Will Obama Stand To The Enraged Moose? [Reader Post]

I raised a family of four kids on moose and elk, their diet was supplemented from a Peace River garden and a pig or two every year with milk and cream from half wild range cows. My children all enjoyed the lifestyle; however, they now all live a comfortable life in the city. They want me to retire in the mountains, so that I can expose my grandchildren to the same childhood they enjoyed as my ‘bush bunnies’. Of course a lot depends on what Mr. Obama does with the economy and indirectly with my retirement investments. I had hoped to be retired by now; those dreams have been washed away like Obama’s campaign confetti and lies.

None the less, my son has asked me to write this story. He remembers it quite well, for when your dad comes home one night visibly shaken, it makes a strong impression on an impressionable wee lad who thought of his dad as a typical character portrayed by John Wayne in a movie.

Although, he once rode the big jumpers in North America and Europe, he now says that he will never ride a horse again unless it is with his dad in the mountains with big saddles and big hats: it is nice to be a hero to someone in this life, even if it is only your son.

It was nearly dark, I had finished work early and grabbed my 8mm X 06 rifle to head out to one of the two moose licks on my ranch. A moose lick is actually an artesian spring that flows up through mineral enriched mud that animals crave. I have watched moose eat twenty to thirty pounds of colored mud that is washed out of the springs as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I had a little tree stand, about 20 feet high, built between two poplars that were three feet apart. Constructed out of 2 x 4’s, the first rung of the ladder was six foot off the ground, just in case kids ever wandered by and wanted to climb up the ladder, that wasn’t likely; but you should always be careful. At the top there was a plywood seat across two boards, it was just the bare minimum; however, I loved to watch the moose come in during the rut and fight for the rights to breed.

Like humans, there were several different personalities, most just fought head to head in desperate battles, others would lurk in the trees until two bulls were tied up in desperate battle and charge out of the trees to gore one of the bulls in the ribs, inflicting serious damage. It was great fun to watch in the evening if the moon and stars were out to provide enough light to see.

I had about a mile and a half run to get to the lick before dark, for on this night, I wouldn’t be there to watch: I was going to secure meat for the freezer, meat that would feed my family for the next year.

When I was within 200 meters, I slowed to a slow walk; yet, I was still trying to make time to get to my stand before dark and I was fast losing my daylight. I was within 60 meters of my stand, when I heard a moose leaving the lick at a leisurely pace. I cursed my clumsiness for spooking the moose and quickly called out with the challenge grunt of a 2 or 3 year old moose. Seconds later, I heard the answer to my challenge: it had the noise and intensity of a gravel truck rolling over on the highway. I have never been to Africa, but I have been to the zoo and when the Lions begin to roar at feeding time, you can feel your heart vibrating in your chest, that is what I was feeling as the enraged bull continued to roar and started his return trip towards me. I looked out in front and a six foot swath of twenty foot poplars were being mowed down as if there was some powerful machine out there in front of me and it was getting closer by the second, this was the length of his antlers, he had his head down and was on a desperate charge for murder and mayhem. I eased back the bolt to make sure I had a live round in the chamber, I’ve made that mistake before; but I didn’t want to make the same mistake again, not when one of us is about to die in the next few seconds.

Yes, there was a round in the chamber, primed and ready to leave the barrel at 2200 feet per second. I brought the stock to my shoulder and waited for this giant to break cover about 30 meters in front of me as he continued to roar. Then he started to veer to my left, my rifle followed the sound and suddenly, I realized I was aiming into a stand of Jack Pine with its characteristic black bark and I couldn’t even see my front sight, my light was gone and to survive this charge I would need to make a killing shot in less than a second on an animal weighing over a ton traveling towards me at over 40 miles an hour, in the dark with iron sights.

I decided to head to my tree stand, I covered that ground in nothing flat and made it to the top one handed (with my rifle in my right hand); wondering how I made the climb, only after I was seated on my plywood. The bull broke cover and was down below venting his rage at the human who challenged him as a young bull, he was mad and was beating up on trees down below. It would have been an easy shot, but the night sky offered no light and I sat in total blackness awaiting either a little light or for my macho friend to go somewhere else with his machismo.

