It’s Illegal in Alaska…
…to drop a moose from an airplane. Seriously! It’s the law. Apparently, the Moose Union is strong up north and parachutes are not. How did this law come about you may wonder? Years ago, a small town in Alaska came up with a contest that involved painting a bunch of moose poo(s?), putting numbers on the moose poo, and dropping the moose poo from an airplane. Townsfolk, I’m assuming all carrying umbrellas, would eagerly await below and gather the droppings until some lucky Talkeetna resident yelled out: “Holy S—t! I won.”
The problem was PETA misunderstood, and pictured an actual moose trying its best to use its antlers as a propeller as it plummeted to its death while squashing numerous Talkeetna residents, and they protested. So, city officials stepped in and banned both moose and their droppings from ever being released from aircraft again. And so ended moose poo bingo.
In Fairbanks, Alaska, city officials have made it illegal to give alcoholic drinks to a moose. At first, I figured this must be a sanitation issue as moose spittle is surely hard to get out of cocktail glasses. But it turns out a local tavern keeper had a pet moose and would get it drunk to amuse his patrons. Not sure what I would say if a moose leg was suddenly thrown over my shoulder and not-so-sweet musings bellowed into my ear: “Er, sorry, it’s not you, it’s me…” or “I’m thinking of joining the clergy…” or “I have this rash…”
After the tavern owner’s mammal had one too many moose-tinis, though, like many hairy creatures you have probably seen at bars, it would go on a drunken rampage, thus ruining the bar scene for many responsible moose drinkers.
But, as they say, where there’s a moose there’s a way. And one such moose, who resided in Anchorage, developed a taste for fermented crabapples. The six-foot-tall bull would clean off all the lower branches and then stumble about, often getting tangled in strings of lights until he found an unoccupied park bench to sleep it off.
“Should we run him in?”
“Nah! I just vacuumed the cruiser.”
A local journalist named the moose… wait for it… Buzzwinkle! And he became a local celebrity. People would pose for photos with Buzzwinkle, and even at night no flash was required as he was always well lit.
How does one gather such valuable insights of the Final Frontier? Simple. Take the Anchorage Trolley Tour. Jacob, our driver, had many fascinating stories.
“Just off to our right is Park Strip. In its earlier days it was both a landing strip and a golf course – at the same time – giving a whole new meaning to the term playing through.”
“And hitting a flier,” I jested. Apparently, there were not many golfing aficionados aboard.
Jacob also told us about President Harding’s visit in 1923. His staff emphasized how cold it could get in Alaska, so Harding wore his heaviest wool suit. Unfortunately, it was July and the temperature hit 97 degrees. He probably couldn’t wait for the sun to go down, which in July it seldom does. “Seward’s Folly!” he may have mumbled.
After the tavern owner’s mammal had one too many moose-tinis, though, like many hairy creatures you have probably seen at bars, it would go on a drunken rampage, thus ruining the bar scene for many responsible moose drinkers.
The trolley passed a small airstrip loaded with pontoon planes and I thought how fun it would be to go up with a local pilot. “Average age of these planes is fifty-seven years old,” Jacob told us. “Sometimes the owners have to make their own parts.” So much for that thought.
One of our final stops on the trolley tour was Earthquake Park. That’s where Jacob gleefully told us that Alaska has about 300 earthquakes a day. Instantly, I felt the trolley shake, but it turned out to be just the cruise ship couple in the front row angling for a better view. “The quake on Good Friday in 1964, which measured nine-point-two, forever altered our landscape.” He pointed out a trail that led to rippling hills in the forest that we could explore. “The quake travelled around and through the earth and even rang a bell three times in Johannesburg. The ensuing tsunami killed more than 100 people.”
At the end of the trolley tour I jumped out and started walking. “Where are you going?” my wife asked.
“To the bar. Moose or no moose, I need a drink before we all die.”
