The King of the Forest

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Most places have some kind of tourist appeal. In New York, it’s the skyscrapers and diversity. In the Bahamas it’s the sandy white beaches and bright blue water. In Sweden, it’s the moose. A few years ago, my aunt’s brother-in-law, Leif, decided to open up a moose park. I laughed at this idea, wondering why anyone would pay to see a moose.  I had seen them in the wild several times and didn’t think of them as much more than overgrown deer. I didn’t give Leif’s plan much more thought, assuming nothing would come of it. However the next summer Leif had already bought two moose and had opened a moose café. My family and I went on a tour, just out of curiosity. We were pulled around a fenced-in area by a noisy tractor. I did see the moose but I had come closer to them walking my dog in the woods than I did at the park. I left feeling sorry for Leif and his wife after all the time and money they had put into this project, just to have it fail. A few weeks later, to my surprise, Leif proudly announced that he had had visitors from over 350 different countries. Every time we passed his farm the lot would be filled with cars. I am still surprised now, years later, to see how busy the moose park is every time I’m visiting my aunt. It is interesting how something so common in one country can be a source of joy and wonder to people from other cultures.