Moose Hunting 2010

It has been a crazy autumn this year, that is really all I can say. Closing in on finishing up a degree, getting back from Orzinski this summer only to carry out an 800-mile trip down the Yukon from Nenana to Pilot Station in our new-found boat, and all the insanity of Sarah starting up another school year at ol' P-station... yup. Crazy. Moose season started out crazy as well, and before it was done, it would get even crazier...

Well ahead of last year's sightings, I had seen 6 moose this September before even getting out there and SERIOUSLY hunting them this go round, something that hadn't happened last year. The first moose I saw last year was the one I ended up eating. The first one I saw this year wasn't even legal:


Sarah and I actually got out with our Kifaru tent and stayed upriver for three days; a thoroughly enjoyable trip that we will remember forever. That Fall smell was in the air, the seasonal colors of Alaska were reaching their peak, and life was unerringly, untouchably good. Campfires in the evening, moose hunting followed by Trophy Northern fishing in the mornings after breakfast, more moose hunting in the afternoons, and repeat, repeat, repeat. What else is there?

Our trip (and season, for us) began with a 40 mile, 2 and 1/2 hour run up the Atcheulinguk River (That's the white-man spelling version :) ). Even though it was September, the boat ride was more than just a bit chilly:


On our way, we actually came across this Lynx, out in broad daylight, just chillin' on a log. (Ummm...this never happens. Never. Especially when you circle and circle in the boat taking pictures and video and he stays put....) Very Cool.


We finally did get to camp, only having seen one moose on the trip upriver. She was, once again, a cow, that scrambled out of the river in front of us, shook like a dog to get the water off...and was gone. It didn't take long for us to set up camp and try some Northern fishing on the nearest lake while we were on our way to spot some bulls later in the evening. Sarah came up with this monster 42-inch, 20-pounder!


There are lots of pike fishermen who never will catch up with a 20-pounder, but she's already got hers.


I, on the other hand, could only catch fish like this when in a lake with its share of trophies:


We saw no bulls the first day, but lots of sign telling us that we were in the lair of the beast:






Next day, we did see a great bull (60-inch range) at about 500 yds, but he gave us the slip while we tried to stalk him. Nonetheless, we were in some beautiful country and it was impossible not to be enjoying ourselves...






Second day brought us another bull, but again too far away for a shot. In-between our still- hunting and calling we kept busy picking blueberries and watching all the migrating waterfowl...while catching more pike of course...






Though our paths would not cross with a downed bull's on this trip...it was unforgettable. We saw tons of wildlife, the fishing was incredible, made lots of memories...and there was still two weeks of moose season left after all. Here's some more pics from the trip:

Sunrises and sets:










The beloved campfire:


Actually, with school and volleyball coaching, Sarah didn't get out and get her bull. I ended up getting out twice more after our camping adventure. On the evening of September 23rd, Robert and Jeremy and I were heading back home after a full day of chasing moose around Owl slough, when Robert caught sight of a moose leaving the water back behind us up an offshoot of the slough arm we happened to be in at the time. Upon turning around, we discovered that that one moose was actually two moose - and they were both Bulls! The first, and biggest (we're talking horn) of course melted away into the thick brush before we got in and were presented with a shot. The other bull, however, studied me a moment too long, and I sent a 180 gr. softpoint through his neck and spine, dropping him like a sack of wet cement. It was cool to see, and meant we would be eating pretty well this winter. He was just a smallish 3 x 4 bull, but those are the best type for, uhh,......sandwiches.....yummmmm......

Here is a shot of the brute shortly after his demise:


On the way home (roughly around midnight) we witnessed the Northern Lights in full swing for about an hour. What a time, riding home down the Yukon river with a bull moose in the boat and the Northern Lights over my head, rolling and twisting and glowing.....Incredible, and yet another memory from out here in Pilot Station that I will never lose....

"If it don't come easy"..........

Throughout this winter, we have been awaiting the arrival of our Kifaru 8-man Tipi tent, so that we could get out there and "do it right", staying out at length and running a trapline from the tent and the back of the snowmachines. At long last we got the tent and completed the seamsealing process to weather-proof it. The first weekend out however, was a bust, as the weather just got TOO cold to deal with. (see last post) This past weekend though we decided again that the weather seemed okay and we would make a go of it. Well, once again, the weather did not cooperate quite the way it was supposed to. The forecast was that there would be a low of -5 to Zero overnight on Saturday. That, however, was not the case....

