The dead moose is a twisted heap on the side of the highway. He is huge, maybe 900 pounds. Looking at him you have to ask; how many servings of moose meatloaf could you make out of this moose?
If you’re not asking this, you’re probably not on the road kill list.
Alaska has a “Road kill list.” Basically, if you can haul it away the meat is yours. Except for the head which needs to be turned in to the Fish & Game agency for their records, of course.
My initial thought when I heard about the list was that there were probably 3 people on the list. And those 3 people were related. But it turns out the list is a long one. You could wait up to two years before you get the call, and you better be ready when you do. The highway patrol will try to wait with the carcass until you arrive so no one else takes off with it. So, apparently that has been a problem.
“We’re getting on that roadkill list,” my husband Mark promised me before we moved to Alaska. And he was serious. “That’s one more reason why we need to buy a truck.”
If I had any reservations about moving to Alaska, or buying a truck, they vanished right then as I fantasized about Mark and I on a dark highway at 1:00 am, trying to heave a bloody 1000 pound bull moose into the truck bed, all while not creating a mess with the internal organs or getting struck by oncoming traffic ourselves. #datenight
Unfortunately, Mark didn’t end up meeting the qualifications for getting on Alaska’s road kill list. I had to blink back the tears when he told me.
I will say though, I appreciate that there is such a list. It is so…resourceful, which is so Alaska. Leave it to a hunting and fishing state to not let any meat go to waste. To do so would be, well, just embarrassing.
https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/moose-salvage-network-alaska
It happens more often than you think:
“I’m so mad!” my daughter Tatum yells looking out the window at the dead moose (Tatum would be a vegetarian if it weren’t for pepperoni) “How do you not see a big moose? That driver is so stupid! Just like dad!”
Yes, just like dad. Dumb dad. As dumb as they come, dad.
We aren’t ones to talk when it comes to accidents involving wildlife. It was just a year ago when we were driving back from a weekend in Steamboat, Colorado. It was dark, there was a blizzard, and we were the only ones on the road at 5 a.m., which is one way to avoid the ski traffic. I’d say this particular drive ranks up in the top five of the scariest drives of my life, we were sliding all over the place. I was just glad the kids were sleeping quietly in the back. Just when the weather started to clear, and my heart stopped beating so hard, a deer. A deer trotting casually onto the road. On dry roads we might have been able to stop…I prayed that the deer would clear the road before we got there.
“You can’t slam on the breaks,” I say to Mark.
“I’m not,” Mark says.
“Don’t.”
“I won’t.”
The car starts to slide. He turns the wheel to adjust.
“You’re overcompensating”
“I’m not over compensating.”
“Only you are.”
If our final moments on earth were spent bickering about his driving, it would be only appropriate.
I still have nightmares about the last second before impact, the deer glanced sideways at us as if to say, “seriously?”
What to do if You See an Animal on the Road:
Most run ins with wildlife happens at dawn or between 9pm and midnight. The advice is the obvious, keep an eye out for wildlife, don’t speed, and don’t try to swerve around the animal.
The one thing I didn’t know but learned from this Canadien source is this: If a collision is inevitable, slow down as much as possible but then release the brake right before impact.
And turns out we were lucky it wasn’t a direct hit. What I thought was blood we discovered a minute later was windshield wiper fluid. We didn’t pull over to a stop as there was no shoulder, icy roads, and poor visibility, and if I learned anything from my older brother it’s these two things:
- Guys don’t like girls who don’t know how to shoot pool because they will cause the guy to lose in a couples game.
- Unless your car can’t drive, never stop on the side of a highway.
We were in the middle of nowhere and it took awhile to get a signal to make a call. By the time we got the right county police dispatcher, we were miles away.
“The animal isn’t still on the road, but it must be laying somewhere nearby,” Mark explains.
“Still sir, you need to turn back and meet the officer,” the woman on the other line tells Mark.
“But we are 30 minutes past the site…” says Mark, who had a full clinic of patients that day starting at 8.
“If you don’t turn back you’ll be arrested for a hit and run,” she warns.
Seriously?
Cut to a gas station, about 30 minutes later:
“You were told you would be arrested for hit and run?” the officer says, incredulously (and after telling us the deer likely survived because there was little car damage and no sign of the animal).
The officer chuckles and shakes his head, “you must have talked to Carol.”
He chuckles again.
We aren’t sure what’s funny. Are we laughing because Carol is known for being dramatic? Or are we laughing at our gullibility because Carol was just messing with us? I don’t think it is the second, but if it is, I want Carol to be my new bff.
But Mark wasn’t as amused. The three hour ride home he kept breaking into this, “Hi, I’m Carol…” routine he had picked up from the movie, Office Christmas Party. I will say, his imitation is pretty good.
Apparently, Mark is still not over Carol the dispatcher and what may or may not have been her intention to make a bad morning worse. This summer at my sister’s baby shower, when we were asked to submit an anonymous list of our Top 5 girl names for her to consider, I knew which list was Mark’s because it looked like this.
- Carol
- Carol
- Carol
- Carol
- Carol
My sister ended up going with a name that my son had written down, Ruby.
Mark’s award winning sauces:
I promised myself I would at least try different kinds of game when I moved here. But, I’m not sure about moose. Maybe I’ve become too fascinated by The Moosestalker. He appears when I least expect.
For Easter dinner, we thawed out a few Elk steaks one of Mark’s patients gave him. I didn’t hate it, but I’m just too used to beef I guess. The only reason I had more than a couple of bites was Mark’s peppercorn sauce.
Mark is on a bbq team. Yes, competitive bbq. Last year when we were at the Frisco, Colorado BBQ challenge, I saw a t-shirt that read, “My Drinking Team has a BBQ Problem.” I’d say that sums up Mark’s bbq team. Out of 70 plus teams competing, Team Clarence rarely makes it in the top 10 or even top 20 in the most competitive categories, but, they have a fun time trying.
There were two exciting exceptions over the years.
There was the year Mark placed second for bbq sauce. He won’t give that recipe up. And then there was the time he placed second in Rancher’s Reserve sponsored contest for sirloin. I am sure what pushed him to the top was the peppercorn sauce he drizzled on top of the steak. Which is this Williams Sonoma recipe. Throw this sauce over any cut of meat to make it work, even roadkill.
https://www.williams-sonoma.com/recipe/classic-steaks-au-poivre.html
End Notes:
Sometimes the meat from roadkill can’t be salvaged, like if there is extensive internal damage. When you are on the roadkill list you’re still obligated to haul it away though. The moose that collapsed at my feet the day we moved here had been shot through the stomach which contaminated the meat. https://pokingthebear.org/is-death-a-bad-omen/
Oh, and the cover photo is not of moose roadkill. It is a shot of Mark’s Memphis-style spare ribs.