RilePrecise
FNG
- Joined
- Aug 23, 2022
- Messages
- 64
This year I wound up being that guy. The one no one likes. The guy you swear at under your breath even if you pretend to smile at him when he tells you the unbelievable: "I pulled an Idaho moose tag the first year I applied."
I came to hunting in my late 30's, through precision rifle shooting and the urging of a buddy who seemed to know I needed it. I consider myself new to hunting, and am definitely not experienced where moose or any other potential backcountry hunt is concerned. Most of my experience with hunting has been harvesting cow elk on a rancher's property in Oregon. Sure, you have to be able to shoot straight at a distance, but it's hardly a true hunting experience. We sleep in real beds, and there's a pool.
As anyone should, given similar circumstances, I asked for help. The buddy who'd gotten me involved in hunting to begin with, Ryan, had also encouraged me to apply for the tag. He's the Good Idea Fairy. He was going to be there no matter what, and had already hunted the unit. Next on the roster was my good friend Scott, a giant of a human in build and character. Perfect guy to pack a moose and to not get worked up over the mistakes a new hunter would make. I've seen the guy parent and run a company, he was going to be there and be the right guy. Additionally, Scott is the kind of masochist who enjoys the suffering of backcountry hunting in bad weather, so he had everything we'd need in his garage. Saved me a pile of money and time.
After grocery shopping and some range time, October came too slowly, and off we went. Ryan had been putting together an elk camp in this same unit for a few years and there was one other guy in camp who had managed a moose tag. His was filled the day before Scott and I got on the road. I was stoked to hear about it and also excited for the opportunity to see one of these cool creatures before I ever got a scope on one.
We rolled into camp mid-morning on Saturday, and got set up quick-fast due to the sheer excitement of being in the woods and Scott's practiced hand. Then off we went to glass. I cannot imagine a nicer area to glass and more critter-friendly looking knolls, draws, ridges and slopes. There were deep dark holes for big critters to hang out in, and plenty of feed.
We wound up meeting up with the rest of the fellas, and had a great first night dinner, seared up some ribeyes I'd grabbed from Costco, threw together some of those Idahoan mashers and a bag of salad. Living like kings, knowing the next morning was going to be time to git after it.
Morning came and we got to wandering. Ryan had put together a plan based on a couple other bulls that had been seen and off we went, stuffing some Svenhardts and coffee in our gullets as the road and trails climbed in front of us.
We saw some animals, but nothing like we were hoping. One cow, who we were sure was with a good bull based on earlier reports and the area, winded us.
The elk hunters we ran into and the few folks who were hunting deer (big winter kill year and a tough tag to grab besides,) were pretty much all very very helpful and kind. That being said, there were a LOT of people out and about. A couple of the guys in camp had elk tags and wound up on multiple occasions having animals bumped due to other hunters. Though Sunday came and went without locating a shooter, we did see a bull or two and heard about more that were promising.
Back at camp, and stuffing ourselves with brats and chips, Scott and I decided Monday was the day. "It's happening tomorrow," he said. One of the other fellas from camp had spotted a couple bulls that looked like shooters and there was a plan in place. Morning came, and the plan went into effect- our trio running up to a great spotting locale, and the others setting up on a far ridge, hoping that the bulls would show themselves where they'd been rummaging around previously. Right at first light, Scott came up with him. In the picture below, you can see a row of aspens and then a clump of trees to the right. That's where he was.
He was bedded, and looked great to me. Ryan asked if he looked like a shooter to me and I said he did. Ranging it, he was 958 yards from where I'd lay down to shoot. I'd taken 1000 yard shots at steel, prone and at the range. My gun (a 300PRC) and scope (a Kahles) were capable. I've only shot animals before at half that. We decided to try to make a move on him, as he was a ways away and bedded. Right as we were attempting to get to him, it became clear that the thermals were going to make it next to impossible to get to where he was without him winding us. We decided to re-group and run back up to where we were glassing from. Two other hunters with elk tags were there, and made sure to let us know he hadn't moved. Scott got on him with the spotter while we brainstormed. The father of one of the other hunters in camp showed up- a man with over 60 years of hunting experience. All of us were concerned there wasn't a good way to get to him. Then Scott let us know he'd stood up. "He's not going anywhere, he's just standing there eating." Ryan looked at me, "Hey, you've made that shot before, how do you feel about it?" I went to get my rifle. I re-located him in my binos and set up gun and bipod down in the dirt, lined up with where he was, then got down in the dirt myself. When I placed my cheek on the stock, there he was, perfectly in my sight picture. It felt meant to be. Ryan asked me if I felt good. I think I said something like "as good as I can, given the distance." I dialed to what my ballistics ap told me (20.5MOA). Ryan had suggested doing what I do at the range, and dry-firing. I did so. "How do you feel?"..."Good"..."Ok, send it."
