A new year's moose moment

Fog hid the upper reaches of Cheyenne Mountain. The clouds that obscured the mountains and Pikes Peak for new year’s eve dropped a glaze of snow on the entire town. There was no difference between ice and powder. 

Still, I headed up the mountain for a first-day trip through the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. The drive was not as treacherous as it appeared, and zoo visitation was light at opening. Besides, I find therapy at the zoo, watching the animals long enough that they forget your presence, if not their own captivity.

Staff milled about, but no one followed my path into the Rocky Mountain Wild section. I always start here, because these animals are mostly natives and typically stay active when people are not around. Usually I go for the Mexican gray wolves, mountain lions, or the rambunctious porcupine. 

This time I stopped at a duck pond on the edge of a ravine He stood across his habitat when I arrived, grazing on sprigs of grass on the snow-covered ground. He took immediate notice of me watching him.

 At four years old, Atka looks every bit of a bull moose in his prime. When he first arrived, he was little more than legs and a head. When his mother was killed in a car crash, Atka was just eight weeks old, far too young to survive in the wild. He’s been in human care nearly his entire life. He had to be bottle-fed till he was old enough for solid foods. 

But that 80-pound baby pushed past 1,000 pounds in 2025. He wore a sturdy set of antlers, the velvet long gone. In the wild, you would give him a wide berth. At the zoo, the fences allow for closer interaction. The longer I stood there, the more curious he was. He moved closer until he reached the fence and trees that kept him in.

As I spoke softly in his direction, he made a few soft noises, not quite moans, but gentle moose whispers. His ears never pulled back. Wild mammals can change mood on a dime, but he seemed at ease on this snowy morning. 

He pushed his snout on the net fencing, as if hoping I had something for him. Maybe food, maybe scratches, I couldn't really say. I didn’t have any food for him and told him as much. The distance was too far for me to reach his snout without crossing the thigh-high barrier, and I was not feeling like being the first person the zoo kicked out in 2025. 

Mostly I just stared at the massive ungulate five feet away. I don’t have good words for the feeling. But starting my year with 15 minutes of one-on-one with a captive moose … what else can I say? Just standing so close, being in that presence warmed up my morning. 

 Then came the voices of  people coming up the hill to Rocky Mountain Wild. I decided to bid Atka a good 2025 and move on. I would visit again, probably several times before the zoo's busy season, but the start of the year felt like a moment that would not recur.

 Leaving him, I headed uphill in the snow. I felt eyes on me and turned. One of Cheyenne Mountain’s three mountain lions stared at me from less than five feet away. I instinctively jumped back two steps despite the fences between us. The predator sat within pouncing range and I stayed oblivious.

The cat continued to study me. I moved again and he bounded up the rocks in his exhibit to watch me from above. After my time with the moose, another close encounter was asking too much.