I’ve been applying for the mythically rare Colorado
moose license for 8 years. The chance of getting such a coveted prize was 1 in
22,000. To me, it was just a chance for the Colorado Division of Wildlife to
borrow my $250 for a few months as a short-term loan before returning it to me,
minus processing fees, telling me that I was unsuccessful and better luck next
year.
Much to my surprise, I opened the letter from the DOW with an antlerless moose tag enclosed, letting me know that I was successful in drawing the Silver Spur Ranching for Wildlife antlerless moose tag. I chose to apply for antlerless because most hunters want the big bull trophy with antlers. I was more interested in the meat, and, the hunting experience.
A requirement for the hunt was to attend the moose seminar, so, per our agreement, Kaoru and I attended one day in late August. Kaoru had been applying for a moose license for as long as I had, and, we agreed to hunt together regardless of who drew the first tag. A lot of the people in the classroom at the Denver Merchandise Mart had been applying for 20-30 years. Old men with gray hair dotted the landscape when we walked in; a look in their eyes like kids on Christmas morning. Excited chatter filled the room as they exchanged names and numbers and wishing each other good luck. Kaoru and I sat down, and soon enough a woman (the only woman attending) sat down in the chair one over from me. It was my assumption that she sat near me because she only saw us from the back, and, thought that with my long hair she was going to be sitting next to someone of the same gender. She was a little surprised when she sat down, looked over, and two dudes welcomed her with a “good morning.”
Moose hunting techniques, behavior, processing, and, what was required of each hunter was all part of the seminar. The DOW wanted kidneys, a section of liver, a tooth, and a chunk of brain from each moose harvested. Also, hunt data, such as how many moose we saw, what gender, location, etc., was expected to be recorded. The day wrapped up and we were off to wait for the magical first day of the hunt.
The previous year, my ex-wife and I divorced. A lot of my hunting stuff was disorganized and in disarray because of the shuffling, moving out of my house, moving back in, having my rifles in different locations, etc. Additionally, I had met a lovely woman, Deanna, in the middle of my divorce, and we had started dating. With a lot of detail that I don’t wish to discuss in my blog about the divorce proceedings, I was able to move back into my house, and, I invited Deanna and her two boys to move in with me. Both of her sons, along with Deanna, had taken the Hunter’s Safety course and passed with flying colors. Additionally, I asked Deanna to be my wife, and, she said she would. We planned the wedding for October 5th. My moose hunt started the weekend of September 21. Leading up to my once-in-a-lifetime hunt was more wedding planning than moose-hunt planning, but I was able to pull most of my stuff together. What helped was that the weekend prior, one of Deanna’s sons had drawn a muzzleloading elk hunt tag, which forced me to gather my stuff together a week early. Two items were missing: my range finder and my binoculars. I searched high and low, but to my chagrin, both remained lost.
Friday morning before the hunt, I loaded all the camping equipment in my F150, picked up Kaoru, went and bought food for our week-long hunt, and headed up to North Park Colorado, to the town of Walden. I hadn’t sighted in my rifle for 2013 hunting season, and we found a range near Walden that went out to 500 yards: perfect for my 7MM RUM Sendero with Huskemaw scope, shooting 180-Grain Berger bullets. My last shot at 500 yards was one inch low, one inch right, from the bull. Good enough for me.
We had to check in with the hunt coordinator at the Silver Spur Ranch, and he showed me and a bull-moose hunter (Brent, and his buddy Ron) a 7-mile section of the North Platte where they had seen some moose. We agreed that the next morning, Kaoru and I would start hunting the north end, he and Ron would start in the south. The two other moose hunters would be hunting along the Canadian River system east of Walden.
Setting up camp in the dark at the Lake John State Wildlife Area, by the headlight of my truck (I discovered then that one of my bulbs was burned out), it was 9 PM before the tent was up. I fired up the propane stove and double-cheese-burgers were soon consumed before we turned off the propane lanterns with the alarm set for 5:20.
