Before you can see what it is, the animal leaps onto the road.

With his enormous body and long legs, he thunders through the trees at full speed. Branches crack and break.

Only then does it sink in what you have just seen.

A moose.

A male. His antlers were not fully grown.

For a little while, you keep watching the forest. As if he could reappear between the trees at any moment. But you know he will not.

You drive on at a crawl. You scan the forest for any movement. Large boulders covered in dark brown moss keep fooling you. They look like hairy moose bodies.

Not much later, the forest opens beneath a row of transmission towers. Young birches grow close together along the wide clearing.

Something moves in the distance.

You grab your binoculars.

Another one.

And another.

Well, I’ll be!

Two moose look at you for a moment. A few seconds later, they disappear between the trees again.

A smile spreads across your face. For the past few weeks, you have found signs everywhere. Flattened saplings. Hoofprints in the mud. Droppings. So many droppings.

Every time, you thought you were close, but no luck.

Not even a glimpse.

Until today.

You are certain. This is where you will spend the night. Right in the middle of moose territory.

A little farther along, you pass a hunting stand. Or what is left of it. The structure is close to collapse, and brush grows right through it.

Are moose still hunted here?

The road ends in a turnaround loop. Ahead of you lies an open strip along the forest edge.

This is the place.

The sky darkens, and the first drops hit the windshield.

You quickly step outside and unfold the tent. The drops grow heavier. You make it inside just before the downpour begins.

You pull on a dry sweater and prepare a bowl of hot soup. Through the window, you look outside. The dark clouds begin to break apart, and light reappears on the horizon.

Good, because you have a mission.

Tonight, you are going on a moose expedition.

On foot.

Here, in the middle of the nature reserve.

As soon as you step outside, you feel tiny pinpricks on your skin. You swat at your neck, then your arm, your face. Tiny flies swarm around you.

You frantically wave your arms around.

Midges.

Biting midges, gnats, or punkies. Whatever you call them, the tiny biters find every patch of exposed skin. So small that you can barely see them.

You try not to scratch.

Because it itches.

Oh, how it itches.

Still, you continue down the trail beside the bushes. Soft grass grows between the two gravel tracks. Slowly, almost silently, you place one foot in front of the other. Your eyes scan the area from left to right.

What if one suddenly leaps out of the bushes?

Focus.

A rustle from the bushes.

Carefully, you round the bend.

You raise the binoculars to your eyes.

There.

Between the young birches.

A female.

She calmly chews on a branch.

The buzzing around you grows louder. Mosquitoes land on your hands and face. You try to swat them away. You feel them bite. It itches, and you want to scratch.

But you remain perfectly still.

This is the moment you have been waiting for.

Slowly, you raise the camera. Through the lens, the moose looks even larger. A dark brown coat. A long muzzle and large ears.

You slowly crouch down and take a photo.

Click.

Her head jerks up.

She stares straight at you, her ears perked.

You barely dare to breathe.

Then a pebble crunches beneath your shoe.

Uh-oh.

She bolts.

With a few long bounds, she disappears between the trees.

As if she had never been there.

You lower the camera and look at the screen.

Finally.