Bullwinkle learned a valuable lesson though, recently.
Don't mess with Grandma. Especially when she's a secret Shovel-Ninja.
Still unaware of the danger her husband was in, she yelled for him to come help her with the dogs.
On instinct, she ran to where the action was. "And the moose started after me."
Taylor raced back to the truck but instead of jumping in for safety, she released the tailgate to look for something she could use. She grabbed a big grain shovel that they keep on hand to dig out if the truck gets stuck.
The only large animal that has ever really "come after me" was a medium sized bull moose. It happened on a hunt on Hess Creek by Livengood North of Fairbanks (Was there at Ft Wainwright with Charlie Airborne). We had this fellow caught on a hairpin bend in the creek and I guess he didn't feel like swimming to escape. He came around 180 and headed right at me. It was a supreme "what now" moment. It turns out he was so fixated on me he didn't notice my buddy in a clump of brush and ran past him at 8-10 feet. Harry raised his '06 and snapped off a shot that hit the moose high in the neck and cutting his spine. Moose piled up, drama over. That was some good meat and fed us for a long time.
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