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mere tag end of the aurora borealis, 

 but full of suggestion, like the low- 

 lidded eyes of a Buddha. It seemed 

 to push far away the merely physical 

 things, the cramped position, fatigue, 

 hunger and general soggy chilliness. 



We were the last to arrive. Sally 

 had a thrilling tale about a cow- 

 moose and two calves, one a buck 

 with little nubbins of horns. She 

 had surprised this family group 

 quietly feeding on marsh grass in a 

 desolate place that had once been a 

 smiling forest full of arboreal life, 

 but which fire had reduced to a mass 

 of fallen timbers with a few naked 

 masts. A lumberman's dam several 

 miles away had backed up the water 

 of a stream so that the whole ruined 

 region was submerged two or three 

 feet. Fire and water were not here 

 the rough jokers one must laugh 

 with, but had been converted 

 into destroyers by the ingenuity, 

 and for the benefit, of money seeking 

 man. And the victims, once glorious 

 age-old trees, still bore sad witness 

 to the power that had wrecked them 

 years ago. 



Sally first saw the mother moose 



