Pete McMiller
Well-known member
This is a sequel to Just Moose’n Around from 2013. http://duckboats.net.nmsrv.com/cgi-bin/forum/gforum.cgi?post=227151;search_string=moose;#227151
After that hunt I was talking to one of my boys and he asked me if I would ever do it again. I responded that I might in a few years. His comment was “Dad, why do you want to wait? It’s the same retirement money you have saved whether you go next year or in 5 years.” I said. “Thanks Mark.” I was able, with very little persuading, to get three other guys to go this year. All are bow hunters but I was the only traditional guy.
We had a fabulous trip and included a couple nights in Maine (thanks Tyler) where I ate 4 lobster in 38 hours J
Here’s my story – Moose 2014
It was the fifth day of the hunt and dawn was still two hours away but the sky was already bright. The Hunter’s Moon lit up the landscape with a silvery sheen. Today’s the day my quest for a bull moose is going to be fulfilled. I’ve ‘known’ in my own way for a month now – there is no doubt in my own mind. Others in camp scoff but I picked the day last year too.
After coffee and a quick breakfast we headed out – my guide, Alvin, and myself. I have been asking him since yesterday where we were going to hunt today. His response has been “not sure”, until this morning. After breakfast he said “you’ll see” when I asked him again.
As we were walking away from the cabin we stopped at the four wheeler – Crap! He knows I hate riding that damn thing, but, three miles over the bog in a wheeler is way better than slogging on foot so I suck it up.
As we crest the ridge behind the cabin we see a sight that I don’t remember ever seeing before – total lunar eclipse. Yep, another omen of a great day.
We stopped 2+ miles away and started walking. A quarter mile later we stop and set up to start calling. It’s pretty open country, a lot of short grass bog interspersed with spruce and tuckamore islands of one to three acres. Within a couple of minutes Alvin spots a cow across the valley on the side of a ridge. Within minutes there is a bull with her. Not a monster but a bull that I would gladly take. He is probably an 8-10 pointer with the right side palmated but I have told Alvin that any bull is a trophy for me. Both of them are feeding on the black spruce and have no interest in our “come hither big boy” calls.
After a bit of discussion we move 300 yards closer and set up again. This time we are on the east side of a small bog with a pond the size of my garage in the middle. We have a remote speaker so that is set up 20-25 yds away to the south. Alvin is a great mouth caller but after 5 weeks of hunters I know his voice can’t keep up.
The cow and bull are still where we saw them the first time. Again, the bull is totally ignoring us. Oh he might look up occasionally but goes right back to feeding. Then I think I hear a grunt…Eeeewah, eeewaah. Finally Alvin hears it too but says it’s probably the bull we are watching. I’m unsure as it sounds to me (with one bad ear) like it might be 90 degrees to us. Ten minutes later the bull starts to move but he isn’t coming in our direction – strange. Why is he leaving his cow and not coming to us? We’ve been able to pull at least three bulls away from their cows this week already but this guys isn’t following the script. After walking 200 yards across the hillside he starts coming down to a bog and then we realize what’s happening. Another bull, this one a dinker 4 point, coming from the direction I thought I heard the grunt from, is heading for the same bog 3-400 yds away. I always thought bull moose grunts were so quiet you couldn’t hear them past 50 yds – not so.
Wow, never thought I would see this happen. The two bulls meet in the bog and start circling and shadow boxing. I never saw any contact but it was neat to see the stiff legged posturing. Soon they start our way through the black spruce and tuckamore, the big one in the lead and the smaller bull following. They were both together out to 150 yds and then I only see the smaller bull. What I didn’t realize until later was that the bigger bull had pulled off line and had tried to go around to the back side of our hide. We never saw him again.
For a while, nothing, neither bull shows. Then, here comes the little bull out to a point of scrub about 60 yds from me. Get ready! Here he – oops, he decides not to take a direct line but instead goes around the pond in my direction. Oh-oh, I know I am in trouble now. So far the wind has been very light, until this bulls starts our way, and then picks up from the ESE. This bull is determined to smell the cow he thought was there before committing. He gets to about 45 yds, still on the other side of the pond before catching our wind and spins on his heals. He stops, quartering away, and looks back over his shoulder, but that’s 60+yds and way too far. Whew, that was fun and really got the blood pumping.
