DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
- 36,935
- 5,129
It was not a good day yesterday! I took my son-in-law hunting (it was his first trip as a hunter). He is a forester, and quite familiar with the northern wilds, having walked frequently along grizzly paths, been chased up trees by rutting moose, and tracked by black bears in the wild. However, he has never hunted, and he wanted to be in on the kill and learn about skinning and dressing moose. So, my hunting partner and I decided to take him along. My partner insisted that we go in his truck, as he had been compelled to pull my Ford out of a muskeg a week ago. Despite my misgivings, I acceded to his request.
This was not an unreasonable request, and I had already fulfilled a similar obligation for my dentist and an RCMP sergeant who were unfamiliar with dressing animals after a kill a week ago.
I wanted to take him to an area that is well populated with moose so that there would be a reasonable opportunity to fulfil his desire.
The day started propitiously as we encountered a nice three-year old on the way into the area. Unfortunately, he was moving awfully fast as he did not like the Dodge truck in which I was riding. Moose in this area are very discriminating, I believe.
We hunted hard all morning, and saw not another moose. We did see a great black bear across a valley, and worked our way over to that slope. However, by the time we got there, he failed to show himself. Again, I suspect that the black Dodge may have something to do with this.
This meant that we would spend the remainder of the afternoon searching in various areas for Alces alces canadiensis, in hopes of finding a suitable candidate to serve as a teaching aid.
Not finding a moose willing to accept my invitation to accompany me home, we made a detour to Pink Mountain so my son-in-law could see the lay of the land from atop the mountain. He was delighted, and it gave me and my hunting partner opportunity to nap, since we had been up since midnight preparing for this hunt.
About five o'clock, we began the trek back to the moose grounds, seeing precisely nothing. I know that the black Dodge is a real problem, now. However, just before seven, we saw a great bear about 700 yards away. Though it had a somewhat smallish head for the body, it was a large bear feeding contentedly near a patch of thick brush. I attempted to get closer, closing the distance to about 400 yards at which point the bruin boogied down the trail and disappeared into the brush. Searching was to no avail, and I reluctantly concluded that the beast was laughing at the escape from the great white hunter and his trusty native guide.
We reentered the truck (I still think the black Dodge may have been the problem) and drove toward the junction that would take us out as shooting light was fading rapidly. As we topped a rise (about two kilometers from our junction) we were startled by three large specimen of Alces alces canadensis. All were still in velvet and in beautiful shape. One, standing about 70 yards from where the truck came to a stop, had a spread of about 48 inches, and the other two were about 36 inch spread moose.
I fumbled with my bullets, managing to load one and grasp two more with my left hand. Gil slapped a loaded clip (358 Win) into his BLR and we exited the vehicle. From my vantage point, I could not see the bigger moose which had dropped into a ditch. Gil assumed I was on the larger and nearer animal (likely due to my ageing eyes and near dotage in his estimate) whilst he focused his attention on the one farthest from us. Unfortunately for him, there was a moose between him and the one he was focused on. That one was facing us, with an expression on his face that seemed to say, "What a revolting development this is!"
The one in the ditch, which I couldn't see, made a dash for the timber (a distance of about twenty feet which required it to take about two steps). The one facing Gil swapped ends presenting a perfect opportunity for a Texas heart shot (which he is loathe to take). The third, which both of us were actually focused on, used the cover of the centre moose to move rapidly off the road and into the bush. As they crashed through the bush, I thought I distinctly heard laughter as the moose were both relieved and amused by the Kafkaesque display of ineptitude they had just witnessed.
Everything took place in about fifteen seconds, and it was as if they had never existed. Save for the four hoof prints in the centre of the road, we might have assumed that lack of sleep was causing hallucinations.
"Why didn't you shoot?" Gil asked in exasperation. "I didn't want to drop two moose with one shot," was my rejoinder.
"How could you drop two with one shot?" he questioned. "That moose was apart from the other two"
"No," I replied. "He was standing in front of that farthest moose, and I didn't want to shoot him; and I couldn't get a bead on the farthest one until he moved."
After some arm waving and raised voices, we laughed and decided that since shooting light was about gone, it was time for us to do the same. It was time to head home, stopping at Wendy's for a late night snack. By the time we got home, I had been up for twenty-four hours and it was time for a snooze.
