BILL WALLACE live west of Chickasha, Oklahoma, far from the home of Bub Moose. Years ago, on a trip to the Whiskey Basin Wilderness area in
Wyoming, Bill came face-to-face with a baby moose. When he and Carol traveled to Montana, they enjoyed the tales that the residents had of moose encounters. Carol was fascinated and hoped to get only a glimpse of one of the gigantic creatures. They went home without spotting a single moose.
Shortly after the trip, Carol and their daughter, Nikki, decided to go on a “moose hunt” in Oklahoma. The end result was just the beginning of Nikki’s special moose collection, as well as the inspiration for this story.
Mush, one of the family’s six dogs, served as the model for Snow.
Aladdin
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2001 by Bill Wallace and Carol Wallace
Illustrations copyright © 2001 by John Steven Gurney
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
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ISBN 978-0-7434-0637-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-7434-0639-0 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-4814-3146-0 (eBook)
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