A Memorable Maine Moose Sighting
About a month ago, I embarked on an idyllic summer of living and working at Schoodic Institute, a science partner of Acadia National Park. I’m here for a 12-week internship in science communication, accompanied by other early-career professionals working in research, restoration, and education.
When we’re off the clock, it’s no surprise that us outdoorsy 20-somethings are keen for adventure. We’ve explored islands that can only be reached at low tide, hiked stunning summits, and driven sizable distances for contra dances. It was only a matter of time before I encountered iconic Maine wildlife on one of these journeys.
I first camped at Lily Bay State Park in July 2023. Nestled on the shore of Moosehead Lake, campground visitors can fall asleep to haunting loon calls and wake up to the sweet songs of winter wrens. I had yet to see a moose in my lifetime and arrived at the park with high hopes of an encounter. Maine’s moose population is the largest of all the lower 48 states, estimated at 60,000-70,000 individuals. According to web searches and pamphlets from Maine visitor centers, Moosehead Lake was a prime location for spotting the state animal.
Despite their hefty physique, moose can be surprisingly elusive. I learned this lesson the hard way; after days of scanning my surroundings for the colossal creature, I went home having seen nothing larger than a white-tailed deer. That trip left me with a fierce desire to catch sight of the species. Moose crossing signs taunted me on every road trip through New England. As the months passed, my expectations dwindled.
Almost a year later, I returned to Lily Bay State Park in early June. My friend and I played a game of reverse psychology with the universe en route to the campground, jesting, “We really don’t want to see a moose on this trip. They are so lame.” And somehow, it worked.
The following day, we drove to Mount Kineo. I slowed a few times to admire mountains in the distance, but slammed on the brakes when he spoke the magic words from the passenger seat: “Moose. Nina, I’m serious.” Pulling over, I searched the marsh until I locked eyes with the young male. Even as a juvenile, he loomed over the landscape. I can only imagine the impressive size of his adult form.
We crept out of the car to watch from a distance as the spectacle went about his browsing. The air was still and silent save for the occasional throaty gunk of a green frog. He appeared peaceful, unbothered by our presence as he plucked leaves from bushes. After a few minutes, he lumbered into the woods and out of sight. Given that some Mainers wait decades to see their first moose, I will forever be grateful for this fleeting and unforgettable moment.
This was the best our phone cameras could do. Luckily, the image remains crystal clear in my memory. Image Credit: Nina Foster
