Things are looking up for Ladybug, a moose calf apparently orphaned during a bear attack in Anchorage in late May and brought to Kroschel Wildlife Center Friday.
Now about four weeks old, she is healing from multiple puncture wounds including an oozing hole in her shoulder. She’s also missing fur from her leg and back. A permanently injured leg means she can’t be released back into the wild.
“She looks like a lawn that has been mowed only in a couple spots,” Steve Kroschel said in an interview. “She’s happy. She seems confident, an indicator that her body is healing (but) you can definitely tell this moose had an experience. The story is written on her body.”
Bears commonly prey on juvenile moose. Kroschel said this attack came when Ladybug was about two days old and it claimed her twin and presumably her mom, who was “ripped to shreds.”
An emergency medical technician nursed (the calf) back to life, Kroschel said. The calf got her name while lying on an X-ray table at a clinic north of Anchorage, when the EMT noticed a ladybug crawling on the tip of the her ear.
The state contacted Kroschel and asked if he would take the calf. On Friday, Ladybug flew from Anchorage to Juneau on an Alaska Airlines jet, and then boarded an Alaska Seaplanes flight into Haines.
She traveled in a giant dog kennel and arrived at the wildlife park “folded up like a blanket and frightened,” Kroschel said.
After about five hours, he was able to get a few ounces of milk into the calf, who licked the drops that had fallen from the bottle and onto her nose. After continual feedings, he gradually gained her trust. “It’s a beautiful unfolding of a relationship,” he said.
Now weighing 65 pounds, Ladybug has put on 5-10 pounds since her arrival.
She walks with a limp that’s likely permanent.
Ladybug is bottle-fed 8-12 ounces, six times a day. Her formula’s ingredients include a milk replacer used for baby horses, protein powder made for orphaned whales and seals, unpasteurized goat milk yogurt, and pure mountain water.
Kroschel warms the mixture on the stovetop, checking the temperature with his fingers.
The formula is “irresistible to a moose,” but each detail of the feeding process is crucial, he said. For example, the hole in the bottle’s nipple must be just right. A hole too big or too small can make the difference between the baby accepting the bottle – and surviving – or not.
Ladybug also eats on willow, fireweed, birch leaves, and plantains.
In addition to her newfound appetite, she now spends her days roaming the acres of wetlands at her new home. Her area overlooks the valley, and is next to Kroschel’s cabin, so he can keep a close watch on her. When she’s hungry, Ladybug “makes the tiniest little cry that you would hear from an infant child at the age of one.”
He then responds with a sound that mimics a mother moose, and brings her a bottle.
Kroschel, who offers regular tours to visitors of the Wildlife Center, said Ladybug is “definitely a hit.” She’s brought visitors, particularly “little old ladies,” to tears.
He said she’s very trusting now, even around groups of visitors, who she recently let bottle-feed her. “Their breath was taken away by the beauty of this little calf, with big liquid eyes.” Her bug-like appearance – all legs, with big ears, like antennas – seems to add to the appeal, he added.
Kroschel has cared for about a dozen baby moose, but only one other that was injured, one hurt during a wolf attack that didn’t survive.
The others were orphaned, but healthy. One of these orphans was Karen, now four years old, whose mother was apparently killed on the Haines Highway. Karen and Ladybug are now the only moose at Kroschel Wildlife Center.
Kroschel described the importance of offering tours to the public. Visiting these animals allows people to connect with wildlife in a way that otherwise may not be possible. “It gives people something that’s not abstract in their understanding of the wild.”
Though she’s made significant strides since her precarious start, Ladybug is not in the clear yet. Kroschel said there’s now a very good chance that she’ll be fine; however, he and fellow workers are “still keeping (their) fingers crossed.”
“She’s a fragile biological treasure. I just take it one day at a time,” he said.