Where's the Moose? - Alaska, part 1

 Alces alces  (Latin)

Moose are everywhere in Alaska.  You can find them in school yards, you can find them in backyards, you can find them in yard gardens, you can see them walking down the right of ways in Anchorage, you can find their antlers adorning entrances, exits, dens and over fireplaces, you can find them or parts of them anywhere you look – anywhere that is except for Raven Bay.

Whenever I had a question that gnawed at me concerning local matters while living in Raven Bay, I always asked my good friend Nanook.  Yes there really is a Nanook of the North. 

Nanook was a wise man.  He had lived all his life in Raven Bay and one of the first of a growing number of villagers that had sought and received a college education.  Except for time spent in college he never has left his village for very long however, and had no visible means of support, other than welfare, subsistence hunting, and the yearly oil money.  His life style was by choice.  He could do any paying job that was in the village but mostly was only interested in acting as an elder, advisor, and a wise old sage.

So with all his local knowledge and wise sageism, with a degree to boot, I was sure that he could explain to me why the absence of moose.

“Nanook,” I asked one day, “Why are there no moose in Raven Bay?”

“Because they are some where else.”  He replied.

“Yes, I have figured that out, but ‘why’ is the question.”

“Why do you always ask questions when the answers make no difference!

“Nanook, we have been friends now for a long time.  You have helped me blend into the community and you have put your feet under my table more than once, as I have yours.  I think you know the answer to my question so why don’t you just tell me.”

“You would not believe me, talk to the Shaman.”  With that he walked away.

Shaman?  Well so much for the scientific and educational part of his nature I thought.

My wife was cooking dinner later that night and I casually mentioned my conversation with Nanook.  I said that I had thought that shamans did not exist anymore around villages and if they did I certainly didn’t know who it was. 

She just laughed and said, “Oh, you mean Jimmy Rivers.  He lives out by the old dunes.  Sort of a hermit the kids say.”

The impossible becomes the possible when you put it in the hands of a woman who substitute teaches and small children who appreciate the fudge and Italian cookies she would bring them each time she was called to sub. 

I was surprised she knew who the village shaman was.  Beverly didn’t know that she was not supposed to know nor did the kids know that they were not supposed to tell.  However, candy and cookies are eagerly consumed once presented and there must have been a direct correlation between treats and wiggly tongues.

“Why don’t you go ask him?”

To be continued…