Much to my surprise, I opened the letter from the DOW with an antlerless moose tag enclosed, letting me know that I was successful in drawing the Silver Spur Ranching for Wildlife antlerless moose tag. I chose to apply for antlerless because most hunters want the big bull trophy with antlers. I was more interested in the meat, and, the hunting experience.
A requirement for the hunt was to attend the moose seminar, so, per our agreement, Kaoru and I attended one day in late August. Kaoru had been applying for a moose license for as long as I had, and, we agreed to hunt together regardless of who drew the first tag. A lot of the people in the classroom at the Denver Merchandise Mart had been applying for 20-30 years. Old men with gray hair dotted the landscape when we walked in; a look in their eyes like kids on Christmas morning. Excited chatter filled the room as they exchanged names and numbers and wishing each other good luck. Kaoru and I sat down, and soon enough a woman (the only woman attending) sat down in the chair one over from me. It was my assumption that she sat near me because she only saw us from the back, and, thought that with my long hair she was going to be sitting next to someone of the same gender. She was a little surprised when she sat down, looked over, and two dudes welcomed her with a “good morning.”
Moose hunting techniques, behavior, processing, and, what was required of each hunter was all part of the seminar. The DOW wanted kidneys, a section of liver, a tooth, and a chunk of brain from each moose harvested. Also, hunt data, such as how many moose we saw, what gender, location, etc., was expected to be recorded. The day wrapped up and we were off to wait for the magical first day of the hunt.
The previous year, my ex-wife and I divorced. A lot of my hunting stuff was disorganized and in disarray because of the shuffling, moving out of my house, moving back in, having my rifles in different locations, etc. Additionally, I had met a lovely woman, Deanna, in the middle of my divorce, and we had started dating. With a lot of detail that I don’t wish to discuss in my blog about the divorce proceedings, I was able to move back into my house, and, I invited Deanna and her two boys to move in with me. Both of her sons, along with Deanna, had taken the Hunter’s Safety course and passed with flying colors. Additionally, I asked Deanna to be my wife, and, she said she would. We planned the wedding for October 5th. My moose hunt started the weekend of September 21. Leading up to my once-in-a-lifetime hunt was more wedding planning than moose-hunt planning, but I was able to pull most of my stuff together. What helped was that the weekend prior, one of Deanna’s sons had drawn a muzzleloading elk hunt tag, which forced me to gather my stuff together a week early. Two items were missing: my range finder and my binoculars. I searched high and low, but to my chagrin, both remained lost.
Friday morning before the hunt, I loaded all the camping equipment in my F150, picked up Kaoru, went and bought food for our week-long hunt, and headed up to North Park Colorado, to the town of Walden. I hadn’t sighted in my rifle for 2013 hunting season, and we found a range near Walden that went out to 500 yards: perfect for my 7MM RUM Sendero with Huskemaw scope, shooting 180-Grain Berger bullets. My last shot at 500 yards was one inch low, one inch right, from the bull. Good enough for me.
We had to check in with the hunt coordinator at the Silver Spur Ranch, and he showed me and a bull-moose hunter (Brent, and his buddy Ron) a 7-mile section of the North Platte where they had seen some moose. We agreed that the next morning, Kaoru and I would start hunting the north end, he and Ron would start in the south. The two other moose hunters would be hunting along the Canadian River system east of Walden.
Setting up camp in the dark at the Lake John State Wildlife Area, by the headlight of my truck (I discovered then that one of my bulbs was burned out), it was 9 PM before the tent was up. I fired up the propane stove and double-cheese-burgers were soon consumed before we turned off the propane lanterns with the alarm set for 5:20.