We had decided to ask the counselor's children to go with us for the trip to let them get out and enjoy the weekend, but as it turned out, only Crystal, their daughter, was allowed to go this time. She came over around 10AM on Saturday and we finished getting the sled packed up and the machines gassed up and checked. We departed, checking our existing sets along the way. That turned out to be disappointing as the last bout of snow fell upon traps that were not holding animals - and so they were covered with a layer of ice and snow that rendered them inoperable. Several pieces of bait were stolen. No catches. Snares were set off but the new snow covered up whatever tracks were there so no idea what happened there. Not much to write about in the ol' trapping journal, heh heh. But this was supposed to be a trapping trip, so here it is.

We eventually got out there to the site where we wanted to pitch the tent and get camp set up. It seemed like a beautiful day - the sun was out and the skies were clear. We should have known they were a little a TOO clear. At any rate, we began the process of setting up the tent, only to find that there were not enough tie-off trees for the tent to work out in that spot. So we moved it. We then realized that we were probably not going to find a "perfect" spot, and we should just make this one work, so that we could get things going, and get on with the rest of the trip.

After getting the tipi set up and the stove and stovepipe in place, (which took us waaay too long :) ) we decided that Sarah and Crystal would stay at camp and get the liner in place on the inside of the tent and get camp organized, - and I would go get us some firewood in the meanwhile by cutting up some dead trees I had scouted earlier in the week. I took off with the saw, and arrived at the location of the tree I wanted. But the saw wouldn't start. Hmm....checked choke, checked the carb and throttle - all was working well....but then I opened the gas cap. No gas. Hah! Back to the camp I went. Filled the saw with gas and bar and chain oil, and returned to the site of the tree. But the saw would not start. Again. Went through the checklist in my mind. Again. All was well, except for the non-starting part. I decided it must just be too cold, as I had started to notice it WAS pretty chilly, even though I had been pulling on a chainsaw cord extensively for the last ten minutes. Hmmm......

I went back to camp and broke the news of woe. I decided to get a fire started in the stove and heat up the tent, and thus the saw would warm up inside the tent with us. Sarah and Crystal went and took the axe and chopped a dead spruce into manageable portions by clearing the snow on the surface of the lake and using the ice underneath as a solid cutting surface. In a little while, the stove was blazing and we were anxiously awaiting the saw starting ceremony. After a while we tried it again, but it was still no use. Finally it was declared that we should just go gather some dead branches nearby and just get it done with the axe. Though this idea did not sound much like fun, we all were well aware that a good supply of wood was perhaps the next most important thing to air, as far as this trip being a success. So we all three set out on the machines on a firewood hunt. The girls sped off down-slough, with Crystal at the wheel, as it was her first time riding a snowmachine and of course we had to let her drive. :) I stopped at every beaver lodge in the area in the meantime, listening to the roar of their machine in the distance. As I snapped off branches from the exterior of the beaver lodges (a new lodge about every fifty feet) I could just picture the beavers huddled up inside, listening to the evil monster (me) outside, though I am sure they knew they were warm and safe under all that ice, snow, and hard work. You can tell which dams are active by at least two methods. One is an air hole, where the exhaled air from the beavs finds its way out through the snow all winter. This hole may or may not be right above the lodge - sometimes you have to LOOK for it. Another way is that the feed piles - which are usually near the main lodge - will have branches in them which are still green wood. An inactive lodge will show NO green wood/branches. After a while of gathering wood and observing which lodges were and were not active, I heard the girls returning. As the machine rounded the corner, I could see that I would need to take a picture of them on their wood gathering journey:


We loaded up what we all had found and headed back to camp. After stacking the smaller stuff, I thought we should give the saw a try before undertaking the chopping of all the big logs. To our relief, it started, as the fire while we were gone did the trick. I immediately went out and got the tree cut into thirteen rounds and drug them back to camp. At least now the firewood problem (a BIG problem) was solved. Now we could keep the stove rolling all night and then some - and it seemed we would need to, as it was feeling rather cold...again...

