Jay Riven

Lessons from Moose and Snakes

It’s expensive living in resort towns.

Following my college graduation, I moved to Jackson Hole, Wyoming where taking multiple part-time seasonal jobs (I had up to 6 at a time) is the only way to live in such a paradise. One of my jobs before the snow hit was with a landscaping company taking care of the expansive yards in a wealthy housing subdivision in the shadows of the Grand Tetons. These vacation homes were likely only occupied a few weeks a year, but were absolutely elegant all year. I was in charge of cutting their grass, mulching their beds, fertilizing their trees, and essentially making sure they looked good…for no one. Nevertheless, it was a great way to be outside.

We worked in pairs. My boss paired me with Snake. He was about my age. I assume he had a last name, but I was never sure. When we met, I asked him what his real name was, but he told me Snake was all I needed to know and that was pretty much the last conversation we had.  

From his appearance alone, I could tell we likely had pretty different interests.  He alternated living in his car and his tent and may have showered once a week. Or not. I assumed he cut grass to make enough money to rock climb, something he apparently did every chance he got. Together, but separately, we worked hard and did well together, but we never actually talked past laying out our plans for the day’s work. I’m not sure where he took his lunch breaks, but they were not with me. 

One day, as I was cutting with my push mower, totally “in the zone,” probably deep in some daydream, a rock hit my back. I ignored it, figuring the mower kicked something up. 

Then another rock to my head.  

I turned around and saw Snake ready to throw a third rock at me, his eyes wide open yet looking past me…right at the cutest little baby moose, not five feet away. Moose are very common in those parts.  

That’s when my stomach fell. As everyone knows (or should know), where there’s a baby moose, there’s very likely a momma moose, so I pivoted slightly to my right and, sure enough, momma moose. I still don’t know if moose have expressions, but if they were, this one was not pleasant. 

I had unwittingly violated Rule One of survival in wild places: never get between a moose and her calf (Rule Two, same thing but with any other wild animal). Snake and I made eye contact in an instant and, though we’d never talked, completely read each other’s minds:

“Run. Run like you’ve never run before.”

Knowing it’s impossible to outrun a moose which, right on schedule, charged us, we abandoned our running mowers and dashed toward our truck. While we got there in time, we did not have time to open the door, so we dropped and rolled under it laying side by side making ourselves as skinny as possible. 

Fortunately, moose, as big, strong, and powerful as they are, are also quite stupid. As soon as the moose could not see us, she immediately either forgot we existed, lost interest, or both. No longer feeling threatened, she simply stopped at the truck where we lay and started grazing. For over an hour. I guess she worked up quite the appetite during her 10-foot sprint.

All was well, except for the fact that now Snake and I were trapped under the truck for as long as she was eating. After catching our breaths and celebrating the fact we were, in fact, still breathing, there was an awkward silence. Then, out of boredom more than anything else, we eventually started to talk.

We actually ended up having a good time. We laughed a little, and we found some things we had in common, not a lot, mind you, but enough. We didn’t finish our work for the day, but we had fun explaining why to our boss. He didn’t really care but asked us to come in early the next day. In the days that followed, Snake and I still didn’t hang out, have lunch, or talk much. When the first snowstorm hit, Snake stopped showing up to work; he probably moved on to Arizona or New Mexico for a while.

The lessons I learned that fall:

(1) It gets really cold in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Really cold. Nothing to do with the story, but I say it all the same.

(2) Never get between a mother moose and a baby moose. 

(3) If you try hard enough, the circumstances and timing are just right, and both parties are willing, it is entirely possible to get to know someone very different from you and find things in common.