I hate it when a tiny rock comes flying up from the roadway and makes a small crack in my windshield. It makes me angry at the driver of the truck I am tailgating. But it could be worse. Example: A moose comes flying up from the roadway and makes a big crack in my windshield. Like in New Hampshire. In that state there are about 250 car-versus-moose incidents each year, most of them resulting in what leading animal biologists call a "big dead moose."
The problem is so severe that New Hampshire recently changed its license plate motto from "Live Free or Die" to "I Brake for Moose", which is certainly more pleasing to the eye for the prison inmates who make the plates.
Most of us, obviously, will never see a moose. And if we do catch a glimpse of the largest of all North American mammals, he's most likely on his way to the Tuesday night lodge meeting and will not likely dart out in front of your vehicle. At least not like those guys over at the Elk Lodge.
Even in Colorado--where I now live as part of the Federal Struggling Writer Protection Program--we don't see many moose. We only have about 500 of them, according to the Division of Wildlife, and most live near the very remote village of Walden. (Chamber of Commerce motto: "Walden: Come for the Moose. Stay for the Indescribable Loneliness.")
Bud Smith is the Division of Wildlife's moose expert. "Moose are so tall that most cars go under them," he said. "Right between their legs."
(When the enormity of what he had said sunk in, we both needed about 30 seconds to catch our breaths, stop making funny faces and quit saying "Oooooohhhh!")
Anyway, I think you can imagine what happens after a Buick Skylark traveling 70 mph goes between the legs of a mature bull moose. That's right--you quietly return the car to your father's garage and hope he doesn't notice the really odd scratches on the roof.
But--as I mentioned some seven or eight hours ago--it's New Hampshire that really has a moose problem. Because of the frequency collisions, there's a man, well, let the Associated Press tell it:
LEBANON, N.H.--Dr. John Sutton is a moose trauma expert. He is known to his colleagues as Dr. Moose.
(By way of comparison, my physician is known to his colleagues as Dr. Golf.)
New Hampshire should be grateful to have a Dr. Moose. Only Alaska has a bigger problem with moose. In that state there are nearly 600 crashes a year involving moose.
(Although it should be noted that in nearly 65% of those crashes, the moose were driving.)
More from the AP: In northern New England, 23 people have been hospitalized over the past 4 1/2 years for moose-related injuries.
No clearly no injuries are funny.
But if the thought of any type of injuries were to cause a person to begin snickering, try to suffocate the laughter and eventually explode, it would, I believe, be moose-related injuries.
Not that Dr. Moose is laughing.
"The likelihood of hospitals here taking care of someone who's hit a moose is greater than someone who's been shot or stabbed," Sutton said.
(It's the sort of thing that makes people in LA so smug.)
Still more from the AP: Sutton drives a Volvo and his wife has a Saab, two automobiles he lauds for their moose-resistant construction.
Say what you will about those Swedes--the massages, the obsession with the meatballs, etc.--but don't ever doubt their ability to make moose-repelling automobiles!
In closing, if you ever find yourself headed for a moose and were stupid enough to venture into moose country without a Volvo or Saab, Dr. Moose has this bit of actually advice: "Aim for the hindquarters."
This, of course, is also good advice if--for some reason--you're trying to hit Shaquille O'Neal with a tennis ball.
