We were dirt poor Irish up Kent County, and, when I was a lad, the dirt was so poor, all we could grow was potaoes and pulp. Couldn't afford a horse, so we used moose fer plowin the potatoe fields in the summer and fer twitchin pulp in the winter.

In the spring, in the bog country, she's too wet fer ta do anything. In the fall, no way you could twitch a log on accounta the logs was so big, a cow moose couldn't twitch and the bulls had horns so big they couldn't get through the bush to twitch... them bulls had horns so big, they had ta come outta the woods in late summer just ta turn around... and couldn't go back in until winter after the shed.

But, when they was working the field, it was a sight... the whole family perched up on them antlers, Gramma's side on the left and Gramp's side on the right, orange and green eh, and the city kin up fer the summer got ta ride on the hump. Wished we'da been able to afford pictures.