Off we headed, cruising downriver again. Before we left we snapped a picture of the two girls with their weapons - my .30-06 and the other, a massive hog-leg .45-70 pistol. Made for a great pic!
*And for those who may be wondering, yes, permission slips have been signed for the use of photographs like these. :) I make a point every year to get the students to take one home and have their parents read and sign it, just so all our activities can be shared. But I won't be using any names. :)
Anyway, we headed downriver and made it to 'the spot' a little later than we had planned, but still in good shape. And as we entered the lake, I immediately spotted a cow, standing on the left side of the lake (same general area we got my bull in two days before). I asked the student who would be shooting if she was partial to a bull, seeing as we can take both this year in our GMU. She thought about it for a bit, and then said, "No, I want a bull!" Jerry and I laughed and I replied, "Way to be. Let's get one then." Meanwhile we were creeping up on the cow, who was so engrossed in looking into the trees straight away from us that we were starting to get pretty close. Hmmm, interesting. She was FOCUSED...and at this time of year, I wonder what could have her attention? That was enough for me, it was decided we would pull up to shore straight out from where the cow was standing, work our way in to one of the pockets of trees in the meadow, and call...to whoever it was that cow was focused on. :)
Once we got on shore and got set, I began calling, hoping to lure out the bull we were now quite sure was in there, somewhere... But that didn't last long. Just a few minutes into it, once again, we heard a boat coming. Hah! Imagine that. It cruised by, roaring past at full throttle, trying to keep up on plane to avoid bottoming out no doubt. Ahh, the joy of having a smaller boat with a short draft. :) But on they went, all the way to the back of the lake, just as the other one had, out of sight. I wasn't worried this time - after all, look how that worked out last time. But we decided after calling a bit that we would get back in the boat and head farther towards the back of the lake ourselves. We got in, and began slowly purring through the weedbeds, scanning the shore on all sides. Before too long, we got into the mud, and I had to pull up on the cowling to get the motor to make any headway. As we tooled along like this, searching for the channel again, we all heard it. The boat, coming back our direction. As it got to within 200 yards of us, we saw it take a turn, and then it whipped a donut in the water and accelerated over to a blonde patch of meadow grass on the left side of the lake.
Our (or at least my) hearts sank. As soon as I saw that, I knew. And a few seconds later, my certainty was proven correct. Figures could be seen jumping out of the boat as it hit shore, and three quick shots rang out. Then a fourth. And then the figures sprinted out through the meadow to the left, becoming obscured by the trees. Damn! There was our bull, I figured. The disappointment was contagious. "Man, we should have gone faster!" the girls were saying. We can only do what we can do. But...as I was saying, and as the pervading theme goes: As soon as you lose faith... :D
I had no intention of going over to the boat, so we turned around, and I mentioned that we should keep watching for moose to emerge from the trees just in case. It was then that the girls decided that they had to use the restroom. So we made it to shore and threw out the anchor. The two girls disappeared into the trees, and Jerry and I kept watch on the other boat, about 300 yards away now. Suffice to say, they took a while using the restroom, and Jerry and I pulled the rods out and started fishing. It was a WHILE... But everything fits, and sometimes things just work out despite what we think is a delay or a hindrance. As darkness was closing fast, I was getting antsy to get to a new vantage point and maybe make the last calling session of the night. Not wanting to accept defeat, I was planning which spot we should race to when I heard the girls coming back. They emerged from the trees, giggling and carrying on. I looked away as they got to the boat and were putting the anchor back in. Just before I was going to let the motor back down and start it, I happened to glance up and look across the arm of the lake we were in to the meadow on the other side....
And here they came. Looking back, it was kind of funny how what I planned to say ended up coming out as one long slow sentence as things played out quickly. It sounded something like this, they told me later: "Hey, look! moose!...it's a cow!...and a calf!....keep watching, there could be a bull behind them...and there he is!!!" The cow ran straight toward us, cresting into view as she got near the lake shore. Seeing us (we were only 150 yards away), she turned to our right - her left - and ran along the crest above the water's edge. It was then that I saw the calf behind her, struggling to keep up. And then, as my brain, and my voice, was cautioning that there could be a bull behind them...there he was. This was all playing out in the general area that the cow earlier on had been fixating on, by the way. Imagine that.