Sarah took some pictures of camp while we began dinner and I split the rounds into usable pieces. The tipi is hard to see until you know right where it is(which is a good thing):




Things took us so long that we didn't get much exploring done before it began to get dark. We settled in not too long after dinner, intending to play some cards or Yahtzee... after we got the stove rolling of course...




We were thawing everything out near the stove, (including that frozen butter above) and my Nalgene bottle got a "tumor" when it got too close while we were trying to get the block of ice inside to turn back into water....


Though the tipi was not expanded to its full size due to our limited tie-offs, there was still LOTS of room for us, and a good time was had by all...even the Mooshka bear:






As the night wore on however, it began to get COLD. Now, we expected to be cold, when camping out in Interior Alaska in early March - but I mean it was COLD!! Soon the stove was glowing hot and it still wasn't keeping up. Finally, at about 1 AM, I got up and went on Firewatch, keeping that stove crammed with wood to the max - the whole thing was buckling and crinkling from the heat. And the girls were still chilly - as was I - even in the sleeping bags, which are all at least zero-rated. Around 3 AM, we decided this was not good and headed for home. Throughout the day we might have figured someone was trying to tell us not to stick it out, and that if we had to work that hard to stick it out then maybe we should just go. It was perhaps the coldest my hands have ever been - on that ride home. We ended up chasing a moose up the trail in the dark - which was exciting - I kept waiting for him to turn around and try to squish-stomp us, but he didn't. He just kept on going. By the time we finally got home around 5 AM my thumb was, once again, frostbitten:


Its almost getting routine now when we go out. A couple days of feeling weird and then its back to normal again. But that white spot was a hurting unit, let me tell you. And the reason why it was frostbitten?! Well that supposed -5 to Zero temp?.... Hardly. Straight-up it was -19, and with the windchill it was -33 by the time we got home and checked online. And, if you add in our 20 mph average speed on the ride home, that -33 becomes a windchill of -68........ -68 !!!!!!!!! No wonder frostbite made an appearance!

The trapline is not dead yet though. A teacher here in Pilot has a son coming up this week into next week, and I promised him I would take him out and show him how we do it up here. He sounds totally stoked. So, we'll set up some new kitty sets and of course some fox sets and see what we can't come up with for our last two weeks. Be posting again soon!

Another Snaring Success!!!!!!

Today, although it didn't turn out as planned, certainly turned out pretty good. All week we have been planning to get out and set up the Kifaru and camp out for the weekend, and of course as a side we were going to expand the 'line into some new territory I had scouted for marten. Woke up this morning and loaded up the sled with a gazillion things, totes lashed down everywhere. Boy does it take a lot of preparation when you go and do something outside in Alaska. And that might just be my understatement of the year so far...

But as we started underway we noticed something. The air felt strangely colder somehow, even more than normal. My hands were getting cold, despite the electric handwarmers on the snowmachine being on full blast. My face was getting cold through my helmet - in fact the bridge of my nose was even beginning to hurt from the contact between it and my frozen facemask - which was INSIDE my helmet, completely shielded from the wind. Even my feet were feeling it through my Sorel boots, which had not yet happened...something was up. At our first stop to check two sets, Sarah and I both expressed our surprise at what we were feeling. It seemed COLD! We continued on, making it to the carcass pile "bait station" from a few posts ago, where I got the Cherry red Fox. There are four open 'trails' to the bait pile that I left when constructing the set. When building the wall of brush surrounding the bait pile, I left these intended routes open, except, of course, for the snare in each one. Upon approaching the scene, I noticed first whack that there was a snare hanging-wire that was bare, sticking out from the tree in the second path to the left that I had made into the pile. "That's strange", I thought. But upon looking closer, I saw that the snare cable was leading from its anchor tree down into the snow, which unfortunately is not deep enough to conceal any furbearers, except maybe a weasel. So I thought maybe the moose had been back and trampled my snares again. But then I saw that the next snare to the left was not hanging anymore either. This is all hitting me as I am walking closer....and closer. Finally, I spot the snare cable. it too leads down into the snow...but then I see where it comes back out of the snow, and is curled around the base of a group of willow trees...this clump of trees is about 2 feet from my boot. Suddenly, it occurs to me, that from under the dusting of snow we got a few days ago...there is something that looks a lot like a white paw sticking up...and then it hits me.. I have my first snared Lynx! She was severely frozen in place, and so there was not a great opportunity for pictures, and it involved some work just to get her off the ground and out of the trees without losing guard hairs, but here's a couple shots after I got the snow cleaned off of her:




