And So It Begins...
- Thread starter DrMike
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DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
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Well, we showed Dan a moose with antlers. Being from Saskatchewan (and somewhat slow) he wasn't able to get his rifle off his shoulder. We were up at 3 (again). We each sleep walked to the truck and I drove by Braille toward the scene of the crime. In the dark, I missed the appropriate road a few times. After wandering up and down a rough country trail, in desperation I finally hung a sharp right turn, and it turned out to by the correct place I wanted to be. We drove into a massive cutblock about the size of Manhattan, NY, descending at an alarming rate toward the valley floor. I've only torn off one nerf bar and the cap off another whilst banging the sidewalls off of boulders the size of a small semi and logs left over from the flood (yeah, that one--Noah's), trying to be as quiet as possible.
In a fit of excitement, Dan stumbled (ran) downhill while Gerry and I glassed the valley floor. The plan had been to walk down into the bottom and glass for moose. Frantically waving at Dan while hissing sotto voce, we finally slowed him enough to suggest that he move more slowly and deliberately. Wow, you talk about excited! He began pointing excitedly and fairly shouting, "Moose! Moose!" Knowing that he had been equally excited about the black angus cattle we saw yesterday, I attempted to calm him while Gerry began to hiss in his best effort to be cool and urgent simultaneously while pointing in the opposite direction to that in which Dan was pointing. Dan was pointing at a cow that quite obviously was deaf as she continued grazing placidly. Gerry was excitedly pointing at a young bull that was gazing at us with a look that conveyed something akin to, "Wow! It is freedom day at the asylum!" I did my best to look both directions at the same time. It didn't work, but I was able to get my Swarovski RF binos raised to the calf standing about eighty yards from us. With one voice, Gerry and I said, "Cow/bull." I counted a forkhorn bull; Gerry saw a bald head. I continued looking, verifying that it was antlered before calmly saying to Dan as the moose shook its head in a sign of obvious disgust and turned to head back into the timber. Dan, loathe to take his eyes off the cow, turned reluctantly to see what the commotion from myself and Gerry might be about. It was as close as he would come to a moose today. The cow barked a warning to the young bull which seemed to snap Dan out of his reverie.
The cow trotted away, stopping every once in a while to look forlornly into the forest where her two-year-old bull calf had disappeared. The calf began to walk up and down in the woods (if the sound of his stumbling was any indication). Dan began a stalk down the road, apparently attempting to ensure that the cow and calf would remain separated as he situated himself between them. Gerry and I amused ourselves by watching the fiasco unfold before our eyes for nearly a half hour. Giving up on Dan, who disappeared from view, I walked back up the mountainside to retrieve my Tundra. I glassed the valley several times on my climb as I could hear horses quite agitated some distance away. Both Gerry and I concluded that possibly a grizzly or wolves were in the vicinity and the horses were somewhat spooked.
I managed to get the Tundra down to the valley bottom so I could at least rescue Gerry. I had concluded that Dan was likely lost, perhaps eaten by wolves or said grizzly. However, upon arriving at the valley floor, there was Dan. He had managed to find his way back without a road map. We agreed that Gerry would climb up top to push through the bush in hopes we could drive the young bull out. He did manage to flush some whitetails. Dan identified them, but fortunately didn't shoot them as they are not in season. I had walked over a few hundred yards in an effort to watch from the opposing side of the finger of trees whether said young bull would emerge in hopes of being reunited to his mother. Never happened. Now, not only had Dan managed to fail in his attempt to tag a bull, but he broke up a happy family. There is undoubtedly a broken-hearted young bull who does not know what to do with himself and a grieving cow who will seek to subsume her grief with a transient affair with some dark, stinky stranger.
In the interim, we managed to get out of the valley without tearing the transmission out of the truck and explore several other cutblocks that showed signs of multiple residents. The Toyota was driven into areas that only quads should go. Perhaps I would have restrained myself, but Dan's nervous screams distracted me at inopportune moments and permitted me to plunge down inclines that I wished to avoid.
We did do one final drive that took us into unexplored territory. Dan walked one way; Gerry walked the opposite way. I guarded the breakfast. Whilst focused on guarding our meager stash of foodstuffs so that we would be able to survive until found by those searching for lost hunters, I heard noises in the open forest beside me. I listened intently, watching for what might be making noise. Dan was wandering along the road in my direction at the moment when I frantically motioned him to be quiet (shaking my fist at him while alternately grabbing my throat). He seemed genuinely befuddled by this standard silent language. However, he did finally stop and look into the woods in the direction I had been looking. A group of elk were moving through the woods, close enough that I could hear them breathing and catch the occasional snapping of branches. Dan was coming back to tell me that he had found beds. Well, I'm reasonably certain I know what had been occupying those beds until moments before they began to drift through the woods past me.
