I was trail running in Yellowstone National Park a couple years ago and was attacked by a blue grouse. It apparently was protecting a nest right on the trail. Now, a bird might not sound like such a scary thing, but I immediately flashed back to being five years old and flogged by large male roosters.

The grouse hopped into the trail behind me and started running at my legs. Of course, I started to run, too. I heard its wings beat closer and closer so I turned and then it was flying AT MY HEAD just about 10 feet away. Screaming, running, much commotion, flying down the trail being chased by a pi$$ed-off chicken. If anyone had been within a mile, they would have been sure a griz was gnawing on my femur.

I ran down three switchbacks before it took off and headed back to the nest, but I was frantically searching for a big stick to bat it out of the sky with. Duh, I had a HUMUNGO can of pepper spray on my waist. But your brain during these occasions does not think rationally.

I know, lucky, right, that I see eagles and coyotes and swans and bison and moose on my commute. But when the moose begins running parallel to your bicycle, then charges in front of you, not so cool.