The moon over Lake John SWA
Kaoru, finishing camp setup
Your's truly, grilling burgers
Dark and cold, early, and we had forgotten coffee on our
shopping trip, we struggled out of camp. I was munching strawberry peanut
butter fiber bars (7 grams of fiber each – the last thing I wanted was to be
constipated while hunting), and we headed towards the north end of the
property. We dropped off the trailer, packed with 4 150-quart coolers, at a
ranch house, and meandered through their twisty-turny property to get on the
main road heading south. The last area was a frozen-mud pasture full of horses,
lining up at the double-gate on the far side, wanting to get through to the
greener grass on the other side. Kaoru opened the gate, I drove through, and
one of the horses snuck past before Kaoru could close the gate. Horsey stopped
on the opposite side and started munching grass. Kaoru and I discussed our
options. I called our hunt guide and left a message telling him that a horse
was out, I wasn’t a horse wrangler, and, asked if he could tell the rancher
there to go get his horse. I had moose to hunt, and didn’t have time to mess
around with an errant horse. I figured that if they didn’t want horses to get
out, they could have put them in a different pasture.
Down the muddy and bumpy road we went, stopping at every available area to glass over the river bottom glassing for big dark 4-legged beasts wandering in and out of the willows. Eventually we happened upon the other hunters, who were set up with a spotting scope. They said they had seen a group of moose down on the opposite side of the river, including at least one bull and several cows. Brent wasn’t interested in going after the moose opening morning – they had several days to hunt and wanted to take their time. So they welcomed us to go after the moose, and they would watch the hunt from their spotting scope. That sounded good to me!
Over the river and through the willows to the herd of moose we go, we have found a way to the moose we shall slay, across the green fields we go, hey! We stopped just short of the field where the moose were hiding. We didn’t actually see the moose through the spotting scope – they were all in the willows when we stopped and talked with Brent. Kaoru and I gathered all of our hunting gear and we began to creep our way towards the likely area where they were hopefully hanging out.
Thrashing willows and low grunts stopped us in our tracks. Kneeling and getting as low as we could, a large bull moose appeared on the opposite side of an open field. Stopping and thrashing the willow branches with his antlers, we heard another bull moose approximately 200 yards down the river bottom, doing exactly the same thing. The rut was in full force, and these bulls were vying for the lovely lady moose to create future generations of mooselings. I was vying for a lovely lady moose as well, but the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself and be seen as competition for the ginormous beast that had no clue we were in his immanent domain. Mr. Bullwinkle continued down the treeline and disappeared into the willows again. We waited for the other moose to show themselves, but, none ambled into view, so we continued towards the area where the bull emerged.
Two dark shapes appeared in the opening where the bull had
come through, and we quickly knelt again. Two young moose walked through. The
cow first, then the young bull. I put my rifle up to my shoulder and put
the cross-hairs on the center of her chest. Nope, not this one. I was holding
out for a larger moose. She turned around and walked back through the opening.
The young bull took this opportunity to try and mount her, but failed
miserably. Another large black shape passed behind the opening in the willows.
It was the big cow. But she was too quick, and hearing splashing water,
we assumed she had crossed the river. Sure enough, Kaoru and I ventured
to where she had been and noticed the low-water area where she crossed. Unfortunately, our waders
were in the truck, so we continued to hunt the area heading towards the truck. Down the muddy and bumpy road we went, stopping at every available area to glass over the river bottom glassing for big dark 4-legged beasts wandering in and out of the willows. Eventually we happened upon the other hunters, who were set up with a spotting scope. They said they had seen a group of moose down on the opposite side of the river, including at least one bull and several cows. Brent wasn’t interested in going after the moose opening morning – they had several days to hunt and wanted to take their time. So they welcomed us to go after the moose, and they would watch the hunt from their spotting scope. That sounded good to me!
Over the river and through the willows to the herd of moose we go, we have found a way to the moose we shall slay, across the green fields we go, hey! We stopped just short of the field where the moose were hiding. We didn’t actually see the moose through the spotting scope – they were all in the willows when we stopped and talked with Brent. Kaoru and I gathered all of our hunting gear and we began to creep our way towards the likely area where they were hopefully hanging out.
