Friday, October 24, 2014

Moose Week 2014, Part 1 (Sarah's bull)

October is already here ...half gone actually...and I hadn't gotten around to a recap of this year's INSANE moose season.  Or..Moose 'Week'.  Technically it was eight days, but in that span we were able to see more than a dozen bulls on a half dozen outings, and in the end...four of them came home with us. :)  That, of course, is part of the reason why I haven't posted yet.  Despite that fact, this was far and away the greatest moose season we have experienced here in Russian Mission.  It had it all:  Seeing big bulls, seeing LOTS of bulls - make that LOTS of moose, period - dryer weather meant more access and less slogging around in water - we had beautiful weather, the list goes on and on.   Shall we get going with the recap?...  (I will be posting the four parts of this post in reverse order, so that they read from the beginning to the end, top-down - so for parts 2-4, scroll down or find them in the tag list at the lower right.)

So, this was the year we meant to make a concerted effort for Sarah to get out and get her first bull.  Every year - even going back to our days in Pilot Station - she hadn't gotten many chances to get out in moose season for one reason or another.  This year, we weren't going to let that happen.  One way or another, we were going to get her a bull, even if that meant we had to go out with the boys in an attempt against all odds.  And we did in fact go with the boys on our backs...several times:

Being as we live in an incredible place where you can kill a bull directly across the river from town (Hah! more on the irony of that statement later) we devised a plan that, in the evenings, I would watch the young'uns and Sarah would jet across the river by herself and hunt til dark.  Daily.  And so it began.  On her first outing, she came back and reported that nothing showed in the meadow.  Some ducks in the pond was about it...but she sure enjoyed the quiet time and the recharge it brings. :)  Second night, things got a bit more interesting.  As she called, a bull snuck out the trail we use to get in to the spot and busted her, slipping into the thick stuff before she had a shot she was comfortable with.  Dang it!...   Third night, she texted (from the meadow, heh heh)  that she was getting annoyed with the ducks making noise and a porcupine that wouldn't quit chewing on a tree above her and let her listen for moose.. :)  She did see two cows though, poking their heads out of the willows - not really offering a shot anyway, but stuff like that keeps the fires burning.  After that, we were closing in on the arrival of Sam and Jerry on Friday and we decided that, come what may, we would have to sneak a trip (trip's') in while they were here and that was that.   We discussed all the events of the week, and how she was feeling that we just needed a break, and if it was going to happen that we would be 'sent' a bull and everything would just fall together and that would be it.  We can't, and shouldn't have to, force it to happen.   Little did we know her words would become literal reality in so many ways....

Friday, September 19th.  It came quicker than seemed possible after so many months of waiting.  I was truly starting to get amped up with the realization that the best week of the season was quickly approaching, and not having gotten out at all except for scouting trips.  It was decided that Sam would stay at home with the boys after we put them down for the night and Sarah, Jerry, and I would head out.  After all, the week's events seemed to show that the boys were sleeping well and we could circumvent Abram's feedings with a moose hunt and be back before he realized his mom was ever gone.  That night we got them both asleep early and headed out just a little after 6 o clock.  By the time we got the boat unstuck out of the mud and everything in the boat squared away, we were heading down river at about 6:45.  We cruised around the sandbar where the slough enters the river and entered the mouth right around 7.  I throttled down to a soft purr and we began searching for moose on the banks as we cruised...

We have often 'crept' right up on moose drinking on the banks in this slough, and so Sarah and Jerry were on high alert up front. :)

After what seemed like an eternity, we made it to the landing where we always park, and got out of the boat.  We made sure we had all the gear we wanted, shells were in, etc., and began the sneak to the chain of meadows where we planned to call for the evening.  Excitement was high and the anticipation was killing me.  I REALLY wanted Sarah to get a bull, and this also being Jerry's first trip out with us, we all, of course, were hoping it would go well.  I remember thinking, "If we can just see some moose, this will be a win, but I sure hope we can get a bull's attention."   It is a fairly short walk to the first meadow,  maybe 2/3 of a mile long, with a banana-shaped lake/pond that curves to the left.

