Toasting the World’s Largest Ungulate
Toasting the World’s Largest Ungulate
Wine in Quebec
On summer nights in Quebec’s Saguenay-Lac-Saint-Jean region, a few people remain at Zoo Sauvage De Saint-Felicien—roughly translated as Wild Zoo—while the animals run free. The people camp inside an electric fence that ensures the only midnight snacking involves marshmallows.
Our guide steered our mini-bus around grizzly bears, bison, and elk before pulling into the section of the forest that houses the campsite. Locking the electrified barrier that keeps animals with pointy teeth out, the guide led us through towering aspen trees and waist-high ferns, stopping suddenly to point at a dark silhouette hidden by bushes. It was the world’s largest ungulate, and our neighbor for the night.
Forest ranger Ghislain Gagnon started this facility in 1960 with two crows, envisioning a different kind of zoo. Standing a few yards from a moose that could look an NBA player in the eye, and with only mutual respect separating us, I felt Gagnon succeeded. The moose plucked shrub leaves with ruthless efficiency from a bush, its branches bouncing from the assault. Consuming pounds of vegetation each day meant the moose was more interested in eating than troubling us.
Carrying on, we reached a sun-dappled clearing in the forest. Clustered around a large fire pit were several prospector tents, stove pipes poking from each roof. A wooden paddock held two spindly-legged moose calves with mitten-sized ears. The zoo had rescued these orphans and later, we would feed them.
Wanting to build moose-size appetites, we dropped our gear and took a shortcut back through the fence for a pre-sunset paddle around Lac Montagnais. Our guide kept her canoe between shore and us lest we inadvertently annoy the Volkswagen-size muskox slumbering there.
Leaving the muskox as we found them, we scurried back to camp for cocktails. The moose banged their water buckets against wooden rails hoping for a bottle. We sat on camp chairs hoping for a bottle. Soon red and white wine flowed as foil-wrapped meals simmered over the fire. A blend of woodsmoke and pine tickled our nostrils, the air filled with stories retold in English and in French, the wine giving everyone courage to try a few words in foreign tongues.
Looking for the outhouse, I wandered into the shadows when a ghost-like creature glided into view. The caribou’s shy gaze collided with mine before it turned away, its silver-grey fur blending silently into the forest. I was locked in the zoo after dark and the only bad thing was how quickly night passed. I headed back to the fire to toast the wild zoo.