Are there moose in Idaho?

I've been worried about Sam, lately. I don't think he quite comprehends what "going to Idaho" and "I'll be gone two weeks" means. I've talked to him about it several times, even considered getting out the map to show him. This morning, as I was feeding horses, he jogged past me. "Sam," I said, "would you like me to bring you something back from Idaho?"

He pauses and looks at me, "A moose," he says.

This makes me stop to look at him in return. "Sam, do you even know what a moose is?"

He looks around, spots a rabbit and stares at it for a minute. He has a wonderful concept of the human language, but I have stumped him. He looks back at me then, over his left shoulder, and grins. "Two moose?" he asks.

All I can do is sigh and smile at him. "I will see what I can do," I respond.

His wide grin gets wider. Satisfied, he resumes his journey, eager to make sure no bunnies have strayed into the yard.