I’ll add a few. And also say that I’m with Walt and AKdoc about moose; it’s the cows that have chased me further and with more murderous intent.
The first two I’ll include because it was the same area in consecutive years, and it’s a mix of moose and bears.
A friend and I had flown into a remote lake in late September for moose.
We landed above treeline; very open country but for some spruce along a whitewater creek that passed as close as 3 miles away, small dense clusters of alder here and there, and some dwarf birch (a species of low shrub).
No sightings of moose in the open stuff, and we couldn’t tempt the bulls out of the spruce along the creek.
After a number of days we got some snow, and decided to hike to and drop down into the spruce, and follow any bull tracks we came across in the patchy, broken snow.
I was directly on a fresh bull track, intently following it, my friend maybe 15-20 yards to my left and a skosh behind; the very loud whitewater creek on my right filled my ears and covered all other sound.
After a bit, out of the corner of my eye I caught unusual movement from my friend.
! To my amazement two spring grizzly cubs were circling him, much like 2 big puppies might when you return home. They were so close they may have actually touched his clothing as time and again they closely circled him, rose on hind legs to look and sniff, then dropped down to continue circling.
Together we eventually were able to shoosh them off and put some distance between us and them, all the while wondering when the sow would show. We never saw her, just her tracks in the snow further on; she was small. The roar of the creek likely prevented her from hearing the commotion and saved us from a bigger rodeo.
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The following year a different friend and I flew into the same spot. I badly wanted a good moose and he was after caribou.
We separated early the first morning as my friend went after some caribou that he’d spotted.
I was getting brief glimpses of bulls here and there.
But the biggest by far was about 3 ½ miles away, and on the other side of the roaring, whitewater creek. Too far and especially to bring back across that creek. Of course he was the bull that wasn’t moving much.
Anyway, late in the morning moose sightings dropped off and I thought, well, I’ll just head towards that big bull and scope him and the hiking and the creek out.
As I got closer to the creek I gave up some elevation, and lost sight of the bull in the denser brush along it.
Once on the creek I thought, not gonna do this. Too big a bull too far from camp to early in the hunt. And to strap quarters on my back and cross many times?
Still, I thought about maybe rigging a line across to hang on to, or to use to get the meat across, but didn’t have nearly enough line that would be heavy enough.
And then, I saw the right antler of the monster bull sticking out of the brush on the other side before disappearing again.
I picked what I thought was the best spot to cross and stepped in ! It was late September in the mountains so the water was ice cold, a little higher than waist deep in much of it, and crazy fast. The creek has a hilariously appropriate name but don’t want to share it here.
Somewhere around the middle of the creek I lost my footing and was completely submerged until I got my legs under me about 20 yards downstream.
Disgusted with myself, I made it to and up the far bank, soaked stem to stern, pushed thru the tall willow and there was the bull !
He was standing maybe 20 yards away with his butt to me, thrashing a clump of alders. Nothing between us higher than your ankle. He turned and walked directly towards me, rocking a bit but not much. Must have stopped head-on 10 or 12 yards away.
I hunted with a rifle back then and I must have pulled my .270 up 3 or 4 times but man it made no sense to shoot this bull, especially on day one. Didn’t feel threatened by him much because frankly, I don’t think he felt threatened at all by me.
Eventually he walked off, I wrung my wool clothes out as best I could & emptied my pack boots. And laid in the bright sun for a bit to warm up; it felt absolutely glorious.
Managed to cross back over without incident, hiked back to the glassing spot, and killed a nice bull late that afternoon.
That was a bit long so I’ll stop, but maybe add another later.
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