Thrashing willows and low grunts stopped us in our tracks. Kneeling and getting as low as we could, a large bull moose appeared on the opposite side of an open field. Stopping and thrashing the willow branches with his antlers, we heard another bull moose approximately 200 yards down the river bottom, doing exactly the same thing. The rut was in full force, and these bulls were vying for the lovely lady moose to create future generations of mooselings. I was vying for a lovely lady moose as well, but the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself and be seen as competition for the ginormous beast that had no clue we were in his immanent domain. Mr. Bullwinkle continued down the treeline and disappeared into the willows again. We waited for the other moose to show themselves, but, none ambled into view, so we continued towards the area where the bull emerged.
Arriving at the F150, we decided that the moose were heading south, so, why not go to the south end of the property and cut them off? Our waders on, we drove to the far end, where the road became lost in a flood plain. I stopped just short of the marsh and we continued on foot to the fence line. Over the barbed wire (not easy in wet slippery waders), we headed east through the thick willows to where the river crossed the southern boundary, sneaking as stealthily as possible the entire time (a difficult task in noisy waders). Upon reaching the river, the water was dark, the river was narrow, and starting the venture across, the muddy wetness quickly rose to the top of my chest-waders. It was time to slowly turn around and attempt to find a different path across the aqueous channel. Downstream our luck changed; the river was wide, the water less deep, and we were able to continue the hunt in our regularly-scheduled fashion.
Walking east from the other side of the river, a bull, two
cows, and two calves ran from the opposite side of the fence onto the hunting
property. They were running at a full clip, crossing the fence with ease, about
400 yards away. Much too far for a running shot, and they were
quickly on the other side of a bank of willows, continuing to head north. We
headed east, and an opening in the willows allowed Kaoru and I to venture to a
larger viewing area. There was no way we could pursue the moose at their speed,
so the hope was that the moose would slow down and begin grazing, or perhaps
work their way back south. Moose tracks indicated that the herd had come
through, so we waited in the shade for their return.
Opposite us on the other side of the field, a large black
shape with paddled antlers emerged. It was a bull moose, not the one we saw
earlier, but a second, slightly larger moose, and it reared its moosy head. He
looked left, then right, then left again, until he locked his gaze with us.
Transfixed in his stare, a moment of trepidation, he charged. 200 yards,
running at full speed towards us; “Fuck this dude, I’m outta here,” Kaoru
exclaimed, jumping to his feet and taking off. I was still watching the moose,
like an animal in the road watching the headlights of an oncoming car. Kaoru
running between the moose and I broke my gaze and I followed him through the muddy
gap in the willows, running as fast as my legs would take me. Time slowed and I
glanced around quickly, looking for anything that would be a big enough barrier
between the moose and I, but the willows were lacking in girth and height. I
ran to the willow edge and knelt. I figured if all else failed, I had a rifle,
and although I didn’t have a bull license, I would have to explain to the DOW
officers that it was either me or the moose… or Kaoru, who only had a knife. I
figured I had a 50/50 chance of not getting injured in a moose attack, but
Kaoru… well, he has a black belt in judo, but tossing a 2000 pound charging
moose might be above his skill level.
Thankfully, the moose changed course, and emerged from the
willows about 100 yards from where we were. Still shaken from the experience,
it was an afterthought to grab my iPhone and get a picture of the beast. By
that time, he was on the far edge of the field, going into the willows. I was
able to snap a few pictures, but it didn’t quite capture the moment. However, I found out that Brent shot that moose the following Tuesday.
The moose that charged us. You can barely see the antler by the edge of the clearing.
The same moose that charged us: Brent ended up shooting it.
After the excitement of the situation wore off, Kaoru and I
agreed that the moose we were after had probably bedded down, and we didn’t
want to push them… we could come back for the evening hunt. It was 10:00 AM,
the sun warming the area, and moose tend to bed down in the heat of the day.
