Arcticmanak
Lil-Rokslider
Preseason scouting allowed us to locate what we thought would be a dynamite area for this fall's moose hunt. There was dynamite, but the fuse was much longer than we anticipated! I would be hunting with my adult sons and looking forward to spending time together on this hunt.
We hunted a river corridor for a total of 10 days and for the first 9 we didn't see or hear any bulls. It was getting frustrating to say the least. We were hunting at first light every day and out till dark, only taking a siesta around lunchtime for a bite to eat and possible nap. The first week we had rain and more rain. We hunted sloughs, openings, floated whisper quiet down stretches of the river calling with cow calls and bull grunts/raking periodically. No responses. None. Zippo. Zero. ...But somewhere a fuse was burning.
I whispered a hundred prayers, "Lord, please bless us with a moose. Send one to us or direct us to it." Our meat supply was dwindling at home and it was important for us to be successful.
I was reminded of a verse of Scripture in Proverbs 12:27. In fact, I read this verse just a couple days earlier in my compact New Testament with Psalms & Proverbs that I take into the field. "The slothful man roasteth not that which he took in hunting: but the substance of a diligent man is precious."
We needed to be that diligent man. Stick it out. Keep working hard. Don't get discouraged. Press on through adversities. Stay with the plan. Be diligent. Don't lose hope.
We only encountered a couple cows and one with a calf over many days. To my knowledge we didn't jump or spook any moose that ran off when they saw, smelled, or heard us. It seemed that they just weren't there. Was the rut late this year? Did the population crash? There were tracks and sign nearly everywhere we went. We didn't know anything else to do but to continue what we'd been doing. We didn't have a viable option nor the time required to relocate to another area. ...But the fuse was burning.
I reminded my son that everything could change in a matter of seconds and that we needed to be diligent and not get discouraged. As I spoke those words to him I was encouraging myself too! Unbeknownst to us the fuse kept burning.
We came back to camp just at last light on Thursday the 14th. One more day left to hunt in this any bull area. We were whooped. My back was aching. We were cold, hungry and wiped out. Would it be an 11th hour bull on the last day of season? I'd heard of those situations but never had experienced one myself.
I wanted to go sit by the fire and make something warm to eat and drink. It was nearly dark and pretty difficult to see. Instead of sitting in camp I walked to a nearby vantage point that afforded views 150 yds in several directions over the river and some openings nearby.
I made a few cow calls and listened to them echo off into the distance. Glassing the areas I thought to myself, "It's getting so dark I now can hardly make out anything inside the treeline. But I'll wait another couple minutes." ...And that fuse was burning down, down, down, lower and lower, shorter and shorter.
Suddenly the silence exploded as I heard branches breaking nearby! Big, thick spruce boughs breaking hard. CRRRRACKKKK! SNAP! CRASH!
I looked to my left and 135 yds away out from the treeline stepped a bull. All I had to see was antlers. Any bull would do! My rifle was slung on my right shoulder. I was standing in a thicket of rosehip sticker bushes and didn't have a rest or place to sit for a shot. I chambered a round in my Tikka 300wm, settled the crosshairs on the point of his right shoulder as he quartered to me and squeezed the trigger just as that dynamite fuse terminated with a BLAST that sent a Barnes 180 grain ttsx through the vitals on this year's meat supply for the family.
The bull made a dash into the river as my son came running and said, "He's still up and on his feet!" Do you want me to shoot him again?!" From my angle I could not see that he was still standing since some brush obscured my view. I said "Yes, shoot him again!" He drilled him right behind the ribs broadside with his Tikka 30-06 and put a 180 grain Federal Trophy Bonded Tip through the chest. Our bull then turned and dropped right on the bank at the water's edge. It was done. This year's hunt was done. We were exhausted but stopped right then and there to say, "THANK YOU LORD!!!" He certainly blessed our efforts. We high fived and hugged and said, "Did that just happen? Can you believe what just happened? Can you believe it?!!!"
To have hunted as many days as we did and not see or hear anything and then have a bull walk out 135 yds from camp was a blessing from Above!
Our bull measured 47" with 2x2 brow tines.
