Thanks for all the kind remarks folks. Nice to hear from all the guys who helped us get this done.
My moose hunt was actually a month long event even though I shot him at 10:30 a.m. on the first day of moose season. While it might seem like we wrapped it up quickly, it was, in reality, a long hunt. The shooting was the culmination of many days of hunting prior to the season opener, so it didn't feel like a short hunt, especially to muley73, who wore out his foot pads in my behalf.
We figured we had a good plan in place Friday when we turned in for the night but it started to rain some time around midnight and stayed with it most of the night. The sun rise was hidden behind thick cloud cover and we had light rain. Hauling horses down the Danish Dugway was out of the question, so we headed south. We glassed the locations we'd seen moose previously. Two cows a calf moose and a couple spike bull elk were all we could find. We checked all the ponds (like anything would have come to water, not) and paused to check all the canyons and clearings. All empty. Turned back and pulled up an a high vantage point, where we intended to spend the rest of the morning glassing a 300 degree horizon. Before we got the scopes set up muley73 had a bull located a long , long way out. Actually it was nearly back at our camp. It took me 5 minutes of watching the quakie grove before I could finally pick it out in the spotting scope. How muley73 saw it with 10 power binos is a mystery to me.
We moved locations then walked about 800 yard to where we'd last seen the bull feeding. It was gone. Brush and grass was 3 feet tall, thick and full of water. We were saturated 60 seconds into the stock. Before we got to where we figured the bull was it was raining briskly again. Thankful it was still in the 50's and no wind so it was uncomfortable but tolerable.
We spread out and started to glass the area again. A cow moose came straight to us from over a mile way. She came to within 500 yards and stopped halfway down into a draw we were pretty sure the bull had fed into. muley75 and one grandson positioned themselves to watch and signal us while another son and grandson moved forward with me, closer to the last known location of the bull. My two wrangler friends made a wide circle out and around the cow moose.
muley73 left his son with me and dropped straight off into the canyon between us and the cow.
Up to now we'd been dealing with light to moderate rain and intermittent claps of thunder (nothing close). Then it started to hail and it was becoming a bit annoying. Being wet clear through to your moles is bad enough, getting whacked in the ears with hail stones a little more that I was willing to put up with so we found a big juniper and backed into it far enough to get a little cover. No sooner had we backed i to the tree (and wiped my rifle scope lens clean, for the 15th time), than Bull Winkle made an appearance. He's standing at the head of the canyon, butt toward me, looking back from where he'd just come, toward muley73. I estimated him at between 150 and 200 yards. I couldn't tell if he was the same bull we'd seen through the spotting scope or not. In reality he didn't look as big but I really couldn't see his head very clearly through my watery scope and the angle of his body. I've ad 20 things going through my mind all at once. "Is he the same bull, is he mature, well he turn enough so I can get a shot into his lungs, I've got no way to get a solid rest to shot from, the brush is too high to use the shooting sticks, can I hit him in the back of what little I can see of his neck, will it blow off an antler, it will definitely ruin the cape, oh 5hit there he goes".
My grandson, whom I tapped on the shoulder when I first spotted the bull had been totally mute up until this moment. He then decides he needs to say something to make sure I'm fully aware of the changing conditions, and he say's with a fair degree of indignity and authority in his voice. "Well, if your going to shot, you better shot he'm now."
I think to myself, "well, he's got that part about figured right" and I pull down on the bull, who is not trotting into quakies but is rather charging into them.
Now then, after 50 years of chasing critters, this is not my first trip to he rodeo, I've missed ever getting a shot off at critters running through trees before. See, for those of you who've not yet had the experience, you only have a limited field of vision when you looking through a scope cranked up to 6 power, and as you swing along with the critter you can't see the breaks in the trees coming or no, where you can get a shot through into the animal. So your swinging along hoping for a large enough opening to come into your field of vision so you can move your cross hair out ahead of the animal and squeeze off a round. What invariable happens is, the trees eventually get thick and you never get a shot off. Then when the critter is gone your standing there feeling stupid, asking yourself, "what the hell just happened".
So I'm moving way ahead of he and I find a fair sized opening and I'm ready and he blows into it going hell bent for leather and because I know I have to snap it quick I get on him and turn one loose but I can see in the scope, just as I turn it loose, that in spite of my effort, the shot is to far back of his shoulder but I hear the bullet hit so know I've hit him. I run another round in and find another opening in the trees, it's about half the size of the first one. He hits the opening and I shot again. I hear it hit again, this time I know the shot is back even farther than the first but the bull disappears so I don't know if he's down or standing in the thick trees. I do know he has not come out of the other side of the trees.
No sooner had I pull the trigger and the sky literally dumped buckets on us. Didn't matter, because you can only get so wet, then it's just water on top of water. Doesn't even make your clothes any heavier after they reached a point of total saturation, and they already were.
My grandson and I stood out in the down pour for thirty minutes and let everyone catch up, then I get to a vantage point and we move into the trees. We no sooner get to the edge of the trees and we find him piled up in the bushes. We approach him cautiously and to my joy and and relief, he had bled out and was finished.
We had a good old fashioned celebration. All dignified and proper, of course. Then it was photo time after which the work started. Naturally my work was complete so I take a comfortable and soggy seat and watch my son's get after it, offering words of encouragement mixed with caution, threats and instructions from my position of seniority. Funny thing though, I think they all need hearing tests, they just went on about their business without doing a damn thing I told them to do.
Once they had it caped and quartered we swam (walked) back to the vehicles and drove to camp. Had a few ham sandwiches, tried to dry out and around three in the afternoon the clouds lifted and the sun actually made an appearance. We saddled the horse and headed back in for our bull.
With one exception, when one of the pack horses took offense to muley73 laying a hide quarter, half in, half out, of a pannier where upon the horse attempted to up-root a 6 inch quakie then butt knocked one of the my wrangler buddies rolling through the flora and fauna, we had a pleasant ride back to camp, with enough day light left to get things put up before dark.
The next morning (Sunday) we trailered the horse off the mountain in 8 inches of greasy, slimy mud, in and out of the ditch three times, all down hill so gravity and a diesel engine plowed on down to the asphalt and on home. muley75 busted his tranfer-case open on a rock I'd rolled up earlier in the middle of the road earlier in the day when I can into camp. Nothing 500 bucks and a week in the shop can't take care off, so nothing to worry about there.
The wranglers blew a rear tire on the pick-up just past the Mona exit on their way home. Another 160 bucks but what the hell, that tender loin was outstanding and if I ever recover financially, we're going to Alaska to kill a grizzly.
Stay tuned.
And yes, the bull was still in full velvet but not much was left of it by the time we got it home. It was ready to strip so we just went ahead and remove it. I haven't decide if I'll have it mounted or just do a Euro. I'll let the taxidermy side of the family make that decision.
Dc
Here a few more pictures.
Bull, across from camp.
Bull on Danish Dugway
How can you repay friends like these two?
Headed to camp.
One more of my heros
