Snow One Like You Read Free

Maynard.” Rhys
scratched their long muzzles.
    In his excitement to see Rhys, Manfred
stomped the man’s foot. “You’re the heavy one,” he joked. “I was
thinking Maynard looked a little thin.”
    “ Dr. Brooks stopped by the
beginning of the week,” Allie informed him of the veterinarian’s
visit. “He figures they’re both close to three hundred pounds now.
That’s a good weight for eight months.”
    “ You both still have skinny
legs.”
    “ That’s not going to
change.”
    “ You’ll get antlers in the
spring,” Rhys shared. “Your first set may not be terribly large,
and you’ll lose them once again in the winter. Given time, they
will be huge. Size matters, guys. Mating season, and the females
are attracted to big antlers. You’ll want a rack that’s six feet
wide.”
    Allie laughed at his fatherly advice.
She patted each moose, and Maynard nuzzled her shoulder. She loved
the twins. It hadn’t always been easy for them. They had struggled.
She thought back to that April day when she and Rhys had discovered
the abandoned calves while hiking unmarked mountain trails. Rhys
knew the peaks and valleys like the palmistry of his hand. The air
was clear and pristine. Nature unspoiled.
    They had crossed a stream and climbed
boulders. Allie slipped on a mossy slope, and jerked to save
herself. It was in that moment she saw the moose. Huddled on the
ground, skin and bones, and shaking. They appeared newly
born.
    She’d called to Rhys, and they
cautiously approached the two. They weighed barely twenty pounds
each. And were too weak to stand on their own. No mother was in
sight. No mother returned. Twilight slid between the trees. Shadows
deepened the danger. They were vulnerable to the night. To
predators.
    Rhys drew out his iPhone, and
contacted Snowbound Refuge. A local wildlife sanctuary and
rehabilitation center. Due to renovations, sections of the shelter
were inhabitable. The buildings that remained were at maximum
capacity with injured wild turkey, a red fox, several deer, and a
bear cub. Although several of the rescues were soon to be released
back into the wild, it would be too late for the tiny moose. They
needed temporary placement. Right then. The situation was
dire.
    The veterinarian offered advice on
keeping them warm, how to mix and bottle their formula. Dr. Brooks
later promised daily visits to check on the boys. If a home was
found. The vet cautioned Rhys and Allie that the newborns might not
live. Which left them both with heavy hearts.
    Rhys didn’t allow Allie to feel sad
long. They’d exchanged a look, and a decision was made. They became
the caregivers. It was a huge responsibility, yet there was no way
they’d leave the twins on the mountain. They would do this.
Together.
    Rhys made a further call to the lodge,
and, within twenty minutes, an employee delivered his Jeep
Renegade. The rear seat folded down, and the cargo space was lined
with a tarp and old, wool blankets.
    Rhys then took slow, guarded steps
toward the moose with the reddish fur, short tails, spindly legs,
and hooves that would later serve as built-in snowshoes. He didn’t
want to frighten them, more than they already were. Allie walked
closely behind him, her hand on his shoulder, wanting to assist.
Within minutes, and without protest, the calves were carefully
lifted and loaded in the Jeep.
    There were no empty out-buildings at
Forester Lodge, so they decided to house the twins in the
dilapidated barn behind the general store. It was insulated.
Heated. Assessable. Cords of wood stacked one wall, next to a snow
blower. An ancient Artic Cat had seen better days of snowmobiling.
A tall, metal locker housed skis, snowshoes, and ice
skates.
    Manfred and Maynard, as they were
named, survived the first week, which was crucial. Rhys lived at
the lodge, yet took up temporary residence at the general store.
They were a team. He helped bottle feed and care for the calves, as
they adjusted to their surroundings. They followed