We field dressed by headlamp and finished exhausted at 4am. We were whooped, but done. God is good, and would STILL be good had we NOT gotten our moose, but we are very, very blessed and thankful.
We hunted a river corridor for a total of 10 days and for the first 9 we didn't see or hear any bulls. It was getting frustrating to say the least. We were hunting at first light every day and out till dark, only taking a siesta around lunchtime for a bite to eat and possible nap. The first week we had rain and more rain. We hunted sloughs, openings, floated whisper quiet down stretches of the river calling with cow calls and bull grunts/raking periodically. No responses. None. Zippo. Zero. ...But somewhere a fuse was burning.
I whispered a hundred prayers, "Lord, please bless us with a moose. Send one to us or direct us to it." Our meat supply was dwindling at home and it was important for us to be successful.
I was reminded of a verse of Scripture in Proverbs 12:27. In fact, I read this verse just a couple days earlier in my compact New Testament with Psalms & Proverbs that I take into the field. "The slothful man roasteth not that which he took in hunting: but the substance of a diligent man is precious."
We needed to be that diligent man. Stick it out. Keep working hard. Don't get discouraged. Press on through adversities. Stay with the plan. Be diligent. Don't lose hope.
We only encountered a couple cows and one with a calf over many days. To my knowledge we didn't jump or spook any moose that ran off when they saw, smelled, or heard us. It seemed that they just weren't there. Was the rut late this year? Did the population crash? There were tracks and sign nearly everywhere we went. We didn't know anything else to do but to continue what we'd been doing. We didn't have a viable option nor the time required to relocate to another area. ...But the fuse was burning.
I reminded my son that everything could change in a matter of seconds and that we needed to be diligent and not get discouraged. As I spoke those words to him I was encouraging myself too! Unbeknownst to us the fuse kept burning.
We came back to camp just at last light on Thursday the 14th. One more day left to hunt in this any bull area. We were whooped. My back was aching. We were cold, hungry and wiped out. Would it be an 11th hour bull on the last day of season? I'd heard of those situations but never had experienced one myself.
I wanted to go sit by the fire and make something warm to eat and drink. It was nearly dark and pretty difficult to see. Instead of sitting in camp I walked to a nearby vantage point that afforded views 150 yds in several directions over the river and some openings nearby.
I made a few cow calls and listened to them echo off into the distance. Glassing the areas I thought to myself, "It's getting so dark I now can hardly make out anything inside the treeline. But I'll wait another couple minutes." ...And that fuse was burning down, down, down, lower and lower, shorter and shorter.
Suddenly the silence exploded as I heard branches breaking nearby! Big, thick spruce boughs breaking hard. CRRRRACKKKK! SNAP! CRASH!
I looked to my left and 135 yds away out from the treeline stepped a bull. All I had to see was antlers. Any bull would do! My rifle was slung on my right shoulder. I was standing in a thicket of rosehip sticker bushes and didn't have a rest or place to sit for a shot. I chambered a round in my Tikka 300wm, settled the crosshairs on the point of his right shoulder as he quartered to me and squeezed the trigger just as that dynamite fuse terminated with a BLAST that sent a Barnes 180 grain ttsx through the vitals on this year's meat supply for the family.
The bull made a dash into the river as my son came running and said, "He's still up and on his feet!" Do you want me to shoot him again?!" From my angle I could not see that he was still standing since some brush obscured my view. I said "Yes, shoot him again!" He drilled him right behind the ribs broadside with his Tikka 30-06 and put a 180 grain Federal Trophy Bonded Tip through the chest. Our bull then turned and dropped right on the bank at the water's edge. It was done. This year's hunt was done. We were exhausted but stopped right then and there to say, "THANK YOU LORD!!!" He certainly blessed our efforts. We high fived and hugged and said, "Did that just happen? Can you believe what just happened? Can you believe it?!!!"
To have hunted as many days as we did and not see or hear anything and then have a bull walk out 135 yds from camp was a blessing from Above!
Our bull measured 47" with 2x2 brow tines.
We field dressed by headlamp and finished exhausted at 4am. We were whooped, but done. God is good, and would STILL be good had we NOT gotten our moose, but we are very, very blessed and thankful.
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