Moose Hunting or Moose Fishing?
August 31-September 5, 2005

Through a local charter school, I've worked with one home school family since 1997. We took the youngest boy, Steven (age 8), with us to the homestead for some intense one-on-one schooltime in a highly motivating environment. It was the first time he'd been away from everyone in his large loving family for such an extended time. He anticipated a great adventure.

It was hunting season at the lake. The second day Dennis got up very early. He tiptoed around carefully so as not to awaken Steven. He took some things outside to pack onto the four-wheeler. When he tiptoed back inside, there was Steven, dressed in camouflage and sitting cross-legged on the bed, wide awake. He didn't say a word, but when Dennis asked if he wanted to go hunting, he nodded enthusiastically, eyes shining! Despite rain, mud, cold, and long hours of silent waiting that morning, he didn't complain.

Three other friends at the lake bagged a big moose on the mountain September 4. It was a cold, rainy day, and they spent hours butchering it and hauling it down through the brush to their boat.

That afternoon, Dennis received a call from a friend who needed help after his trailer broke an axle a couple hundred miles down the road. Steven and I relayed him out to the road with four-wheelers. When we got back to the cabin, I checked on the hunters through the scope. They were launching their boat. Good.

I went back to work with Steven but suddenly realized that I hadn't heard the motor coming back across the lake. I checked again, and saw only the boat hull, upside down. Not good. We raced to get help, bailed our boat, and headed across the lake. Halfway across, Steven saw one of the hunters waving his arms from shore. He was attempting to walk around the lake to get help. The hunters may have been hypothermic even before the boat overturned! He was very glad to see us!

We sent the guys back to their cabin in our boat to dry off and warm up. Steven and I pulled their boat into shallow water, turned it over, and bailed it out. Only one pack of moose meat was still in the boat—scraps, we were later told.

Fortunately, the boat had overturned close to shore and the water wasn't especially deep. In fact, the guys were able to fish their gear, the rack, and nearly all the moose out the following day. Bet you've never heard of moose fishing!

Late that evening, when the adrenaline was slowing down and we were preparing for bed, Steven asked, "Have you ever helped save somebody's life before?" I said, "No, I haven't. You have, and you're only 8 years old!"