So, after the fist pumping and shouts of joy, we got the kitty firmly attached to the top of a tote, and tried to decide what we wanted to do. We let Ada off the back of Sarah's snowmachine and tried to let her run (once well clear of the snares that is) but she didn't even go 30 yds, and she was lifting her feet like she was walking on hot coals, trying to run on three legs (or two) at a time....even SHE was too cold. If Ada isn't up for a run in the snow - you know something is dead wrong. We figured it was FREEZING but also thought that we could either sit at home and do nothing or we could sit in our tent, stoke the woodstove, and do nothing. So we forged on to our previously chosen campsite area. It was when we stopped to set up camp that we decided to turn back. It just didn't seem worth it. Here's a shot of Sarah and the Moo just after turning onto our back trail:


The temperature, according to Weather Underground, was a straight up -25, but with the windchill was 42 BELOW ZERO! Brrrr..... -42 is as cold as we have seen since we've been here, and let me tell you, it felt like it too...Oh well, maybe next weekend we can make a go of it...This week I am going out there to cut some firewood and get some sets out, so we'll see.

And then there were five....

Today was a beautiful day. Really. The sun was out, nearly no wind, temps right around zero...about as good as you could want this time of year. Unlike the last few days which have been rediculous - more RAIN accompanied by sleet, snow, and then more RAIN repeated several times over the last 72 hours. That was the kind of weather that makes it suck to be a trapper. Weather that makes you forget you are on the Yukon Delta in the middle of winter for crying out loud.....

..But I digress..I said today was a beautiful day, and I meant it. So I set out this morning with high hopes of setting a new marten area I had scouted out on google earth as well as checking the existing 'line. It didn't take me long to realize that my plans would change. At the very first turn heading off the Yukon, the first thing I saw while entering the slough was overflow. LOTS of overflow. Overflow occurs when water pushes out, up, and through the existing ice and begins to flow on top of the ice in its normal fashion. This usually occurs when thawing or heavy rains occur (see above :D ). The trouble is this - usually, you can not tell if the water is 3 inches deep or 4 feet deep. You know the ice is down there. Somewhere. But you don't know how far. And so you have to gun the motor and hydroplane across the water in your snowmachine. Then you don't have to care how deep the water is - well, at least you don't have to care if you go fast enough.... I'll try and post a video of this later, because there are bigger fish to fry.

Today after crossing the various pools of overflow and arriving on the Kashunuk river sloughs where our Lynx sets are (No that doesn't give much away, the Kashunuk is much longer than you think....) :) I noticed Lynx tracks about 300 yds away from one of our sets. Of course, I immediately got excited, and started staring at the tracks. They continued in my very own old snowmachine tracks all the way to within a short distance of our Dead Tree set. Unfortunately at this point they turned left sharply, and went up the rise straight to the Turkey Neck set, which I had pulled on the last check. The little sucker went on a beeline directly to the set and munched what was left of the turkey neck and the beaver leg - now that the trap is gone of course...and then moved off in the opposite direction of the other sets in the area. So I continued on to the Dead Tree set. Nada. Undisturbed. The freeze/thaw cycles combined with the rain however turned the snow over the trap into a nightmarish, impenetrable crust. I think I could have stood on the pan and the trap would not have gone off. "Oh, well, at least we didn't lose any more bait", I thought. After the remake, I looked over at Sarah's set and I couldn't see it very well as I had to look directly into the sun. I crossed the slough and walked over the rise to inspect it closer, anticipating the annoying remake that the weather bestowed upon me. "But wait....what was that?!...Did I just see movement?... No, there's nothing there at the set...Something caught my eye though...what the..whoa! The flagging is on the ground! But there's nothing there....and the spruce hen is gone...but there's nothing th..." And then two little black tufted ears moved and appeared behind the trees making up the cubby. There, behind the stump, was Sarah's very first, and her very own, Lynx canadensis!!!!! Yesssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