Eventually, things quieted down or at least my new friend had quieted down and I wondered if I might climb down and go home for dinner, I certainly wouldn’t want to leave before my friend and end up crushed while the moose greased that massive rack of antlers with me against a tree. So I sat there fighting the numb butt syndrome, suddenly a spruce tree next to me began to move back and forth, I had felt an earth quake once before that had originated in Alaska and I figured that we had one happening now. I grabbed hold of the poplar tree to my right and watched as the spruce tree was uprooted and fell in front of me.

This was no earth quake, my antlered friend down below, took advantage of the spruce tree’s low branches and hooked his antlers under them and pulled the tree out of the ground in the hope of having a serious discussion with me. Thank goodness poplars don’t have that type branches; of course, he could have rammed the trees and thrown me out easier than a squirrel; but that didn’t enter into his thought processes and I wasn‘t planning on enticing him.

Several hours later, I climbed down and moved as silently as possible through the black night towards home and dinner, a much more humble man. My wife was disgusted that I was so late without any tasty morsels for a quick meal, my kids were shocked to see my hands weren’t steady. They still recall that night when I finally came home.

The next day I was listening to Paul Harvey’s show on my truck radio. In the Big Horn Mountains, up above Big Horn, Wyoming. A man’s remains had been found the previous day after being missing for 20 years. He was beneath the skeleton of a bull moose and he had a spent cartridge in his rifle.

It is one thing to be brave and foolhardy with your own life; however, those kids needed me at that time. I should have carried a good light with me and I should have headed for the tree stand as soon as I challenged the bull. Challenging a bull moose in thick brush is a stupid thing to do, unless you have an edge: I was lucky to be alive.

Although, I had worked as a hunting guide for many elk, moose and Grizzly, I was overconfident in my ability as a hunter. It is the nature of hubris, that it will catch up with you; if you are lucky, it will be a learning experience: if you are unlucky, you will be dead.

President Obama is now playing with our lives as carelessly as I played with my children’s future. Instead of facing up to a rampaging moose, he is tempting a far more dangerous animal, the human fanatic. By declaring that America wont respond to a chemical or biological attack with a nuclear response, he has given the green light for a rogue nation, of which there are several, to attack with nuclear or biological weapons and to attack with impunity, especially if our military is occupied on the other side of the world.

The threat of nuclear attack kept the Soviet Union and China at arm’s reach during events like the Cuban missile crisis when the nitwit Castro volunteered to Khrushev to start a nuclear war. Like it or not, our weapons have been a deterrent and now our president has decided that we no longer need our nuclear arsenal and seems to be intent on disarming our country incrementally.

This not a lone man standing up to an enraged moose, this time it is an entire nation that is being stood up against enraged nations, North Korea and the soon to be nuclear Iran are the first two that come to mind. Now we have become the insignificant pawns in Obama’s efforts to change the world, if our enemies see Obama’s entreaties as a foolish weakness that serves only to embolden them and weaken our allies, we will be the ones who pay for his hubris, incompetence, and braggadocio. Surely, even a Progressive Socialist Congress will see the sacrificial nature of Obama’s latest disastrous adventure into the realm of foreign policy. The Malignant Narcissus should only be given enough power to destroy himself and the Democrat Party, to be allowed to destroy the entire country because of his arrogance, insecurities, and personality disorders is going beyond the public’s indulgence of an incompetent.

Obama’s propensity for being a pathological liar and Malignant Narcissist are not only obvious to us; but to the community of nations as well. Dismissing his minimal intellect and accomplishments with the ‘I Won’ syndrome and attacking detractors as partisans who are plagued with ignorance and racism, he pushes forward with his sophomoric demeanor that fools only those who want to be fooled and certainly not our enemies. The inability to feel empathy with the American voter is a symptom of the Malignant Narcissist and is partially responsible for his ‘cool’ demeanor while his presidency is losing its mandate among the frustration and anger of a disenfranchised voting public. Rather than empathy, Obama becomes angry at the public’s impudence at failing to recognize his superior position in life, another symptom of the Pathological Narcissist. If he loses his ability to control those around him, he strikes out, using the race card as a last resort, he fights to maintain his control. Narcissistic control of a population is much easier for a president who maintains control with either love or fear; but when it comes to nations who have the personality of an enraged moose, the Narcissist loses his ability to intimidate and control.