Crying For Mama



It's a week after the ice went out on the Yukon River. A buddy and I loaded up in the boat and went on our annual egg gathering trip down river. It would be our first major trip of the season. We were in search of waterfowl eggs to be savored as our spring ritual.

We traveld in the boat down the river, that had for the last 8 months been locked under 4 feet of ice. It was good to see and smell the murky water that was laden with silt and looked much like chocolate milk that Willy Wonka himself would be proud of.

As we entered a small slough, we went down the outside passage of a small willow-choked island that had been underwater in the spring floods just a few days before. I spied a cow moose on the island with two small minitures of herself, that had just been born a a day or two ago.

I instructed that the boat be slowed, as to not spook them, and as we idled past I snapped two quick photographs. One calf slipped in the soft mud and after standing, bawled for its Mama who was standing in the willows just a few steps away.

It was a moment I wish never to forget, and have captured in time forever.

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