Additionally, when there is a full moon (like there was the night before), the
moose move at night, and bed down early. It was best to head back to the truck.
Headed west, Kaoru discovered that crossing the barbed-wire fence had ripped a hole in his waders, thus we needed to find another lower, wide spot in the river to cross. The lowering adrenaline and the heat caused by walking in the rubber and coated nylon waders were wearing on us both. The sun beating down on our sweating heads made the river crossing that much more palatable, and we found a spot to cross back, keeping the water line below the tear in Kaoru’s waders.
Turning the truck around, driving back the way we came, we happened across Brent and Ron, who tracked the herd to a large cottonwood tree in the middle of the property. As we were telling them about our adventure, they received a call from the hunt guide, telling them that they were on private property. The guide had told us the wrong fence line for the boundary; the property we were on belonged to the neighbor to the south. What did that mean for us? That the herd of moose we were tracking had bedded down on private land. (!)
The ranch hand, a fellow named Valentio, came along in his truck and explained further, in a thick Hispanic accent, that unfortunately the area where we were was off-limits. He then explained where the boundary was, and to make our way off of the land the ranch didn’t own. I explained that the moose we were after were bedded down right by the cottonwood tree. You could see in his eyes that his hands were figuratively tied. He shrugged and let us know that the landowner was kind of strange, liked his privacy, and in order to keep good relations, it was best if we weren’t on his property. *sigh*
Back to Walden, we stopped at a Tire and Auto Parts store to purchase a tire-repair kit for Kaoru’s waders, and, a new headlight for the truck. With my handy-dandy Gerber multi-tool in hand, Karou pulled out my headlight and replaced the bulb. His Honda needs a new bulb about every two months, so he’s extremely well versed in dismantling the front assembly. I reassembled it as he went to work on his waders on my tailgate.
The wind must have been blowing about 50 miles per hour: my eyes were drying out and my sunglasses didn’t block much. Kaoru was struggling with the messy tire patch kit, so I assisted as best I could. Finally he got the patch in place, with plenty of rubber cement, and I put my tire-chain bag over the top of the patch so that it would seal flat. The bar and grill in town provided relief from the sun and wind, and, a tasty bite of food before we headed back to camp.
Headed west, Kaoru discovered that crossing the barbed-wire fence had ripped a hole in his waders, thus we needed to find another lower, wide spot in the river to cross. The lowering adrenaline and the heat caused by walking in the rubber and coated nylon waders were wearing on us both. The sun beating down on our sweating heads made the river crossing that much more palatable, and we found a spot to cross back, keeping the water line below the tear in Kaoru’s waders.
Turning the truck around, driving back the way we came, we happened across Brent and Ron, who tracked the herd to a large cottonwood tree in the middle of the property. As we were telling them about our adventure, they received a call from the hunt guide, telling them that they were on private property. The guide had told us the wrong fence line for the boundary; the property we were on belonged to the neighbor to the south. What did that mean for us? That the herd of moose we were tracking had bedded down on private land. (!)
The ranch hand, a fellow named Valentio, came along in his truck and explained further, in a thick Hispanic accent, that unfortunately the area where we were was off-limits. He then explained where the boundary was, and to make our way off of the land the ranch didn’t own. I explained that the moose we were after were bedded down right by the cottonwood tree. You could see in his eyes that his hands were figuratively tied. He shrugged and let us know that the landowner was kind of strange, liked his privacy, and in order to keep good relations, it was best if we weren’t on his property. *sigh*
Back to Walden, we stopped at a Tire and Auto Parts store to purchase a tire-repair kit for Kaoru’s waders, and, a new headlight for the truck. With my handy-dandy Gerber multi-tool in hand, Karou pulled out my headlight and replaced the bulb. His Honda needs a new bulb about every two months, so he’s extremely well versed in dismantling the front assembly. I reassembled it as he went to work on his waders on my tailgate.