I held high shoulder, and one bullet is all it took. He dumped where he stood, and never got up again. They are such cool animals and I am so grateful to everyone involved. All the fellas from camp showed up, and the pack out went as smoothly as it could've. Truly a once in a lifetime experience in every sense of the phrase.
I came to hunting in my late 30's, through precision rifle shooting and the urging of a buddy who seemed to know I needed it. I consider myself new to hunting, and am definitely not experienced where moose or any other potential backcountry hunt is concerned. Most of my experience with hunting has been harvesting cow elk on a rancher's property in Oregon. Sure, you have to be able to shoot straight at a distance, but it's hardly a true hunting experience. We sleep in real beds, and there's a pool.
As anyone should, given similar circumstances, I asked for help. The buddy who'd gotten me involved in hunting to begin with, Ryan, had also encouraged me to apply for the tag. He's the Good Idea Fairy. He was going to be there no matter what, and had already hunted the unit. Next on the roster was my good friend Scott, a giant of a human in build and character. Perfect guy to pack a moose and to not get worked up over the mistakes a new hunter would make. I've seen the guy parent and run a company, he was going to be there and be the right guy. Additionally, Scott is the kind of masochist who enjoys the suffering of backcountry hunting in bad weather, so he had everything we'd need in his garage. Saved me a pile of money and time.
After grocery shopping and some range time, October came too slowly, and off we went. Ryan had been putting together an elk camp in this same unit for a few years and there was one other guy in camp who had managed a moose tag. His was filled the day before Scott and I got on the road. I was stoked to hear about it and also excited for the opportunity to see one of these cool creatures before I ever got a scope on one.
We rolled into camp mid-morning on Saturday, and got set up quick-fast due to the sheer excitement of being in the woods and Scott's practiced hand. Then off we went to glass. I cannot imagine a nicer area to glass and more critter-friendly looking knolls, draws, ridges and slopes. There were deep dark holes for big critters to hang out in, and plenty of feed.
We wound up meeting up with the rest of the fellas, and had a great first night dinner, seared up some ribeyes I'd grabbed from Costco, threw together some of those Idahoan mashers and a bag of salad. Living like kings, knowing the next morning was going to be time to git after it.
Morning came and we got to wandering. Ryan had put together a plan based on a couple other bulls that had been seen and off we went, stuffing some Svenhardts and coffee in our gullets as the road and trails climbed in front of us.
We saw some animals, but nothing like we were hoping. One cow, who we were sure was with a good bull based on earlier reports and the area, winded us.
The elk hunters we ran into and the few folks who were hunting deer (big winter kill year and a tough tag to grab besides,) were pretty much all very very helpful and kind. That being said, there were a LOT of people out and about. A couple of the guys in camp had elk tags and wound up on multiple occasions having animals bumped due to other hunters. Though Sunday came and went without locating a shooter, we did see a bull or two and heard about more that were promising.
Back at camp, and stuffing ourselves with brats and chips, Scott and I decided Monday was the day. "It's happening tomorrow," he said. One of the other fellas from camp had spotted a couple bulls that looked like shooters and there was a plan in place. Morning came, and the plan went into effect- our trio running up to a great spotting locale, and the others setting up on a far ridge, hoping that the bulls would show themselves where they'd been rummaging around previously. Right at first light, Scott came up with him. In the picture below, you can see a row of aspens and then a clump of trees to the right. That's where he was.
He was bedded, and looked great to me. Ryan asked if he looked like a shooter to me and I said he did. Ranging it, he was 958 yards from where I'd lay down to shoot. I'd taken 1000 yard shots at steel, prone and at the range. My gun (a 300PRC) and scope (a Kahles) were capable. I've only shot animals before at half that. We decided to try to make a move on him, as he was a ways away and bedded. Right as we were attempting to get to him, it became clear that the thermals were going to make it next to impossible to get to where he was without him winding us. We decided to re-group and run back up to where we were glassing from. Two other hunters with elk tags were there, and made sure to let us know he hadn't moved. Scott got on him with the spotter while we brainstormed. The father of one of the other hunters in camp showed up- a man with over 60 years of hunting experience. All of us were concerned there wasn't a good way to get to him. Then Scott let us know he'd stood up. "He's not going anywhere, he's just standing there eating." Ryan looked at me, "Hey, you've made that shot before, how do you feel about it?" I went to get my rifle. I re-located him in my binos and set up gun and bipod down in the dirt, lined up with where he was, then got down in the dirt myself. When I placed my cheek on the stock, there he was, perfectly in my sight picture. It felt meant to be. Ryan asked me if I felt good. I think I said something like "as good as I can, given the distance." I dialed to what my ballistics ap told me (20.5MOA). Ryan had suggested doing what I do at the range, and dry-firing. I did so. "How do you feel?"..."Good"..."Ok, send it."
I held high shoulder, and one bullet is all it took. He dumped where he stood, and never got up again. They are such cool animals and I am so grateful to everyone involved. All the fellas from camp showed up, and the pack out went as smoothly as it could've. Truly a once in a lifetime experience in every sense of the phrase.
