by Jackie Drinnan

24When I was eight years old, my grandmother Ellen Simon and I were picking blueberries in a field in Wagmatcook, near where the school is today. We were always out picking something, whether it was berries or medicine for the family. We were always together and she always taught me something new and interesting in our adventures. On this particular day, it was more exciting than usual…

As we were talking and picking, she happened to look below the field and saw a moose coming up the field towards us. She told me to run as fast as I could. As I watched her run to the closest house, which was Marie Basque’s, I couldn’t help wonder that I never saw my grandmother run before, but she ran that day! I started running towards my house, a 1000 yards away. As I was running, scared as anyone can be, I heard a gun shot. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked behind me and I realized that the moose was no longer chasing me. I slowly walked back and saw the moose lying on the ground.

As I looked, around wondering what happened, I saw Eugene Peck with a gun. He happened to be at my great uncle’s Frank Pierro’s cabin visiting and was on his way out hunting that day. My uncle’s cabin was hidden in the woods. As my grandmother checked me over to see if I was alright, I told her that I was really scared and I remember her telling me that I was one lucky girl. As word got around Wagmatcook, people came over to see the moose and ask us questions. They were amazed at what happened to me and my grandmother.

I remember the men from my family and the Peck family, cutting the moose that afternoon and my grandmother saying to them, “make sure everyone who wants this meat, gets it for their families.” I am pretty sure that most of the people got the moose meat because they were still thanking us weeks later. I know my family ate really good for a long while after that day.

Ever since then, I am nervous of running into a moose in the woods, even today. When my husband Phil and I walk in the woods, I am always watching over my shoulders, listening. He asks me “what I am doing?” and I always respond, “remember my moose story”and he tells me,”I remember!”

From UINR Marten – Vol.1. Issue.2 – Winter 2005