The wind must have been blowing about 50 miles per hour: my eyes were drying out and my sunglasses didn’t block much. Kaoru was struggling with the messy tire patch kit, so I assisted as best I could. Finally he got the patch in place, with plenty of rubber cement, and I put my tire-chain bag over the top of the patch so that it would seal flat. The bar and grill in town provided relief from the sun and wind, and, a tasty bite of food before we headed back to camp.
Our Camp Site
Back at camp, Kaoru plotted the boundaries of the hunt area
on my forest-service map, using his Garmin 530 HCx. We were indeed hunting in the area outlined to us by
the ranch when they sent us their maps. When we went back out for the evening
hunt, after picking up the trailer from the north end, I called our hunt guide
to confirm. Sure enough, he told us the maps we were sent were incorrect. With
that in mind, we drove passed Vantio’s house and stopped to ask him again what
the boundaries were. Valentino offered to drive Kaoru down and show him the
boundaries of the property to the south while I unhooked the trailer. He came
back with new knowledge, and from there, we went a-lookin’ for moose.
I tried to have a good attitude, but was pissed that we couldn’t go where we wanted. That we were gypped. That we made all that effort that AM only to be stymied in our evening hunt. That we wasted all that time only to be told that our efforts were in vain – that we could have been injured or killed by a charging bull moose and couldn’t even go seek retribution. Not that we would have actually sought retribution against the bull moose for protecting its territory against two hapless humans, but that we only wanted an opportunity to seek out what we had discovered in our morning hunt and be successful. Alas, with knowledge comes responsibility, and we knew now where the boundaries were, and as ethical hunters, we would not cross the boundary again. Yes, there was another 6 miles of river-bottom to hunt, but there had been no reports of moose on the north side.
The best way to hunt moose in that area was to find a high
point and scan the area, and then plan the hunt. It’s called “spot-and-stalk”
hunting. But all the high points along the way resulted in zero results. It
doesn’t mean there were no moose in the area; only that we didn’t see any. It didn't help that I was using a junky pair of 7x35 binoculars. We
crossed the river again and searched downriver (the river flowed north) for any
moose sign while the sun sunk lower and lower on the horizon. It was the end of
the day. No moose. I made my way back towards the bridge, heading back to camp,
dejected and still pissed off that we didn’t see any moose. I tried to have a good attitude, but was pissed that we couldn’t go where we wanted. That we were gypped. That we made all that effort that AM only to be stymied in our evening hunt. That we wasted all that time only to be told that our efforts were in vain – that we could have been injured or killed by a charging bull moose and couldn’t even go seek retribution. Not that we would have actually sought retribution against the bull moose for protecting its territory against two hapless humans, but that we only wanted an opportunity to seek out what we had discovered in our morning hunt and be successful. Alas, with knowledge comes responsibility, and we knew now where the boundaries were, and as ethical hunters, we would not cross the boundary again. Yes, there was another 6 miles of river-bottom to hunt, but there had been no reports of moose on the north side.
Moose! I slowed the truck down and stopped by an opening in
the willows on the west side of the river before the bridge. The first big bull
from this morning was standing about 150 yards away, next to a clump of
willows.
I snapped a quick picture, snuck 50 feet from the center line of the dirt road, and steadied my rifle on my knee. Where there was a bull, there might be cows. I watched the area, and sure enough, I saw the cow moose skirting in and out of the willows. Sweet! The cow would disappear, reappear somewhere else, disappear again, etc. Finally I saw an opening in the willows where I saw a head appear. No antlers! Then the head disappeared and the body moved behind it. A perfect view of the lungs right behind the shoulder.
I snapped a quick picture, snuck 50 feet from the center line of the dirt road, and steadied my rifle on my knee. Where there was a bull, there might be cows. I watched the area, and sure enough, I saw the cow moose skirting in and out of the willows. Sweet! The cow would disappear, reappear somewhere else, disappear again, etc. Finally I saw an opening in the willows where I saw a head appear. No antlers! Then the head disappeared and the body moved behind it. A perfect view of the lungs right behind the shoulder.
