One Antler Moose

Just because it's been nearly a year since I last spoke of him, doesn't mean One Antler Moose isn't still out there; snorty and dangerous and eager to gore.

From the archives, July 24, 2005

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One Antler Moose

The worst mistake anyone could ever make would be to assume that One Antler Moose is half a moose. One Antler Moose only has one antler, it's true, but that fact doesn't reduce his capacity to kill--if anything it doubles it.

See, the problem most moose encounter when they're trying to kill something is that almost everything they want to kill is narrower than their antler span. The moose are indecisive, left/right, with their antlers and often end up simply tickling their intended victims with soft, velvety ears.

One Antler Moose doesn't have this problem.

One Antler Moose always knows which antler he's going to use.

One Antler Moose and Latigo Flint have a wary respect for one another. We each see in the other an impressive ability to maim.

"Hello there One Antler Moose." I say whenever our paths cross.

He replies with several snorts and tail shake.

I grin. This joke is as warm and familiar as an old stove.
"I don't know One Antler Moose, what's the worst thing about goring a fat forest ranger?"

One Antler Moose flicks his ears and snorts again. I start chuckling. Just because you already know the punchline doesn't mean the joke isn't funny.

"Same as you ever were One Antler Moose." I glance at my pocket watch.

One Antler Moose clears his throat and paws at the ground.

I smile. "Yeah well, not if I see you first."

We continue on our respective paths, glancing over our shoulders as we depart. Over time a squinty-eyed gunslinger and a one-antlered moose can certainly become unlikely friends. He and I have already proved that. But it doesn't mean either of us wouldn't kill the other in a heartbeat should the opportunity present itself.