Bardakian pronghorn moose
November 7, 2112
Octavio Briswald’s field notes
Fitzmurdle expressed reservations about our coordinates, but my instincts were vindicated; well before we landed, moosely bellows drowned out even the obstreperous clamor of our thrusters.
And, once we disembarked—what a joyful hulabaloo! The sonorous braying of the beast is enhanced by an echoing chamber on the forefront of its skull, and acts not only as means of communication, but also as a sort of aural camouflage. Given the planet’s thick, hazy atmosphere, the manifold bawling seems to assault you from all sides at once, confusing the senses. It is almost impossible to know an individual moose’s precise location–until his form suddenly emerges from the mist in front of you!
Leonard Fitzmurdle’s personal log
It has been a long week. In addition to Briswald’s boisterous enthusiasm for the current fad of “interpretive piloting,” he also got it into his head that we should create a new word for the pluralization of “moose.” Apparently the English language is in need of revision, and we naturalists are just the people for the job. Suggestions included “mooses,” “meese,” “mice,” and “mattle.”
I suppose I should end today’s log before I put myself at risk of court martial. I think I will go for a long calming walk among the pronghorned creatures; the meanings of their individual vocalizations remain a blessed mystery to me.
Other mentions: The noise they make has been compared to Klingon opera (TNG).