I realize that this bull did the same thing that others have done this week – hung up down wind at 70-100 yds. They’d stop and survey the terrain before coming in and more often than not the wind would bust us. As I was talking this over with Alvin we see another bull coming off the same ridge – about the size of the first one. He is still 400 yds away and I decide to move down wind to the other side of the bog about 60-70 yds to try and intercept him before he has a chance to bust us. I hadn’t gone 5 yds before the bull sees me and turns tail and vanishes – crap! The old adage about how bad moose eyes are is bunk in my opinion.
I have nothing to lose now, might as well move to where I was headed and let’s try calling some more. I set up in the far NW corner of the bog and wait. The tuckamore is maybe 4-5 ft. tall so I can just see over it and can still glass the ridge. Every once in a while I turn and look back at Alvin and about an hour later I see he is gesturing to look up the side of the ridge.
Oh, boy – a big boy is on his way down the ridge. Alvin told me later that he watched him come over the top of the ridge a half a mile away, heading right to us. He stops at about the same point the last one that busted me did and starts tearing up a juniper and pawing the ground. I even hear a grunt or two. Then he starts towards us……..not picking his way, and not running either but is coming directly for us. At a 140 yds. he pops over a knob and into the next bog down the hill. My heart is really starting to pound now – this might really happen, oh crap. If he comes straight across the bog the wind is good, but if he veers to the north he’s going to bust me.
When I set up here I was on the edge of the bog but realize if I let him come all the way out there is the chance he might turn the other way. Still the opportunity for a quartering shot but I don’t want to take the chance. By taking a step to my left I see there is an opening about 18 inches wide out to 25 yds. and I tell myself – “he makes into that space and stops, that’s my shot”.
He stops for a minute and then starts coming again, on a straight line. Then I lose him as there is a dip in the hillside. Wait…………there he is, I just see his antlers and the top of his head at 50 yds. STILL coming. My hands are sweaty, my mouth is dry and my heart is pounding in my ears. He stops at 18 yds. and I can’t see him AT ALL. Then, he is trashing a 15 ft. spruce, I see the top of the tree shaking…Smack, Smack… Eeeeewah……. “Breath, breath – hold it together cause here he comes” I tell myself.
You know that split second when all the work and planning comes together and you know you can’t blow it now. He’s moving, and takes about 4-5 big moose steps, I take a quick glance at his head and then rivet my eyes to his shoulder – he hits the edge and my bow is up. As he comes into that 18 inch opening, I’m at full draw. He stops right where I needed him to and the string is away.
All I see is my hot pink fletch spinning to the spot I was looking. The arrow buries within an inch of the spot and he bolts. Immediately the arrow snaps off and falls to the ground. Uh-oh, what happened? Then I realize it is only part of the arrow.
He runs 40 yds. and stops. He is only 20 yds from Alvin now but 55 yds. from me. He looks around then takes a step and stumbles to the side about a foot. Backs up 6 yds., coughs, and settles onto his belly…… 34 yds from the spot I hit him. He is done. My heart is still beating so hard that I am ready to collapse. My legs are rubber, I can hardly stand up.
We wait 5 minutes to make sure but I already know it’s over. Simply the most amazing hunt I have ever been on.
Upon butchering we find that the Grizzly Kodiak had clipped the edge of one rib going in right behind the shoulder and buried in the back side of the off shoulder – a perfect double lung shot. My shaft had broken twice, the second time right behind the insert in his right shoulder. I never found the broadhead even after combing the body cavity.
Found out later that it was lodged in the meat of the shoulder and was recovered by the butcher – he threw it out before I picked up my meat.
I had forgotten my camera in my truck before flying out and relied on Alvin’s camera. That too, at that moment, gave up the ghost. Oh well, the memory in my own mind won’t ever die.
All in all I saw 11 bulls and 5 cows. All the cows were with bulls. The bull I got was the largest I saw and might even have been the one we had at 40 yds the second day of the hunt (busted that time too). By Alvin’s estimation he was 5 ½ years old. His rack was 39” and he yielded 352 lbs of meat.
The other three guys with me also scored bulls. One with a compound 45 minutes into the first day and the other two with rifles after they couldn't close the distance to bow range. We figured we came home with 1100 lbs of meat.
We built these coolers out of freezer panels from an old grocery store back in 1995. They have held a lot of Elk over the years and kept our meat mostly frozen all the way back to Wisconsin.
This young lady is Zoe, our bush pilot for our trip in the Cessna 185. That plane later blew 4 cylinders and we were brought out in a DeHaveland Beaver.
It's common for hunters to sign their empties and put them on the counter in the kitchen. While they do get a couple of bow kills a year I thought in only appropriate to put the shafts of my arrows from last year and this year up there too. The first two longbow killed moose in the history of that outfitter (over 25 years and many different camps).
