The ground shook as the moose’s hooves pummeled the forest floor. The immense antlers parted ferns and bushes, and it seemed the plants moved out of the way themselves before the bull could even touch them.

The moose bellowed again.

Officer Bertil searched for a tree, but they were too thin to offer protection. His only chance was the patrol car.

There was no need to look behind. He could hear and feel the moose gaining on him. He could picture it though, torturing himself with images of bulldozer antlers and manic eyes. At the last second he dove onto the patrol car, skimming the hood like a fat seal on a piece of ice. Unable to control his momentum, he slid off and thudded onto Julip Road. Bertil rolled and heard a sick crunch as the car lurched. The moose thrashed the vehicle with its huge antlers, punching holes in the metal siding. The leviathan huffed and kicked gravel, rocking the car as if it were merely a baby crib. Bertil lay flat on the road, tight against the driver’s-side wheel, his right leg under the squad car. He drew his firearm, creaking leather accompanying the crunch of gravel under keratin.

The space between the road and front bumper provided the only westward viewpoint. Soon a hoof appeared, and another. The moose’s gigantic head swung around the front bumper in his direction. The antlers were poised to inflict maximum damage if need be. One of the weathered antler points was stained white from patrol car paint. Bertil aimed his firearm at the moose’s right eye. If he could get a bullet in there, he had a shot at the brain.

The moose gazed at him, its breaths slowing. A moment later the moose emerged entirely from the front of the squad car, and Bertil’s heart pounded in awe at the magnificent specimen. Rocks dug into his thighs and gut as the moose stood only a few feet away, staring at him with wary ungulate eyes.

What a fooking predicament, he thought. This is one he’d have to tell Jennifer. The animal story of a lifetime, the time daddy was charged by a moose.

Bertil took a deep breath, firearm locked onto the moose. A plump red ant scrambled across the chips of gravel in front of him like the Mars Rover.

The bull moose, now much calmer, turned his head and glanced up the road. Then it huffed and trotted east into the yellow birch. The last Bertil saw of the moose was its antlers rising over the understory as yellow, shedding leaves floated down. Hands shaking and stomach queasy, Officer Bertil picked himself up and swatted his uniform a few times. Satisfied the danger had passed, he holstered his firearm.

No one will believe this one, he thought.