BANG!
The moose moved forward and out of sight.
I went back to the truck. An excited Kaoru asked, “Did you get it?”
“I think so!” I put my rifle down and grabbed my pack, getting ready to go find my moose.
“Dude – that bull is still there.” I grabbed my binoculars and viewed the area. The big bull was staring right at us. There was no way I was going to approach the area with the bull still giving us the evil eye. I learned my lesson from the morning hunt. Kaoru honked the truck horn. He just looked at us. Nothing scares a moose. I thought then would be a perfect time to go find Valentio and ask for assistance. We drove up the road a short way and found him, with his brother, wife, sister-in-law, their kids, all standing around. They asked if that was me that shot. I told him that I believed I had a moose down, but that there was a big bull in the way of making sure, and that I needed some assistance. He said sure, and asked if his family could come see as well. I told him the more the merrier. Plus it would be more people to charge at should the moose decide to retaliate.
Driving back to the area, we slowed and came to a stop. I pointed out the area where I believed my moose was, referencing the bull that was still standing there. He mentioned that we could drive right up to it, and he led the way down the road, turning south, down 150 yards, then cut into an opening in the willows. He stopped his truck and got out. The bull must have decided to go down-country, as, the presence of all the vehicles entering his territory was too much to take on. Kaoru hopped out and ran up to where the guys were standing, looking at something on the ground, and then looking back at me. I grabbed my rifle from the back seat and started walking towards them. The way they were looking at me, I was thinking, “What? What is it? What are they not telling me? What did I do?” When I approached and looked down, I saw what their eyes betrayed.
I’ve shot elk bigger than the moose that was lying on the
ground. I went back to the truck. An excited Kaoru asked, “Did you get it?”
“I think so!” I put my rifle down and grabbed my pack, getting ready to go find my moose.
“Dude – that bull is still there.” I grabbed my binoculars and viewed the area. The big bull was staring right at us. There was no way I was going to approach the area with the bull still giving us the evil eye. I learned my lesson from the morning hunt. Kaoru honked the truck horn. He just looked at us. Nothing scares a moose. I thought then would be a perfect time to go find Valentio and ask for assistance. We drove up the road a short way and found him, with his brother, wife, sister-in-law, their kids, all standing around. They asked if that was me that shot. I told him that I believed I had a moose down, but that there was a big bull in the way of making sure, and that I needed some assistance. He said sure, and asked if his family could come see as well. I told him the more the merrier. Plus it would be more people to charge at should the moose decide to retaliate.
Driving back to the area, we slowed and came to a stop. I pointed out the area where I believed my moose was, referencing the bull that was still standing there. He mentioned that we could drive right up to it, and he led the way down the road, turning south, down 150 yards, then cut into an opening in the willows. He stopped his truck and got out. The bull must have decided to go down-country, as, the presence of all the vehicles entering his territory was too much to take on. Kaoru hopped out and ran up to where the guys were standing, looking at something on the ground, and then looking back at me. I grabbed my rifle from the back seat and started walking towards them. The way they were looking at me, I was thinking, “What? What is it? What are they not telling me? What did I do?” When I approached and looked down, I saw what their eyes betrayed.
I was in shock. I knew I had shot an antlerless moose when I
squeezed the trigger. But I was expecting a larger animal. The sheer lack of
size made me speechless. I walked over to it. Kaoru said, “Be careful dude – it
could be still alive.” I looked down at the gaping hole in the side, right
behind the shoulder, and thought it was doubtful. I poked its eye with my barrel.
No reaction. Valentio said, “It’s legal, right?” I nodded yes. “Okay, then.
Congratulations!” His family started taking pictures. Brent and Ron showed up
as well. Everyone was coming to take a look at the little moose I shot. My
once-in-a-lifetime moose.
It is still a trophy.