First I must divulge this top secret photo of Sarah as we were about to disembark on one of our recent journeys. I think it is the trip during which she made the set, but she disagrees:


At any rate, here are some more pics of her first Lynx trapping endeavor. (first solo that is, as we all know she is partly responsible for ALL of our lynx so far)

She picked the location, she broke the dead limbs, she created the cubby, she blocked it up, and placed the stepping sticks:


Here she is with her finished product:


Now I have to give you a little background. On Saturday, while she was playing b-ball in St Mary's, she was fouled, and with that foul came a scratch on her left middle finger that left the whole fingernail coated in dried blood. Almost immediately upon arriving home Saturday night, she took off her glove and told me about the foul, and then added, "Hey that must mean I got my Lynx in the left front paw, huh?" This is reference of course to my belief in the 'voodoo' about drawing blood and the success of the hunt/trapping/fishing trip. There are countless examples from which to choose from in order to validate my claims, but I will let this one speak for itself. She did this all on her own, without provocation. I daresay she may even have been mocking the voodoo, but I will never know. I know this, however - the following are photos of a Lynx. And its foot is firmly held in a trap. Sarah's trap. And it is a LEFT FRONT FOOT that is IN the trap!!!!!! ......"Touche", say I !!!!! Every other Lynx trap I checked today was crusted over with snow and ice. I also must add that the rain began on Saturday, and the freezing temps Saturday night and Sunday night and...The Voodoo has spoken! If you want my bet, the cat was caught in the trap Saturday night, but I'll leave it at that. :D Have a look:




And, turn up the volume and check out this clip of a VERY VERY angry kitty. Lots of hissing and growls on this one:



Check this out as well - you couldn't get a Lynx paw any further in that trap if you HELD it for 'em:


CONGRATULATIONS to "Honeysweets"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The bull is down!.....

YEEE-HAWWWW!

The ghostly spectre on the left in these photos is me, sitting on my behemoth of a moose! (Don't worry, more pics later in the post to document the event, it's just that we didn't recover him until right at dark. I know, these are terrible, but they are all I have of my first moose while he was still in one piece)




After finally thinking that we were never going to connect with a moose this year, the season was extended until the end of February, and on Monday I went out with Abe, Robert, and Matt. The journey was about 80 miles roundtrip, but just before dark, the first moose we had seen all day appeared. He was taking refuge in a willow thicket which borders a river on two sides. After 'flushing' him out, I found myself barreling down the river standing up with the seat squeezed between my knees, pulling the rifle off my shoulder, pulling the clip out of my pocket and locking it in the gun, racking the bolt to get a shell in the chamber, trying to not hit any bumps, and trying to get to a location where I would have a shot. It was a hairy couple seconds there - not sure how fast I was going, but let's just say that the bull's speed was dictating that more than my own discretion...

At any rate, I chose a good angle, because I finally got a glimpse of him striding off through the spruce and willows at an amazing rate of speed. Very strange how a moose runs - the legs appear to be the only thing moving - the body and head just kind of float along on a level plane. Looks goofy, but they are covering some GROUND, let me tell you, and they do it with what looks like no effort at all. A negative aspect of this however, for the moose, is that your target areas basically do not move up and down at all, unlike, say, a deer. So when you put the gun up, you do not have to compensate for any movement other than the horizontal. MUCH nicer than when a whitetail is streaking across a field at 30 mph and you don't know if he's going to leap up in the air on THIS jump or the NEXT one...

In this case, the bull was about 300 yds away ('measured' afterward - not just a guess) and moving straight away - directly toward a stand of spruce which takes up about 5 square miles. In other words, it was shoot now or forget it. So I held for the spot where I presumed my bullet would strike the back of his neck, and squeezed. He immediately looked like someone who is running downhill and their legs cannot catch up to their body - his head went down and forward and his legs seemed to start flailing and windmilling - but the big sucker didn't go down. Oh, no. I hadn't hit the spine - instead the bullet went just left of center and hit just meat and blood vessels. Because the spine was not hit, all the .300 WSM did was change his mind on where he wanted to go. He must have decided that he wanted to cross the slough, instead of paralleling it anymore, after that little 'bee sting', and so he turned to the right and began to cross the slough. I chambered the second shell and, with the crosshairs on his front shoulder, swung the rifle with him to get his 'speed'. Once I got a feel for how far to lead him, I put the crosshairs out in front and waited for him to come in. When the beard came into line with the crosshairs, I squeezed again, planning to place the bullet in his lungs. You could hear the bullet strike him as the blast seemed to have a double echo. Not like a long, slow, echo off the nearby hills that you usually hear on a miss - this was a KA-WHAM! He stumbled for a surprisingly short moment, and then, to my shock, continued on as though nothing had happened. Just up the slope of the draw he paused and looked right at me...at which moment I proceeded to promptly place the crosshairs once again on his lungs and squeeze. All I heard was a deafening CLICK!......