Will I go again? Hmmmm won't say no but there are so many other places to look into.
After that hunt I was talking to one of my boys and he asked me if I would ever do it again. I responded that I might in a few years. His comment was “Dad, why do you want to wait? It’s the same retirement money you have saved whether you go next year or in 5 years.” I said. “Thanks Mark.” I was able, with very little persuading, to get three other guys to go this year. All are bow hunters but I was the only traditional guy.
We had a fabulous trip and included a couple nights in Maine (thanks Tyler) where I ate 4 lobster in 38 hours J
Here’s my story – Moose 2014
It was the fifth day of the hunt and dawn was still two hours away but the sky was already bright. The Hunter’s Moon lit up the landscape with a silvery sheen. Today’s the day my quest for a bull moose is going to be fulfilled. I’ve ‘known’ in my own way for a month now – there is no doubt in my own mind. Others in camp scoff but I picked the day last year too.
After coffee and a quick breakfast we headed out – my guide, Alvin, and myself. I have been asking him since yesterday where we were going to hunt today. His response has been “not sure”, until this morning. After breakfast he said “you’ll see” when I asked him again.
As we were walking away from the cabin we stopped at the four wheeler – Crap! He knows I hate riding that damn thing, but, three miles over the bog in a wheeler is way better than slogging on foot so I suck it up.
As we crest the ridge behind the cabin we see a sight that I don’t remember ever seeing before – total lunar eclipse. Yep, another omen of a great day.
We stopped 2+ miles away and started walking. A quarter mile later we stop and set up to start calling. It’s pretty open country, a lot of short grass bog interspersed with spruce and tuckamore islands of one to three acres. Within a couple of minutes Alvin spots a cow across the valley on the side of a ridge. Within minutes there is a bull with her. Not a monster but a bull that I would gladly take. He is probably an 8-10 pointer with the right side palmated but I have told Alvin that any bull is a trophy for me. Both of them are feeding on the black spruce and have no interest in our “come hither big boy” calls.
After a bit of discussion we move 300 yards closer and set up again. This time we are on the east side of a small bog with a pond the size of my garage in the middle. We have a remote speaker so that is set up 20-25 yds away to the south. Alvin is a great mouth caller but after 5 weeks of hunters I know his voice can’t keep up.
The cow and bull are still where we saw them the first time. Again, the bull is totally ignoring us. Oh he might look up occasionally but goes right back to feeding. Then I think I hear a grunt…Eeeewah, eeewaah. Finally Alvin hears it too but says it’s probably the bull we are watching. I’m unsure as it sounds to me (with one bad ear) like it might be 90 degrees to us. Ten minutes later the bull starts to move but he isn’t coming in our direction – strange. Why is he leaving his cow and not coming to us? We’ve been able to pull at least three bulls away from their cows this week already but this guys isn’t following the script. After walking 200 yards across the hillside he starts coming down to a bog and then we realize what’s happening. Another bull, this one a dinker 4 point, coming from the direction I thought I heard the grunt from, is heading for the same bog 3-400 yds away. I always thought bull moose grunts were so quiet you couldn’t hear them past 50 yds – not so.
Wow, never thought I would see this happen. The two bulls meet in the bog and start circling and shadow boxing. I never saw any contact but it was neat to see the stiff legged posturing. Soon they start our way through the black spruce and tuckamore, the big one in the lead and the smaller bull following. They were both together out to 150 yds and then I only see the smaller bull. What I didn’t realize until later was that the bigger bull had pulled off line and had tried to go around to the back side of our hide. We never saw him again.
For a while, nothing, neither bull shows. Then, here comes the little bull out to a point of scrub about 60 yds from me. Get ready! Here he – oops, he decides not to take a direct line but instead goes around the pond in my direction. Oh-oh, I know I am in trouble now. So far the wind has been very light, until this bulls starts our way, and then picks up from the ESE. This bull is determined to smell the cow he thought was there before committing. He gets to about 45 yds, still on the other side of the pond before catching our wind and spins on his heals. He stops, quartering away, and looks back over his shoulder, but that’s 60+yds and way too far. Whew, that was fun and really got the blood pumping.
I realize that this bull did the same thing that others have done this week – hung up down wind at 70-100 yds. They’d stop and survey the terrain before coming in and more often than not the wind would bust us. As I was talking this over with Alvin we see another bull coming off the same ridge – about the size of the first one. He is still 400 yds away and I decide to move down wind to the other side of the bog about 60-70 yds to try and intercept him before he has a chance to bust us. I hadn’t gone 5 yds before the bull sees me and turns tail and vanishes – crap! The old adage about how bad moose eyes are is bunk in my opinion.