Any animal whose life I take, to feed me and my family, is a
trophy. To me, trophy is not measured in horns, or antlers, or size. It's about the hunt. It's about being with friends and family having a shared experience out in nature. It is
simply the fact that I appreciate every bit of every animal that presents
itself to me, that I may eat it knowing that it is not force-fed on a feedlot,
and killed in a slaughterhouse. It lived its entire life in the wild. It died
in its element. I honor that. Kaoru knelt down and said a prayer over the
moose. I also said one, but I was going to do my tobacco ceremony in private,
back at the camp.
They helped me load up the moose into the back of the truck, and we drove into town. I called Deanna to tell her the good news, and, called my dad to let him know that he didn’t need to drive up and help pack out the animal. We originally planned that had I gotten a larger moose, and needed assistance, he would drive up and help. We bought ice and headed back to camp. I dragged the moose out of the back of the truck, and, once on the ground, I pulled out my bag of American Spirit tobacco. As I rubbed the tobacco on its fuzzy head, sprinkling tobacco on the eyes, I said a prayer thanking the animal for its life, the food it provides, the sustenance that it gives, the beauty of its hide that I will preserve, and that the animal moves on to green pastures and has many happy returns here to the earthly plane.
Quartering the moose, and removing the back loins and tender loins, took about 2 hours. We then we removed both kidneys and a piece of liver for the DOW. I then reached up inside the lung cavity and removed the heart. With the coyotes yipping and yowling in the distance, I knew the carcass wasn’t going to be around long. We set the quarters on the plastic bags, on top of the tarp, on top of the trailer, to cool in the night air. I folded the hide onto itself so that it wouldn’t dry out, after it had relinquished all body heat, and put it in a plastic bag. I did the same with the head, and, finished by tagging the hind quarter that had the identification of sex. It was 11:30 – time to eat some dinner and go to bed.
The sun shining bright, but still cool, we cooked a victory breakfast and packed up camp. After dropping off the head, etc., with the DOW in Walden, we drove home through forests of changing aspen leaves. The boys helped me carry the moose coolers onto the back porch Sunday evening, and, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I butchered my moose into steaks, roasts, and ground. All I need to do now is wait for the chronic wasting disease (CWD) results to come back, and I can then feast on my once-in-a-lifetime moose.
They helped me load up the moose into the back of the truck, and we drove into town. I called Deanna to tell her the good news, and, called my dad to let him know that he didn’t need to drive up and help pack out the animal. We originally planned that had I gotten a larger moose, and needed assistance, he would drive up and help. We bought ice and headed back to camp. I dragged the moose out of the back of the truck, and, once on the ground, I pulled out my bag of American Spirit tobacco. As I rubbed the tobacco on its fuzzy head, sprinkling tobacco on the eyes, I said a prayer thanking the animal for its life, the food it provides, the sustenance that it gives, the beauty of its hide that I will preserve, and that the animal moves on to green pastures and has many happy returns here to the earthly plane.
Quartering the moose, and removing the back loins and tender loins, took about 2 hours. We then we removed both kidneys and a piece of liver for the DOW. I then reached up inside the lung cavity and removed the heart. With the coyotes yipping and yowling in the distance, I knew the carcass wasn’t going to be around long. We set the quarters on the plastic bags, on top of the tarp, on top of the trailer, to cool in the night air. I folded the hide onto itself so that it wouldn’t dry out, after it had relinquished all body heat, and put it in a plastic bag. I did the same with the head, and, finished by tagging the hind quarter that had the identification of sex. It was 11:30 – time to eat some dinner and go to bed.
The sun shining bright, but still cool, we cooked a victory breakfast and packed up camp. After dropping off the head, etc., with the DOW in Walden, we drove home through forests of changing aspen leaves. The boys helped me carry the moose coolers onto the back porch Sunday evening, and, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I butchered my moose into steaks, roasts, and ground. All I need to do now is wait for the chronic wasting disease (CWD) results to come back, and I can then feast on my once-in-a-lifetime moose.
My trophy.
