A Moose is a Moose, of Course, of Course

Nothing says "Alaska" like moose.  Whether you visit once or stay for years, you will have a moose story by the time you leave (if you leave!), or at the very least, a t-shirt, key chain, coffee mug, or hat with one of these fantastic creatures emblazoned proudly across it.  

This morning I woke to a moose pawing gracefully at the bag of trash by our curb.  A few hours later, a cow visited the salt lick on the edge of the yard.  The next afternoon, the same location was visited by another cow and her twin calves, while a second new female bedded down in the trees.  I never tire of watching them, and remain fascinated by how similar their movements are to the horses that dot the fields at my parent's ranch.

 
(photo copyright Jan Bowers, Anchorage 2009)

While you can learn just about everything you ever want to know about their feeding, mating, sleeping, and other behaviors here (did you know that a fully grown bull moose can weigh up to 1,600 pounds?)  or here (did you know that moose are the largest members of the deer family?), it is hard to describe the impact moose have on Alaska until you experience it first-hand.  From front yard photo opportunities to big game hunts, car accidents, and assaults on local gardens, these horse-like creatures affect the way Alaskans plant their vegetables and flowers, drive, eat, and live.

To me, moose symbolize growth.  I doubt I will ever lose the sense of excitement I felt the first time I met one - she emerged from the brush and came tantalizingly close to the passenger door of our car when stopped at an intersection on our way down to Whittier.  Now I observe roadsides, forests, and other open spaces with a greater sense of calm, allowing my eyes to grow old and center on the gentle giants who do not change as quickly as we do.  I have learned how to moose-proof a garden, tell a young bull from a baby cow, and identify the signs that it is time to move away (every year people are injured or killed by moose, most commonly in car accidents, or by cows protecting their calves.  When their ears turn back and flatten against their heads, it is time to go!  A lowered head, prancing, and curled lip follow if the animal remains threatened.  I strongly suggest that prior to any potential encounters, thoroughly research the creatures and their behaviors, and afford them the respect of a large swath of space.  Moose can travel up to 35 mph, but will seldom run far after a fleeing target.  If a moose does charge you, run.  If you are trampled, curl into a ball and protect your head and torso while doing your best to avoid the hooves.)

This year, however, I was humbled by the chance to lay my hands on a moose when we took a bull on a fall hunt (see older entries to learn more about that adventure).  As he breathed his last, I allowed my chest to fall with him, and   found words shimmer to our shared surface.   These words changed my life, making clear to me a connection that needs to be explored.  For now, though, I simply share them with you, that you may join our circle:

You are here.

Thank you for your gift.

Thank you for providing.

I will remember all that you saw.

You will nourish me.

I will grow strong.

Strong enough to roam these mountains

as you did.

I feel you.

Until we meet again,

thank you for your gift.

(all photos copyright Jan Shultis 2009)

Alaska is for writers

A seemingly obvious statement due to the whole "nature," "adventure," "bears bigger than horses," "moose on the porch," "last frontier" thing, but humor me.

I say Alaska is for writers (or painters, musicians, and craftsman) because I believe that creative persons need two things to actually create - 1) grand experiences, and 2) time and space to let these experience simmer, brew, toss and turn over themselves, and emerge as a hopefully fragrant stew.  It helps if the latter is a period free of distractions, so nothing remains but to catapult from the status of "person with a great idea" (i.e., everyone with a brain) to "one who logs off the internet, steps away from the cell phone, and creates."

Alaska provides both of these opportunities in a cycle as regular and simple as our sun.  Summers are for work, play, and ranging far over mountains and rivers.  Winters are for huddling close, embracing the darkness and building your own light, free of fear and full of faith that the sun will rise again.  Summer is for doing.  Winter is for surviving.  For a writer, that means writing; for a painter, picking up a brush; for a musician, placing fingers to strings, keys, and stops; for a craftsman.... I'll have to google it, but I'm confident it's an equally stimulating season.

I wonder what I will see this winter, this holiday season.  It can be hard to write in southern California, hemmed in on every side by people and cars and sun.  The snow waits for me, so deep and crisp that I will have no refuge save my own thoughts.  I look toward it eagerly.

More words of wisdom - writers should always carry a notepad, pen, and paper with them, so if the snow pours forth in an avalanche and you are trapped for days, you have something to do.  Musicians, grab your composition book.  Painters, pack a sketch pad.  Craftsman.... I'll have to google it.

Get out there and grow!

I have been thinking a lot lately about my relationship with the environment, the lands around me, my family, other women..... and food.

I am blessed to have women on both sides of my family, in both Alaska and the vast empty lands of Texas, who believe in the importance of growing and making their own food.  They garden and cook for many reasons - a sense of satisfaction, the chance to make things exactly the way you like them (pesticide and chemical free), and to save money (one of my favorite cookbooks, Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, shares that making a loaf of bread costs approximately 40 cents.  I figure that my loaves are closer to 50 cents because I enjoy experimenting with different seeds, nuts, and other toppings and ingredients, but regardless, it's a far cry from the $3.00 that is the starting price at my local grocery store, and closer to $5.00 for the whole wheat and sprouted grain varieties we truly enjoy).

For the women on both sides of my family, winter means time to pull out the seed charts and order directly from the grower (Peters Seed Company has great vegetable and herb seeds at fair prices.  I particularly enjoy their cold-tolerant hybrids.  This year I am asking women from Fairbanks to Anchorage to test the Alaskan Fancy, a new tomato seed; I'll let you know how it goes!  Even in warmer climes, I enjoy northern varieties because they provide early yields).  Most of my garden remains in pots as I bounce from place to place across the country on military duty, so I take the time to stock up on space-saving items while they are on winter discount (this year's addition - potato and salad bins from Gardener's Supply Company, one of my favorite suppliers).  Early spring is perfect for starting seeds indoors; late spring is the season to get your hands dirty and move those slender shoots into the ground.  Summer is for watching, harvesting, and preserving.  My Italian mother cans up to 40 large jars of completely garden grown, homemade spaghetti squash in a plentiful year, boils down pears for jellies, pulls lemons from trees for lemonade, and breaks out the sealer to preserve everything from whole pies with her own fruits (just pull out and bake) to squash dishes.  My Alaskan mother-in-law produces potatoes the size of both hands, freezes enough spinach and carrots to feed at least three families that I know of throughout the winter, and hosts summer parties that feature margaritas made with her wild strawberries.  Fall is for late crops if desired, frantically harvesting before the frost, and giving away anything you can't fit in your own freezers.  Winter is for fostering gratitude for a bountiful harvest, and beginning the planning cycle again.

This cycle, based upon seasons, different every quarter, yet the same year after year, is deeply satisfying to me.  I believe that while men and women are equal in capabilities, talents, and abilities, we remain fundamentally different.  I believe it is right for women to connect to the earth, and to her loved ones around her, by cultivating one to share with the other.  Perhaps this connection is part of what makes Alaska so appealing to me.... the growing season there is short, but bountiful beyond compare, and the harsh winters make delineation between points in the cycle finite and clear.  Haven't experienced the satisfaction of growing your own food?  Then whether you choose a single herb or an acre of vegetables, it's time to get out there and grow!