Moose-terious Happenings and Bullet Mockery

I wake up cold, hypothermic, and shivering in a shelter that feels like it’s holding back winter by sheer stubbornness. Outside, the air is still heavy with yesterday’s storm. I light a torch—not for light, but for morale—and step outside to grab sticks for a fire.

That’s when I hear it. A low, deliberate snort. Snow crunching under something big. My brain takes about two seconds to put it together: the Moose is still here. Still patrolling. Still grumpy. All I’ve got is a flare gun, three flares, and zero confidence this will be anything but moose-poking practice.

Later research confirmed flare guns actually can scare or even injure moose. At the time, though, I pictured wasting all three shots and ending up as hoof-print art in the snow.

Sidebar: Flare Guns vs Wildlife

• Wolves: Scared of everything, including your hesitation. Flare gun = instant retreat.
• Bears: Works if you’re quick and accurate. Miss, and you’ve just upgraded it to “angry bear.”
• Moose: Vulnerable, but charging moose leave little margin for error. Pray your aim is better than your panic management.

Fire, Coffee, and False Confidence

I retreat inside, break down a couple of stools, and get a fire going. Coffee brews while my temperature climbs from “freezer aisle” to “slightly uncomfortable.” Caffeine courage in place, I decide to make another break for it.

I crack the door. Two cautious steps outside—then I hear it again. This time I actually see the moose, casually stomping away from me like it owns the place. Which, frankly, it does.

I seize the chance to sneak toward the picnic area, hoping I’ll finally find a revolver or rifle. Spoiler: no. Just more snow, more silence, and the nagging sense I’m on borrowed time.

Panic Sprint to Orca

Plan B forms in my head: head to Orca Gas Station and regroup. The snow crunches under my boots, the wind whistles between the trees—and then I hear a noise behind me. Could be the wind. Could be antlers. I don’t check. I just run. Full panic sprint, torch flaring wildly, straight to Orca’s door.

Inside, adrenaline still in overdrive, I make a silent vow: if I live through this, I’ll cook everything I can get my hands on. Meals will be my legacy.

Bullets Without a Gun

The walk back to Grey Mother’s is uneventful, which feels like winning the lottery. I throw myself into cooking: rabbit stew, venison stew, boiling water—anything to nudge my Cooking skill higher. Somewhere in the process, I drop off 32 revolver bullets into storage. The universe clearly thinks this is funny.

Three separate attempts to repair my climbing socks all fail. Morale drops. I sweep Grey Mother’s house again just in case a revolver is hiding in the corner. It’s not.

I end the day reading a book to boost my harvesting skill, the flickering lantern light casting long shadows. Outside, the moose is probably still wandering. Inside, I’m still stubborn, still alive, still armed with only a flare gun and misplaced optimism.

Day 5 Summary

• Location: Milton Region
• Finds: 32 revolver bullets, coffee, stew ingredients
• Wildlife Watch: Persistent moose
• Conditions: Cold and tense
• Status: Warm, fed, moose-adjacent

Continue the Journey

◀ Customloper Diaries – Day 4: Prybars, Pancake Plans, and the Blizzard Lock-In
Customloper Diaries – Day 6 ▶