Letter From America: Loose Moose Talk And A Daniel Come To Judgement
Ronnie Bray tells us that some of those good-hearted folk in Montana enjoy sharing an impromptu MooseFest.
Moose are big in Montana, but they are also pretty big in the Idaho Panhandle too.
Our little city of Troy Montana nestles almost up to the Panhandle’s border with only twelve miles of mountain and forest road between them. Moose roam freely across the road when they are least expected, and are the most dangerous animals to run into because their spindly legs puts their considerable body mass above the height of the car bonnet, causing them to slide swiftly up the slope and, without seeking permission, through the windshield with the velocity of an elephant dropped from an aeroplane. The results are often deadly for the occupants of the vehicle.
The highways of Northwest Montana and the northern extremity of Idaho are commonly strewn with the cadavers of game animals that didn’t make it across the road. The rugged denizens of these parts get by on an inborn blend of determination and obstinacy, and lots of road kill is stripped of its more edible parts before Game Department Wardens get to it, being seen as a gift from God.
Taking dead animals and eating them are two separate crimes. So when a man from Moyie Springs found a 900 lb. moose that had been hit by several logging lorries and dragged under at least one of them until it was skinned, he recognised the Hand of Providence and fell right in with the Divine Intention.
These parts have an underground network of good-hearted but nameless folk who will respond to a three a.m. call, drive upwards of forty miles to harvest a downed animal, quickly butcher it, and then distribute it to food banks and church pantries for the benefit of other poor folks.
There is also an underground network of Fish and Game wardens who keep their ears pressed to the ground and wide open in bars to pick up information about illegally taken game. This is what led undercover agents to the Great Moose Cook Off and landed Cliff Kramer in court. His defence was that he had wanted to bury the unfortunate animal, but then he decided to light a fire, cut up the moose into roasts, and holler for his friends to share an impromptu MooseFest!
The State Trooper, who claimed to have found the animal before the Man from Moyie, said in his evidence, "When I got to it, the moose was tight, very tight, and bloated."
The Trooper found the moose a second time after he discovered leftover cooked moose in the defendant’s freezers. His explanation was that the weekend was very hot so he didn’t want the carcass rotting by the side of the road. But when he got it home it looked "just fine," no doubt improved by the journey in the back of his pickup, so he decided it deserved a fate more in keeping with the Spirit of fiercely independent North-Westerners, and that’s what it got.
The judge, also a North Westerner, found him not guilty, adding a surmise to his decision "The court expresses no opinion on the wisdom of eating meat that may have been gleaned from a carcass that was run over multiple times by large trucks and left lying on asphalt for approximately sixteen hours in 80 degree heat," adding: "The county’s prosecution probably smells worse than the moose did."
Many locals will find comfort from Judge Justin Julian’s opinion rendered in the interrogative, "So, does the salvage of meat no one else wanted render Kramer worthy of further prosecution? The court thinks not!"
Kramer is now suing the Boundary County for $10,000 to cover the value of the confiscated meat. He had planned to use it for a second MooseFest and hire a band to liven things up even more.
Maybe the grapevine will yield information on the place, date, and time, of that event. I am keeping my eating irons sharp, and stored in my rig, just in case!
Copyright © Ronnie Bray 2004
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
