A moose quietly creeps through the forest on a winter day, but creeping gracefully, not hesitantly. Almost in slow motion, as it steps through the powdery snow in the dense Alaskan forest. The snow is pearl white and the trees are tall and frozen. Their bark is bare, with no leaves to share. The dry air engulfs the forest, sifting through the delicate snowflakes blanketing the ground. If there is a sound, it is carried by the sharp winter breeze. At the sight of some berries, the moose quickly averts its mysterious path in the expanse of white. Hard to come by, because of the season, the moose following its instinct; has every reason. These temperatures are hostile to some; but winter greets him, makes no difference to him. A dense fur coat may be heavy, but he is always ready. Once summer arrives the fur thins and a new cycle begins.