Wild Moose Chase by Siobhan Rowden Page B

burst out of the gloom.
    â€œMmmmooooooooaaaahhhhrrrrrr!”
    Mr Zola screamed as a gigantic bulbous muzzle loomed up above them.
    â€œMOOSE!” he shrieked, frantically trying to jump back up on to the roof.
    Shocked by its unexpected visitors, and unnerved by the thin man jumping up and down in front of it, the moose began to moo-growl louder, stamping its feet and swinging its huge head from side to side.
    â€œMmmmooooooooaaaahhhhrrrrrr!”
    â€œIt’s going to charge,” yelled Mr Zola, hopping manically round the carriage. “We were safer on the roof.”
    â€œStop it!” shouted Bert. “You’re scaring it.”
    â€œ I’m scaring it ?” screamed Mr Zola.
    â€œYes, now get a grip!”
    Mr Zola shrank into a corner and covered himself in hay. The moose calmed down and backed off to the rear of the carriage, eyeing the twins warily. It really was the strangest creature they had ever seen. Its four long spindly legs didn’t look strong enough to support the huge body and even bigger head. Two great antlers stuck out from either side, framing a nose the size of a dinner plate.
    â€œWhat’s it doing on a train?” asked Bert, looking around the carriage.
    There were several bales of hay and a bucket of water with a couple of empty bottles beside it. The bucket had a panda stamped on the side.
    â€œLook,” said Cam. “That’s the sign for the World Wildlife Foundation. They must be relocating the moose. Maybe they’re taking it back to the wild.
    Bert slowly walked towards the moose and held out his hand. “It’s OK, big fella,” he said, gently. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
    The moose snorted suspiciously before sniffing his hand. Very gently, Bert began stroking its huge muzzle.
    â€œI see why you’re so nervous,” he whispered. “You’re not a ‘fella’ at all, are you? Cam, come here and look.”
    From out of the gloom a tiny moose calf ventured from beneath its mother, its dark, worried eyes flicking from one child to the other.
    â€œAnd where there’s a moose calf…” said Bert.
    â€œThere’s moose milk,” finished Cam.

 
    Moose Milk
    â€œDid someone mention moose milk?” asked Mr Zola, popping his head out of the hay.
    â€œYes,” said Bert, still gently stroking the enormous moose, “and we have to make friends with this lovely lady if we’re going to get any.”
    â€œImpossible! I’ve already explained that I’m moose-phobic. Poor Monty will turn white if we have to stay in this carriage a moment longer.”
    â€œHe already has,” giggled Cam.
    Mr Zola whipped out a hand mirror from his man-bag and studied his moustache. It was covered in hay.
    â€œMonty!” he chided. “You’re a disgrace!”
    He produced a silver pair of tweezers and began picking out every strand of hay. Cam turned to Bert.
    â€œI can’t believe he’s telling his moustache off,” she whispered.
    â€œJust let him get on with it,” said Bert. “Let’s concentrate on getting some moose milk. It must be just like milking a cow at home … but bigger … much bigger. I’ll keep her distracted while you milk her.”
    Cam looked around for something to put the milk in and spotted the empty water bottles lying beside the bucket. She grabbed them both and walked slowly towards the mother moose. But when it saw her coming the moose pulled away from Bert and trotted towards its baby with a great, “Mmmmoooooooo aaaa hhhh rrrrrr! ”
    Cam staggered back and Mr Zola disappeared under the hay again. Bert sighed and held his hand out to the baby.
    â€œC’mon, little one,” he whispered. “If you come closer then maybe your mum will too. We just want to share some of your milk.”
    The calf tottered over on its skinny little legs and nuzzled against Bert. It was closely