24 Moose in 36 Hours: Our Backcountry Moose Safari
It’s no secret that we have a soft spot for moose. With their lanky legs; divided hooves, muscular shoulders and long, flexible snouts - they have come to represent resiliency in the rugged Canadian wilderness, sustaining themselves through harsh Winters despite the effects climate change is reeking on their habitat, morality and food sources.
We have so much respect for these majestic, twig eaters and often endure torrential downpours; unforgiving insects and unfortunate farmer tans in the hopes of photographing moose in the name of conservation and education.
May and June have always proven fruitful for moose sightings, so we opted to pack light and journey deep into Algonquin Park’s backcountry at the height of black fly season in late Spring. At the time, my career as a Producer was unrelenting and I was only able to pull myself away from set for 36 hours for an ambitious paddle. With Jesse up to the task, we braved the 2:30 a.m. wake-up call to drive to our put-in spot in time for sunrise.
Our location wasn’t chosen arbitrarily, this particular moose haven has been very generous to us in the past. To get there, we have to push through three portages, a few sketchy shallow areas and thick pockets of lily pads. But, the effort is worth it every time!
When our canoe hit the water that morning, we carved through the stream like butter - mesmerized by mirrored reflections of trees and loons diving under the surface to catch their next morsel. The gentle fog danced around us, acting as a beckon between destinations.
On this trip, I was particularly impressed by our pace. Being primarily motivated by our limited time away, we reached our campsite ahead of schedule, despite enjoying multiple leisurely paddles down smaller route systems before 8 a.m. To our surprise, we had the entire lake to ourselves - the silence was eerie, yet comforting and deeply satisfying. Dawn’s light was lifting and temperatures were rising, making our bug jackets feel like a contained sauna. To my relief, once we laid claim to our chosen site and hit the open water once again, I was able to abandon my sweaty bug jacket until the next portage.
As we turned the corner from our campsite, the haze from the sun dappled through the surrounding pines and illuminated a neighbouring beaver, who was keeping pace with our canoe. Opening up to a larger body of water, we felt as if we were entering the land of possibilities.
We sat idle in our canoe for 15 minutes, just soaking in the scene. Not even 20 minutes in, our first bull moose appeared from the shadows to take a mouthful of lily pads. As to not disturb him, we slowly drifted by in our canoe - snapping photos every time he lifted his head to capture the water droplets leaving his lips. When the moose tired of us, he disappeared gracefully into the bush.
Paddling forward, several yards away another moose appeared not 10 minutes apart, and then to the right, another! We started to believe that we should just flip a coin to determine which direction to point our lenses - this was clearly a moose all-you-can-eat buffet. This pattern continued into sunset. As soon as a moose moonwalked back into the forest, another would appear shortly after at the opposite end of the lake. We earned our dinner, putting our biceps to the test as we paddled the length of the lake back and forth all afternoon. With grumbling bellies, we retired to our campsite after witnessing a dozen individual moose encounters. All in all, a day worth of losing sleep over.
But, the day wasn’t over yet. When we returned, we could distinctly hear splashing around our remote island site as we unpacked our cooking supplies, and discovered fresh moose scat and tracks around our tent. This had to be a moose exploring the shore adjacent to us! Tired, but determined - we hopped back in the canoe in hot pursuit.
We circled the entire island, which took roughly 40 minutes. No such luck! Had we just gotten greedy?
Feeling now extra h-a-n-g-r-y, we abandoned our mission in favour of sustenance. As I began setting up shop, Jesse took a stroll to the site’s Thunderbox (a.k.a. the poor man’s bathroom).
As he sat, he could hear low grunting noises and worried that curry the night before had been a poor choice for him. As he lifted his gaze, he locked eyes with a sizeable bull moose, bedded down on the ground not 200 feet from him. We named this moose, “Thunder,” after his namesake, the Thunderbox. We scurried to get our cameras, being careful as to not disturb the resting beast. He was a big boy, yet totally contented by our presence. We were okay with sharing our island with such a handsome man.
After the excitement of the day before, the morning brought equal opportunities. We awoke to thicker-than-thick fog. We couldn’t see two feet in front of us! Periodically, the burnt orange sun would break through the mist and reveal our path forward on the water, only to disappear shortly after and leave us disorientated.
Approaching the same “lucky” lake, we braced ourselves for potentially hazardous encounters. Not being able to see, we relied on our hearing to guide us. As we drifted into open spaces, we could make out slurping and splashing. This was a good start! But, how close were the moose? Thankfully, the sun began to burn off the mist from the water and we could make out a bull and cow moose grazing in the middle of the lake. The fog circled the moose in large, sweeping motions and we were able to craft ghostly images of them as they fed in the morning rays.
We circled the parameter of the lake several times, encountering multiple bull and cow pairs feasting on aquatic plant life, nine to be exact.
Noticing our time was almost up, Jesse petitioned to leave our furry friends behind to pack up our campsite. Just as we put our plans in motion, a yearling emerged from the shadows and swam out in front of our canoe, only a few feet away.
For someone who had never seen a moose swim before this trip, I was elated! I was out of my mind happy! How could we leave now!?
Once the moose put his hooves on solid ground, we begrudgingly began paddling towards our campsite once again.
While en route, a cow and calf revealed themselves, just behind us. Doing our best J strokes, we turned our canoe around and tracked the moose as they cruised the shoreline - weaving in and out of the bush.
Calves walking on their spindle legs is goofy to begin with, but watching them dip their hooves in shallow water for the first time is ridiculously cute. We concluded that we were likely the first humans the moose calf had seen, given his size and age.
Just as mom and baby neared the end of the shore, mom turned and kissed the calf on the snout.
The perfect memory to end our backcountry adventure. The quintessential, Canadian goodbye.
24 moose in 36 hours! That’s a dozen moose a day!
That said, the moose we saw didn’t have blatantly obvious physical identifiers like a blaze on their chest or forehead - making it difficult to confirm whether some of these moose were repeats between the days. Still, this was an impressive feat.
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