It was at this moment that I realized that in the frenzied chase a few moments before, I lost one of the shells in the clip of the gun. It was loaded with three when I left the house, but when the bull stopped briefly and looked at me following the second shot - all I got was a dry fire. The third shell must have fallen out while I was racing down the slough with my eyes on the bull instead of the clip. Any-who, the bull proceeded to run into an astonishingly thick stand of mutant willow trees, that nothing could seemingly push through. But he could. And he did...

Robert and Matt went around to the top of the thicket to wait and watch, as there was nothing but open tundra for miles if the bull left the willows. Abe and I went in the brush on foot, trying to either flush him out again into the other guys or put the finisher in him ourselves. It didn't take long to see where the bull had been standing and coughing out blood. Now I've seen my share of blood trails - even trails in the snow, which of course are magnified, but this was a serious blood trail. I could have laid down in it and not reached both sides of the swath. It was amazing that the animal was still running - at least to me it was. Abe knew better from his extensive moose experience, of course. He said I he was just glad I hit him good and "slowed him down"! Hah! One in the neck and one in the boiler room with a .300, and he used the term 'slowed him down'. Now that's funny. Suddenly, Abe points to a spruce about 50 yds off in the thicket in front of us, which happens to be violently shaking. He says, and I quote, "Hey look, it's getting windy over there!"...Unable to keep from laughing, I realize that the bull is likely stumbling and running into the trees in his current state. We push on...in a short while I hear a heavy rustling, shooshing, noise in the brush immediately in front of us - it is the moose - but is he going away, or is he coming AT us? (which wounded moose are prone to do when given the chance - moose kill far more people than bears do) Robert lets us know the answer.... WHAM! His .30-.30 barks out in front of us about 100 yds. Then again, WHAM! Suddenly, an eerie yell erupts from the tundra out ahead: "AAIIEEEEEEYYEEEE!!!" And then, WHAM! another shot. What on earth is going on up there? Abe and I retreat to our snowmachines and bowl over brush on our way to the scene of the shots. And finally at long last, I behold my bull moose, there on the ground, looking like he is the size of a motor home. Here's a video taken just moments after I leaped on top of the beast and gave him a bear hug and a few swats, among a chorus of yells from our group. Yessssss!!!!!!!!





We were butchering from 7:30pm until 10 oclock (as the video mentions, I think) and every one of us was also nearly out of gasoline after our full day of riding, all while nearly 30 miles+(depending on when you looked at the GPS) from home. The decision was made to leave the cut-up bull in the snow overnight and go back on Tuesday to get the meat. Here are some pics from the next day:

Some of the terrain out there:


A closer look of the same shot. That's Abe looking back at me, wondering why I have stopped. :)


The area is a lot of open tundra (and frozen-over lakes and ponds), which is dotted with ribbons of brushy (VERY brushy) lowlands which border sloughs or rivers. This next two shots show the brushy thicket the bull went into,and a glimpse of the open tundra beyond - there is a hidden river down in that bottom, which is the one I roared down, originally, trying to head him off.





My snowmachine and the area once again:



Here is the hide and head - note the bloody pedicels where the horns had recently fallen off. It was a meat hunt anyway, but I never thought my first bull would be bald as a bean...


A pile of snow-covered meat, about 300-400 lbs worth without the bones, maybe more! - which regulation dictates you must leave attached until you bring it out of the field.




This is a pic of our sleds, loaded up and ready to go. All that you see there on the ground here is the meat pile, minus the bones and hide of course. Some of it is partially covered in snow. Man, what a great location for some wolf traps!