Sunday morning, the girls and I met a moose on the trail near Mer Bleu.
Seriously. A big bull, with a full rack, he seemed to fill the space under the forest canopy where he stood, blocking our return home. We had ventured out early-ish, and had made our way through woods and clearings, covering, I guess about 4 or so Km.
We had just turned around when we saw him. We were in a large clearing, and after backing J and A down the trail a bit, I found a place where I could stomp down the undergrowth (about chest high on me) and pull the girls further off the trail, despite their bare legs and skirts. We heard him huff and puff, and I threw J’s apple core to one side. Then we heard him crash through the brush that-a-way, and shortly he was out of our earshot. We waited, then we carefully proceeded back the way we came, going as fast as little legs would take us past the place we’d seen him.
After that, we saw our first people on the trail. We told each group in turn what we had seen, and they all seemed impressed and appreciative. One couple, with twins in backpacks and a 3 year-old on foot, took the opportunity to walk back to the car with us, which was a boon because A was announcing she was too tired to walk further. With a new friend in tow, the girls zoomed ahead, A suddenly filled with energy.
It was a banner weekend for the great outdoors.