Nose To Nose with Beauty. Protected from a Moose encounter in Fairbanks

Wild Moose Encounter

NOSE TO NOSE WITH BEAUTY

My reflection stared at me in the eyes of a young bull moose. He stretched out his neck and held his nose even with mine. Frosty nostrils, the size of my thumbs, flared and blew steam on my face, fogging my sunglasses. I kept as still as possible; however, something spooked the moose and he pivoted and galloped across the ski trail. Frozen with bewilderment, I missed my opportunity to escape. The bull trotted back toward me again, coming within inches. As he examined me with his left eyeball, I counted his eyelashes.

I reflect upon this experience often. While it’s fun to tell it to tourists and visiting family and friends, I never leave out the important lesson I learned that day. I am a lifelong Alaskan who grew up seeing moose and other wildlife on a daily basis. While I was thankful for my familiarity with moose in that particular instance, I was most grateful for my understanding as a beloved and protected child of God. I attended a Christian Science Sunday School throughout my childhood and continued going to church at the local branch while in college (where I was when I encountered this moose.)

Now, fast forwarding ten years, I was retelling this story to my teacher recently while taking Primary Class Instruction in Christian Science. ( A 2 week intensive class on Christian Science available to anyone) I was learning more about handling animal magnetism and how tricky erroneous thought can be. Mary Baker Eddy, the discoverer of Christian Science, uses the term animal magnetism for error, or any thought that is unlike God’s perspective. I was also learning that the absolute first thing to get rid of when giving a treatment (or healing through prayer) is fear. Denouncing fear right away lets the patient seeking healing to see more clearly the solution to their problem. The shock and fear from the moose’s proximity only seemed overwhelming, clouding my judgment.

So, just before seeing the moose, I was beginning a ski workout at a nordic ski park with a couple of my college teammates. I crested a hilltop, teammates in tow, when the young bull moose walked up a perpendicular trail and met us at a junction, standing twenty feet to our right. My teammates acted faster than me and skied around a corner out of the moose’s way. The young bull started approaching me, so I backed into a willow. Its branches enveloped me and I found myself stuck, unable to move.

At first, I reached out to my teammates, almost pleading, “What do I do? What do I do?” Shock overcame me and I momentarily forgot what to do in a situation like this.

An angel message, a thought from God, came to me. Be still. Have peace.

As the animal crept closer, (and not yet fully adhering to that first angel message) I recalled a discussion with fellow skiers about how to protect ourselves from a charging moose. “Take off your skis if you have time. (I did not have time.) You’ll be more agile,” someone said. “Stick your poles out in front of you.” Ski pole tips are sharp. “You can stab the moose to death!” another joked. But these suggestions were all disguises of animal magnetism trying to convey itself as good ideas. Was I going to allow error to control this situation? No. I decided to test my faith—even though at first it seemed like a “mustard seed” compared to that 1,000-pound mountain of an animal.

This thought relates to the account in the book of Matthew when Jesus told his disciples if they even had “faith as a grain of mustard seed” they could move mountains, and “nothing shall be impossible unto you.” (See chapter 17:20.)

I found my peace. The angel messages came firing. I calmly instructed my teammates to also be quiet and be still. All the while, I never took my eyes off the moose.

It felt as if God was speaking to me through the young bull. He was young first of all—hadn’t had much experience with a human. I recognized his forward, flickering ears; His massive head turned as he examined me closer with his burnt sepia, golf-ball-sized, right eye. These were all signs that this God-created creature was only curious and had no intention to harm.

You are so beautiful, I told him silently. His hair appeared combed, well groomed.

Heat radiated from his body. My fear melted away.

Silently, we communicated we were both patrons sharing a trail. Both good, beautiful creatures of God’s creating. Both brave to stand our ground. Both peaceful in one another’s presence. Then, finally, we were both ready to continue our separate ways. This time, when the moose darted away, so did I in the opposite direction.

So, what was the important lesson(s) I learned from this encounter? First, finding peace in what seemed like a potentially dangerous situation. And, second, changing my perspective from fear to beauty. This peace enabled me to think more clearly, recognizing the young bull’s behavior and acting accordingly. I am also very grateful that it was my reflection in the moose’s eyes, and not one of my foreign teammates who did not have as much experience with these animals.

How blessed I was all those years ago on that ski trail. Divine Love was with me then, as He is with all of us (including moose!) right now—protecting, guiding, and influencing us throughout our daily experiences.

Dayva Flaharty

Fairbanks, Alaska