I have nothing to lose now, might as well move to where I was headed and let’s try calling some more. I set up in the far NW corner of the bog and wait. The tuckamore is maybe 4-5 ft. tall so I can just see over it and can still glass the ridge. Every once in a while I turn and look back at Alvin and about an hour later I see he is gesturing to look up the side of the ridge.
Oh, boy – a big boy is on his way down the ridge. Alvin told me later that he watched him come over the top of the ridge a half a mile away, heading right to us. He stops at about the same point the last one that busted me did and starts tearing up a juniper and pawing the ground. I even hear a grunt or two. Then he starts towards us……..not picking his way, and not running either but is coming directly for us. At a 140 yds. he pops over a knob and into the next bog down the hill. My heart is really starting to pound now – this might really happen, oh crap. If he comes straight across the bog the wind is good, but if he veers to the north he’s going to bust me.
When I set up here I was on the edge of the bog but realize if I let him come all the way out there is the chance he might turn the other way. Still the opportunity for a quartering shot but I don’t want to take the chance. By taking a step to my left I see there is an opening about 18 inches wide out to 25 yds. and I tell myself – “he makes into that space and stops, that’s my shot”.
He stops for a minute and then starts coming again, on a straight line. Then I lose him as there is a dip in the hillside. Wait…………there he is, I just see his antlers and the top of his head at 50 yds. STILL coming. My hands are sweaty, my mouth is dry and my heart is pounding in my ears. He stops at 18 yds. and I can’t see him AT ALL. Then, he is trashing a 15 ft. spruce, I see the top of the tree shaking…Smack, Smack… Eeeeewah……. “Breath, breath – hold it together cause here he comes” I tell myself.
You know that split second when all the work and planning comes together and you know you can’t blow it now. He’s moving, and takes about 4-5 big moose steps, I take a quick glance at his head and then rivet my eyes to his shoulder – he hits the edge and my bow is up. As he comes into that 18 inch opening, I’m at full draw. He stops right where I needed him to and the string is away.
All I see is my hot pink fletch spinning to the spot I was looking. The arrow buries within an inch of the spot and he bolts. Immediately the arrow snaps off and falls to the ground. Uh-oh, what happened? Then I realize it is only part of the arrow.
He runs 40 yds. and stops. He is only 20 yds from Alvin now but 55 yds. from me. He looks around then takes a step and stumbles to the side about a foot. Backs up 6 yds., coughs, and settles onto his belly…… 34 yds from the spot I hit him. He is done. My heart is still beating so hard that I am ready to collapse. My legs are rubber, I can hardly stand up.
We wait 5 minutes to make sure but I already know it’s over. Simply the most amazing hunt I have ever been on.
Upon butchering we find that the Grizzly Kodiak had clipped the edge of one rib going in right behind the shoulder and buried in the back side of the off shoulder – a perfect double lung shot. My shaft had broken twice, the second time right behind the insert in his right shoulder. I never found the broadhead even after combing the body cavity.
Found out later that it was lodged in the meat of the shoulder and was recovered by the butcher – he threw it out before I picked up my meat.
I had forgotten my camera in my truck before flying out and relied on Alvin’s camera. That too, at that moment, gave up the ghost. Oh well, the memory in my own mind won’t ever die.
All in all I saw 11 bulls and 5 cows. All the cows were with bulls. The bull I got was the largest I saw and might even have been the one we had at 40 yds the second day of the hunt (busted that time too). By Alvin’s estimation he was 5 ½ years old. His rack was 39” and he yielded 352 lbs of meat.
The other three guys with me also scored bulls. One with a compound 45 minutes into the first day and the other two with rifles after they couldn't close the distance to bow range. We figured we came home with 1100 lbs of meat.
We built these coolers out of freezer panels from an old grocery store back in 1995. They have held a lot of Elk over the years and kept our meat mostly frozen all the way back to Wisconsin.
This young lady is Zoe, our bush pilot for our trip in the Cessna 185. That plane later blew 4 cylinders and we were brought out in a DeHaveland Beaver.
It's common for hunters to sign their empties and put them on the counter in the kitchen. While they do get a couple of bow kills a year I thought in only appropriate to put the shafts of my arrows from last year and this year up there too. The first two longbow killed moose in the history of that outfitter (over 25 years and many different camps).
Will I go again? Hmmmm won't say no but there are so many other places to look into.
