Bryce Angell is a cowboy poet. Angell was raised on a farm/ranch in the St. Anthony, Idaho area with approximately 75 head of horses. Horses remain an important part of Angell's life. Angell shares his poetry with Cache Valley Daily every Friday.

Since moving up to Island Park, I’ve seen game on the loose.  There are elk and deer and buffalo.  Oh, did I mention moose?

We’re living in our camper while the builders do their stuff.  Last Friday night one hollered, “Well, I think we’ve done enough.”

I watched the last truck pull on out.   Then tied the makeshift gate.  I stood there feeling lonely.  It was time to take a break.

I had a mighty thirst and thought I’d grab a soda pop.  I was heading for the camper faster than a bunny’s hop.

I rounded out the camper corner.  Stopped dead in my tracks.  A moose was giving me the eye.  I’ve heard of moose attacks.

And standing by the doggone moose a timid week-old calf.  I’m sure the moose was thinking that she’d tear me clean in half.

I busted out a running.  Barely climbed into my truck.  Someone was looking over me.  ‘Twas more than just dumb luck.

So, I called my aged father.  He would know just what to do.  But I heard him laughing.  Then he said, “Just try and holler shoo!”

And then he said, “If she is mad the hair stands on her hump.” I said, “That cow is mad as hell!  Her nose was on my rump!”

I blew the horn in hopes the noise would scare the moose away.  But she blew her nose right back and spewed my window with moose spray.

It must have been the panic what my mind would soon recall.   My windows did not streak.  I’d sprayed em with some ArmorAll!

I can’t believe how long a moose will stay and stare you down.  But she finally wandered off.  I bet my underwear was brown.

Next day I had to wonder, “Was the incident so bad?   I’d have to say, “Heck yes it was!  Next time I won’t call Dad!”

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