There is always Saturday, and I'll likely be on the same spot Saturday. That is why we call it hunting, and not shooting. I am sorry that I have no pictures of this event, as pictures of nothing are really inappropriate on a hunting thread. Soon (I hope).
This was not an unreasonable request, and I had already fulfilled a similar obligation for my dentist and an RCMP sergeant who were unfamiliar with dressing animals after a kill a week ago.
I wanted to take him to an area that is well populated with moose so that there would be a reasonable opportunity to fulfil his desire.
The day started propitiously as we encountered a nice three-year old on the way into the area. Unfortunately, he was moving awfully fast as he did not like the Dodge truck in which I was riding. Moose in this area are very discriminating, I believe.
We hunted hard all morning, and saw not another moose. We did see a great black bear across a valley, and worked our way over to that slope. However, by the time we got there, he failed to show himself. Again, I suspect that the black Dodge may have something to do with this.
This meant that we would spend the remainder of the afternoon searching in various areas for Alces alces canadiensis, in hopes of finding a suitable candidate to serve as a teaching aid.
Not finding a moose willing to accept my invitation to accompany me home, we made a detour to Pink Mountain so my son-in-law could see the lay of the land from atop the mountain. He was delighted, and it gave me and my hunting partner opportunity to nap, since we had been up since midnight preparing for this hunt.
About five o'clock, we began the trek back to the moose grounds, seeing precisely nothing. I know that the black Dodge is a real problem, now. However, just before seven, we saw a great bear about 700 yards away. Though it had a somewhat smallish head for the body, it was a large bear feeding contentedly near a patch of thick brush. I attempted to get closer, closing the distance to about 400 yards at which point the bruin boogied down the trail and disappeared into the brush. Searching was to no avail, and I reluctantly concluded that the beast was laughing at the escape from the great white hunter and his trusty native guide.
We reentered the truck (I still think the black Dodge may have been the problem) and drove toward the junction that would take us out as shooting light was fading rapidly. As we topped a rise (about two kilometers from our junction) we were startled by three large specimen of Alces alces canadensis. All were still in velvet and in beautiful shape. One, standing about 70 yards from where the truck came to a stop, had a spread of about 48 inches, and the other two were about 36 inch spread moose.
I fumbled with my bullets, managing to load one and grasp two more with my left hand. Gil slapped a loaded clip (358 Win) into his BLR and we exited the vehicle. From my vantage point, I could not see the bigger moose which had dropped into a ditch. Gil assumed I was on the larger and nearer animal (likely due to my ageing eyes and near dotage in his estimate) whilst he focused his attention on the one farthest from us. Unfortunately for him, there was a moose between him and the one he was focused on. That one was facing us, with an expression on his face that seemed to say, "What a revolting development this is!"
The one in the ditch, which I couldn't see, made a dash for the timber (a distance of about twenty feet which required it to take about two steps). The one facing Gil swapped ends presenting a perfect opportunity for a Texas heart shot (which he is loathe to take). The third, which both of us were actually focused on, used the cover of the centre moose to move rapidly off the road and into the bush. As they crashed through the bush, I thought I distinctly heard laughter as the moose were both relieved and amused by the Kafkaesque display of ineptitude they had just witnessed.
Everything took place in about fifteen seconds, and it was as if they had never existed. Save for the four hoof prints in the centre of the road, we might have assumed that lack of sleep was causing hallucinations.
"Why didn't you shoot?" Gil asked in exasperation. "I didn't want to drop two moose with one shot," was my rejoinder.
"How could you drop two with one shot?" he questioned. "That moose was apart from the other two"
"No," I replied. "He was standing in front of that farthest moose, and I didn't want to shoot him; and I couldn't get a bead on the farthest one until he moved."
After some arm waving and raised voices, we laughed and decided that since shooting light was about gone, it was time for us to do the same. It was time to head home, stopping at Wendy's for a late night snack. By the time we got home, I had been up for twenty-four hours and it was time for a snooze.
There is always Saturday, and I'll likely be on the same spot Saturday. That is why we call it hunting, and not shooting. I am sorry that I have no pictures of this event, as pictures of nothing are really inappropriate on a hunting thread. Soon (I hope).
