I pet a wild moose once. It wasn’t due to stealth, or bravery on my part. Rather, an unfortunate yearling bull had brain worm which left it unable to do much other than walk in a tight circle in a field near our home. So I took advantage of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get close enough to a moose to pet it and, at the same time, wow our kids, who were sitting in the car a short distance off. The poor thing was doomed to a miserable end and later dispatched by folks from the Minnesota DNR.

It’s difficult witnessing the natural world at times. Every animal contends with daily threats and struggles, and each needs to be resilient in its own way. Their need to be wary can lead to unnerving incidents between humans and animals, and I’ve had my share with both wild and domesticated ones, some of which I’ve noted before. These incidents warrant more explanation, but I’ll provide a brief review.

When I was a wee tyke, an angry mallard hen flew kamikaze-like into my chest as I attempted to return her lost duckling. In years to follow, a confused juvenile coyote charged at me from thick ferns, likely mistaking me for its sibling play partner. A smallmouth bass repeatedly thumped me while swimming near her nest. (It was just a bass, but I too watched Jaws) A most significant moment occurred a decade ago when four “curious” timber wolves (according to the wolf expert I spoke with) approached within a dozen yards of me as my bottom jaw dropped to the forest floor thinking I was a goner.

In the domestic arena, I’ve been chased up a tree by a rooster (again as a wee tyke), kicked by a horse, ganged up on by geese, bitten by dogs (all of which were slightly taller than my ankles), knocked off my feet by a protective Herford cow, and nearly trampled by a stampeding herd of them. Nobody needs to convince me to leave a wild buffalo or grizzly bear alone – a thought that painfully eludes the senses of a few Yellowstone tourists every year.

Leo is retired and lives in rural Cook with his wife, Lindy. He is the author of three books, She Won’t Mow the Daisies, The Cabin Experience, and Life Over Easy. Leo can be contacted by email at llwilenius@gmail.com.

But now, there is a new wildlife encounter to add to my list, and it occurred just the other day – a peregrine falcon attack. You don’t hear that one every day. I suspect a club made up of members who have pet a wild moose and were attacked by a peregrine falcon would be a small group indeed, or at least fewer than the Minnesota Kicked by a Horse Society.

About peregrines, they’re the fastest animal on our planet, with dives clocked at 240 mph. They reach this speed when hunting other birds, but like most raptors, they’ll catch and kill just about anything that moves that’s of the correct size. Peregrines nearly went extinct in the 1970s as pesticides of the time weakened their eggshells, leading to a devastating decline in successful hatches. Today, they are flourishing and can be found around the world, generally nesting in the far north, including the Arctic Circle. The City of Duluth has had peregrine falcons for years, and you can watch the activities of two nesting sites on Minnesota Power’s FalconCam, which brings us to my encounter.

I have a “FoxCam” (trail camera) set up on an active fox den in an open forest cutting. I was on my way to retrieve the FoxCam when the falcon attacked me from behind, coming so close I could feel the rush of wind from its wings. A second attack was a full-on frontal assault, which sent me into a hasty retreat. After zipping (more like tripping and falling) a quarter mile across the forest opening, I thought it would be safe. But no, the falcon came at me yet again; only this time, I was ready and recorded the bombing raid on my cell phone camera before reaching the safety of the woods.

All this said, the experience was a gift, much like my close encounter with the moose. It was a unique experience. Most likely, I was near a mother peregrine’s nest site, so her concern was understandable. Her commanding view of the fox den also has me wondering how the four fox kits have fared, but I’m waiting for my courage to catch up with my curiosity before making another attempt to retrieve the Foxcam.

The fury of a mother grizzly bear is well known, however, the fury of a mother peregrine, cow, bass, duck or any mother animal is about as intense. Indeed, attacks by birds over the years has given them a psychological edge on me. Remember, I was only five or so when the death-defying duck attacked me and the rabid rooster chased me down the driveway and up a Norway tree. Fortunately, my father witnessed the rooster attack and came to my rescue. If Dad hadn’t been my hero before that, he certainly was then and many times after I might add. I wish I would have told him he was my hero when he was alive. Happy belated Father’s Day Dad. You’re still my hero.