“Two days ago a moose was seen on the island. It swam towards Greens Island when last seen!”
— The Wind, Vinalhaven, July 20, 2006
Dear Mother,
Forgive my tardiness in writing. You have been in my thoughts often, though you understandably might not think that the case. All you knew was that I suddenly disappeared. Yes, that time had been approaching, after two long years of growing up, when I would have to leave home and find my own way in the wilderness. I was keenly aware of that transition, my gawky adolescence blooming into feminine maturity. You would expect me to find the right mate and begin producing progeny. Yet, excited as I was to anticipate my adulthood, I found myself wondering what I really want in life. Motherhood is such a commitment that I am reluctant to rush into it, unwilling to compromise the devoted parenting every young moose deserves. I needed to think about life’s choices. For the time being, I am drifting a bit, expanding my horizons by traveling beyond the marsh and forest we call home. Those stories told in our youth around the campfire left an impression. I remember well the legend of a young moose who sought to test her mettle. All of us glowed with pride, knowing she swam a great distance to a far-away isle described as a land of milk and honey. I have traversed that bay of Penobscot myself now. After launching myself from the embrace of land’s stony shore, for several hours that first day I paddled in glistening, salt-tangy sea. I came upon a rocky outcropping most unexpectedly yet propitiously an island Eden, a delectable delight. Dotted with spiky conifers and fragrant with rosa rugosa, it was resplendent with a tumble of beach peas, ferns, grasses and berries. In this way I reconnoitered the waters, fortifying myself upon similar verdant oases. Perhaps most magical have been my evenings. After supper al fresco, under a cerulean- and crimson-streaked sky, I rest supine atop a cushion of moss, eyes fixed on the darkening firmament above. I am enchanted nightly by the pageantry of starry choreography. All this has conspired, despite my prolonged absence from you, to fill my days with a kind of wonder and delight. Unexpectedly, this sojourn among peaceful places has brought me finally to an island where few moose have ever desired to live. It is called “Vinalhaven,” a busy place, with humans, houses, cars, boats, dogs, and a rod and gun club. Yes, some deer also live here. And raccoons, rabbits. They are, however, standoff-ish. They hiss at me, “Day tripper.” The people I see are actually friendly. As I swim to and fro across the Reach, sometimes visiting Green’s Island for a day at the beach or to forage chanterelles, fishermen cheerfully wave as they pass me in the water. They seem excited. Perhaps they imagine me as flirtatious. But rest assured, I am being treated well. The humans have been welcoming, even though I know I am considered “from away.” They console me, saying, “Away happens.” Yes, I have gotten to know several. My new friends — two women — were drinking coffee early one morning, just like me, tucked on to a place called Dyer’s Island on the Reach. Sue Armstrong wanted to take my photo and I obliged, letting them know I’m shy but polite. Then the other, Carol Thompson, asked how she might help me. She works at the motel; maybe she thought I’d want a room. I told her I’d like this letter mailed if it weren’t an inconvenience.
Mother, I know the rutting season begins in the fall. I know your hopes for me. Even though this is presently a one-moose island, I have put my faith in fate. The Historical Society says that the last moose spotted here on Vinalhaven and Green’s, a female, was in 1927. (Our esteemed elder? Perhaps!) But one visited North Haven several years ago. With providence, when the time is right, maybe my soul mate — life’s intended — will show up. Maybe we are the special few, those of us who hear the Fox Islands’ siren song and dare to answer.
Enclosed with this letter and my picture are hugs and kisses and my prayer that we will be together again in the future. Think of me kindly; I ask your blessing.
Your loving daughter