Gary Olson is working hard to convince Anchorage we have a problem: too many orphaned moose calves. Olson, a founder and chairman of the Alaska Moose Federation, has asked the Legislature for $1,441,500 to rescue, rear, and release orphaned calves into the wild. He'll get it, too, unless the grant is cut from the bloated capital budget drafted by the Senate.

When Olson founded the AMF in 2003 he latched onto the idea of an annual moose roundup. Moving calves to rural areas wasn't a new idea. Wildlife biologists and hunting organizations had moved moose calves at least 10 times between 1949 and 1967. Most of these transplants were unsuccessful or unremarkable, lots of calves died in captivity and at the release sites, and wildlife biologists had grown wary of public proposals to stock moose. However, Olson and other AMF members remain convinced that rural moose populations are in trouble and one way to increase them is with infusions of city moose.

Over the objections of the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, the AMF, with Olson leading the charge, asked the Legislature to enact a "nuisance moose" law in 2004, allowing them to move moose out of Anchorage.

The ADF&G wasn't on board for several reasons. Although Alaskans have successfully transplanted moose calves several times in the past, notably on the Copper River Delta, these were in areas with suitable habitat, few or no predators, and little competition from other browsers. With the short list of suitable sites exhausted, the moose federation hopes to drop calves in areas with less suitable habitat, many predators, and existing moose populations, like near Skwentna.

Moose calves suffer higher mortality rates without cows, and there is little chance that calves raised in captivity will survive their first winter in the Bush. A dire concern is disease. Moose calves from settled areas or those raised in captivity are more likely to contract infectious diseases from livestock, pets or even people, which may then be transmitted to wild populations. Nobody thought of this 40 or more years ago. Raising healthy, non-habituated moose calves is expensive. It just didn't seem worth the risk.

Olson was undeterred by the skepticism of the state's moose experts. He claims, "Anchorage is home to well over 1,000 moose that sees an annual recruitment rate of around 25% new moose to the population. So this means that 250 new moose calves join the existing herd that is already trying to live amongst our ever expanding city."

Like a pushy salesman, Olson's patter employs undefined terms and fuzzy math. When he says "Anchorage," he appears to be talking about the developed portion of the city. But Fish and Game biologists estimate only 200 to 300 moose live in the Anchorage Bowl in summer, when calves are born.

Olson doesn't define what he means by "recruitment rate" either. Is this the number of calves still alive after the fall hunting season, the only time moose are counted in the Anchorage area? Or is it the number of yearlings in May who have survived their first winter and are on the threshold of adulthood, a more accurate, albeit unknown, measure of recruitment? Local moose numbers have declined in recent years, so let's say 200 moose will populate Anchorage neighborhoods this spring when calving season begins. About half of those will be bulls or yearling cows who aren't going to have calves. A hundred cow moose are not going to produce 250 calves. But let's say they all give birth to twins. That would be 200 calves. Unfortunately, as many as half those calves will die from birth defects, accidents, predators, disease, vehicle collisions, and winter starvation before they become yearlings.