So, roughly 100 yards later, maybe a little more, as we first emerged from the trees, I decided that we would just try a quick call after glassing, and then we would move along the treeline on the right side of the meadow until we could head further right through the treeline into the second meadow.  I had a good feeling about that second meadow, which is back in farther, and contains a decent-sized lake to boot.  But we would never get there.  After glassing initially, and seeing nothing, we began drfting right to get along the trees and stay out of the grass.  By grass, we are talking about 5-6 feet tall hay-like grass.  It was a bit windy, and so that likely masked some of the noise the three of us were making, swishing through it.  And then it happened.  About 100 yards out, I stared in disbelief as a bull stepped out of the treeline straight ahead (the same one we were trying to walk along), and then stopped, broadside.  And then...he turned his head the other way, his rack reflecting the evening light.

Immediately, I dropped to the ground in a crouch, shucking the pack off my back, opening it and removing the Gatorade bottle moose call while looking over at Sarah.  She was already crouched too, as was Jerry, and I remember seeing her mouth the words, "There IS one!"...  I shared her disbelief, and it grew as I looked back up and saw that he hadn't moved and was exactly where my eyes had left him.  I was thinking I might have to call to get his attention if he turned away and starting walking where he was looking.  I whispered to Sarah as she was flipping the scope covers off, "When you're ready let's stand up and you take him as soon as you can.  Take your time and plug him...I'll shoot after you do.  Whenever you're ready!"... and I stood up, filling my scope with moose neck.   I checked him out, and my initial thoughts were that he was a decent bull, in the 40's for sure, maybe close to 50, after seeing his ears out and where his palms reached to out past them.  They always look bigger from behind though.  And then his head turned from looking away, to looking to our left.  I stole a glance over to Sarah, and she was bearing down, peering in the scope.  I quickly looked back and settled on the bull's neck again, hoping it was going to go bang any second...and about two seconds later, it did...

I have never seen a moose drop so fast that wasn't hit somewhere in the neck or spine.  Ever.   That moose kind of leaned to his right and dropped like a bag of concrete.  I mean RIGHT now.  My first words were "Holy!!.....dropped that Son of a B right there, baby!"  I couldn't believe it.  If you were to lie in bed and dream up how you would like a fantasy moose hunt to go, this was pretty much it.
In the craziness that followed, as we all took off across the meadow to check out the bull, I remember Jerry saying, "Look at that...it's only 7:30...the Ten-Minute moose hunt!!"  Indeed.  From the boat to "Bang!" was less than ten minutes, in fact.  It wasn't long and we were snapping pictures.  Let the photo mania begin!





So, we made the decision to quarter him up, get the guts out and spread the pieces to cool overnight.  With three knives going, it wasn't long until we were stuffing raingear for Sarah to carry out the backstraps and the loins.  (We left the game bags behind..oops.  Oh well, it sure was close to home, so no biggie.)



That way we could come back the next morning with everyone, including the boys, and get the beast out.   The next morning, Sarah, Jerry, Sam, Warren, Abram, and I all made the walk back into the meadow.  We all were cautious in approaching, as we knew there very well could be a bear waiting for us.  That didn't evolve, but we did still suspect it might be worth calling before we got packing, just in case there was another bull nearby.  As it turned out, I called out a 50-incher, but it wasn't to be.  He didn't offer Sam a shot, as we had all but given up and gotten down to work before he emerged, and he busted us.  Which in the end worked out okay.  We had some work to do, and it was Warren's birthday after all.  He, by the way, was having a blast just like the rest of us:




Between all of us, and the short pack, it didn't take long.


After the meat was out, there was time for a couple last pictures at the scene, and then it was time to carry out the head...





And back down the slough we went...

Landed on the beach at home!

And from there, "Moose Week" began.  Here is the trailer I put together of this year's video.  The long version is too large to put here, but family will be getting theirs soon. :)  'Til then, here's a shorter glimpse.  I will place this on all four of the "Moose Week" posts - so if you read them all, it will all be the same vid. :D  Thanks for watching... Post number two of moose week to follow...




























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