A journalist observes life in the far north.
Alec returned last night from a moose hunt with his dad. They shot no moose but he brought home this image, taken at a secret hunting location off the Denali Highway near the Alaska Range. The location is so secret that I am not meant to know where it is because I am a well-known blabber mouth.
The Turner men shot a moose in 2007 but have come up short the last two years. Alec says some people at a nearby camp shot a fine-looking bull the day before Alec and his dad arrived. They delayed their hunt a few days to avoid a rain storm.
I heard Alec on the phone telling the story of the hunt. The way he sees it, the other people shot his moose.
Lucky and I had some excitement while Alec was gone. I was visiting a friend in town on Thursday. I was standing about 10 feet away from the baby when she abruptly started to scream. I looked over and saw an over-turned jar on the ground beside her. I grabbed the jar and smelled it. There was gasoline inside and Lucky managed to drink some. We all panicked, called 911 and Lucky and I took an ambulance to the hospital for our first-ever visit to the Emergency Room.
There was a 3 percent chance Lucky would contract chemical pneumonia so they took a chest X-ray and we waited for six hours, until 2 a.m., to see if she would get sick. Then we came home. She’s fine but I’m still a bit rattled.