The One Moose Airplane

A cautionary tale in aircraft overloading and customer pressure. 


Not a true story, but it happens every day...


Once there was an Alaskan Bush Pilot who flew hunters in his floatplane on contract to remote locations.  He was hired by two hunters who he flew to a remote lake and agreed to return in three days to pick them up.  The pilot warned the hunters in no uncertain terms that he only had a ONE MOOSE AIRCRAFT, and no matter how many moose they bagged on their hunting trip, they could only load ONE MOOSE aboard the aircraft for the return trip.  


As scheduled, three days later, the bush pilot returned to the lake and was chagrined to find that the hunters had bagged TWO moose, and were adamant about wanting to take both of them on the airplane.  


The pilot explained that it was a one moose aircraft, and one moose was all it could carry.  


The hunters countered that both moose were field dressed, and kind of scrawny, and therefore added up to maybe 1.25 moose at best.  


The pilot didn't buy it, and launched into a long boring diatribe about aircraft weight and balance, Federal Aviation Regulations, risking his license and livelihood, etc. etc.  


The hunters mentioned that one of them knew a pilot once who had a completely different interpretation of federal law as it applied to moose carriage, and that the game wardens really didn't care anyway, so what was the big deal?  


Growing increasingly irritated as this stalemate was delaying his already packed charter schedule, the pilot stated that if they wanted to go out, they were going with one moose, and no more than one moose, end of discussion.  


The hunters began to openly speculate on the condition of the aircraft, the payment arrangement for the flight, the reasons that the pilot was still single, and moreover, stated that the previous year, on the same lake, with the same type aircraft, another pilot had flown out with two moose on their previous trip, and what exactly was his problem anyway?  


Gritting his teeth, the pilot agreed to carry the two moose, as the sun was beginning to go down and it was pointless to argue any longer.  As the moose were loaded, the floatplane nearly swamped its floats from the weight of the two moose.  


Configuring the floatplane for a maximum performance takeoff, the pilot water taxied to the far end of the lake and performed the best takeoff he could muster with all the power the airplane had.  Performance was weaker than expected and at the far end of the lake, he was forced to bank around trees as he squeezed every ounce of performance out of the floatplane that he could.  Engine straining and wings bending, it appeared that they might make it, but the two moose were too much.  The airplane settled into the trees, chopping off first the tops of trees, then small branches, then larger branches, then finally somersaulting into the undergrowth in an ugly wreck.  


It was a horrific scene.  Moose meat hung from low branches, the smell of jet fuel mixed with the smell of fresh cut pine and fresh cut aluminum.  Mercifully, the pilot and hunters were knocked unconscious but not killed.  


Half an hour later, one hunter, waking up from his stupor, yelled out to the other hunter "where are we?"


The second hunter, looking around to gain his bearings, said "I think we're about a hundred yards from where we ended up last year".