There was a scramble behind me like you've never seen. :) The girls jumped on the boat, waded through all the gear and life vests and chairs, digging for the rifle; Jerry was fashioning a rest for shooting near the back of the boat by me and coaching the shooter into position. I let out a cow call as loud as I could...And he stopped. The cow and calf kept running. That was trouble. I asked Jerry how the situation was going without turning my head. "Stall 'em", was all he said. Oh, great. A few more seconds of staring at us and the bull swung his head back towards the cow and calf and took a step. Another cow call, loud as possible. Looooong and loud, and as lovesick as I could make it sound. :D It worked. He stopped again. And stared. "Good grief", I thought, "What is taking so long?" Well, of course there were three people trying to get into position on a crowded little boat loaded with gear and find a decent place to get a rest and take a shot from - and they hadn't done this before. Ever. That's what was going on. But for me, time was dragging on through five eras, and I was getting itchy. I knew that bull was itchy, and I wasn't sure I could keep his attention from that real, live, sure-thing cow in front of him much longer. He moved again, and I called again. This time, he kept trotting. Crap!...
Then, miraculously, he encountered a dip in the meadow and after he went down into it, he came out on the other side of it and rose up above the meadow grass, more visible than he had been thus far. You could now see about a third of the way down his body, instead of just his neck and head. I howled out another cow call, and he stopped. I hadn't seen such a beautiful thing in a long time. Beginning to freak out, as I knew our time was short and getting shorter, I looked at the frenzy and saw the student was down and looking through the scope. "That rifle is right on, *her name here*" I said, "put it just below his hump and squeeze!" And I stared. And stared. Felt like forever, but was probably only 3 or 4 seconds. The bull turned his head toward the cow again, and I knew he was taking off...and it went "Bang"!!
Before my ears even started ringing (as I discovered, I was right in line with the muzzle), the bull's back legs dropped out from under him, his rear end hit the ground like a sitting dog, and then his front end gave out and he dropped out of sight. Down. I could not believe my eyes. The pandemonium that ensued was quite noisy, I can tell you. :) After calming everyone and making sure the safety was back in the 'safe' position, we all found a seat and I immediately started the motor and boogied over to the far bank. We jumped out, tossed the anchor, and I sprinted up the crest of the hill... I couldn't see him, which either meant he was still down or had gotten over a "near-spine" hit and was already up and gone. After seeing him, I had my money on the latter, but hey, you never know. I ran to where I first saw grass thrashing, then a hoof, then some tines, and then I relaxed. We had him. Yessssss!!!!
*Her name here* put a finisher into the neck, and we stood around and savored the moment. Laughing, slaps on the back, recounting the story again and again. The good stuff. We all knew we had made memories forever. It sure was a good feeling. And she was as happy as I've ever seen her. After things calmed down a bit, we grabbed the camera and took some pics before starting the work we knew was headed our way:
The rest of these are blurry, I know, but they're all we have except for the video. So here they are. :)
The four of us, giving a Warren smile!
About the time we started cutting, that other boat showed up, and we discovered that they had seen and shot at the 'big boy' (when you see that one, you'd know - I don't care what you try to tell me) but didn't get him. With a lot more hands around, the cutting went fast, and soon we had the brute loaded into the two boats, and the rack in ours. On the way home, the Northern Lights came out and spread across the sky in a yellow and green curtain. The Yukon was glassy calm and the night became legendary. A fitting cap to a legendary season. Four bulls, eight days. Memories to last forever.
The whole crew right before we headed for home:
When you kill your first moose, you are supposed to eat a slice of liver or kidney, right then, at the kill. The liver on this moose was a little spotted and questionable, and so we opted for the kidney. :)
Where did all that meat go, I am sure some of you are wondering? Four moose?!? Well, Sam and Jerry each took a load of it home, we filled all our freezers, and my student's bull was distributed throughout the village, as is the tradition for someone's first moose. We took the next morning and drove house to house:
A lot of fun, and it ended up adding to the experience. It is a good feeling to give. I almost wish moose season lasted a little longer...we have to wait eleven more months now...
The Moose Week trailer, once again...
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