In all, a productive morning. However, all work and no play makes Mike a dull boy. Now I have to play with a few rifles. So, my afternoon is filled with other responsibilities. We'll be out in the same general area tomorrow. It is only a matter of time until we connect. Truthfully, we've had a pretty good time (other than lack of sleep, improper nutrition and the usual jockeying for position when looking for game). Focused on the responsibility to find and then shoot a moose, I failed to take a single picture. However, both Gerry and Dan have assured me that they have taken pictures.
In a fit of excitement, Dan stumbled (ran) downhill while Gerry and I glassed the valley floor. The plan had been to walk down into the bottom and glass for moose. Frantically waving at Dan while hissing sotto voce, we finally slowed him enough to suggest that he move more slowly and deliberately. Wow, you talk about excited! He began pointing excitedly and fairly shouting, "Moose! Moose!" Knowing that he had been equally excited about the black angus cattle we saw yesterday, I attempted to calm him while Gerry began to hiss in his best effort to be cool and urgent simultaneously while pointing in the opposite direction to that in which Dan was pointing. Dan was pointing at a cow that quite obviously was deaf as she continued grazing placidly. Gerry was excitedly pointing at a young bull that was gazing at us with a look that conveyed something akin to, "Wow! It is freedom day at the asylum!" I did my best to look both directions at the same time. It didn't work, but I was able to get my Swarovski RF binos raised to the calf standing about eighty yards from us. With one voice, Gerry and I said, "Cow/bull." I counted a forkhorn bull; Gerry saw a bald head. I continued looking, verifying that it was antlered before calmly saying to Dan as the moose shook its head in a sign of obvious disgust and turned to head back into the timber. Dan, loathe to take his eyes off the cow, turned reluctantly to see what the commotion from myself and Gerry might be about. It was as close as he would come to a moose today. The cow barked a warning to the young bull which seemed to snap Dan out of his reverie.
The cow trotted away, stopping every once in a while to look forlornly into the forest where her two-year-old bull calf had disappeared. The calf began to walk up and down in the woods (if the sound of his stumbling was any indication). Dan began a stalk down the road, apparently attempting to ensure that the cow and calf would remain separated as he situated himself between them. Gerry and I amused ourselves by watching the fiasco unfold before our eyes for nearly a half hour. Giving up on Dan, who disappeared from view, I walked back up the mountainside to retrieve my Tundra. I glassed the valley several times on my climb as I could hear horses quite agitated some distance away. Both Gerry and I concluded that possibly a grizzly or wolves were in the vicinity and the horses were somewhat spooked.
I managed to get the Tundra down to the valley bottom so I could at least rescue Gerry. I had concluded that Dan was likely lost, perhaps eaten by wolves or said grizzly. However, upon arriving at the valley floor, there was Dan. He had managed to find his way back without a road map. We agreed that Gerry would climb up top to push through the bush in hopes we could drive the young bull out. He did manage to flush some whitetails. Dan identified them, but fortunately didn't shoot them as they are not in season. I had walked over a few hundred yards in an effort to watch from the opposing side of the finger of trees whether said young bull would emerge in hopes of being reunited to his mother. Never happened. Now, not only had Dan managed to fail in his attempt to tag a bull, but he broke up a happy family. There is undoubtedly a broken-hearted young bull who does not know what to do with himself and a grieving cow who will seek to subsume her grief with a transient affair with some dark, stinky stranger.
In the interim, we managed to get out of the valley without tearing the transmission out of the truck and explore several other cutblocks that showed signs of multiple residents. The Toyota was driven into areas that only quads should go. Perhaps I would have restrained myself, but Dan's nervous screams distracted me at inopportune moments and permitted me to plunge down inclines that I wished to avoid.
We did do one final drive that took us into unexplored territory. Dan walked one way; Gerry walked the opposite way. I guarded the breakfast. Whilst focused on guarding our meager stash of foodstuffs so that we would be able to survive until found by those searching for lost hunters, I heard noises in the open forest beside me. I listened intently, watching for what might be making noise. Dan was wandering along the road in my direction at the moment when I frantically motioned him to be quiet (shaking my fist at him while alternately grabbing my throat). He seemed genuinely befuddled by this standard silent language. However, he did finally stop and look into the woods in the direction I had been looking. A group of elk were moving through the woods, close enough that I could hear them breathing and catch the occasional snapping of branches. Dan was coming back to tell me that he had found beds. Well, I'm reasonably certain I know what had been occupying those beds until moments before they began to drift through the woods past me.
In all, a productive morning. However, all work and no play makes Mike a dull boy. Now I have to play with a few rifles. So, my afternoon is filled with other responsibilities. We'll be out in the same general area tomorrow. It is only a matter of time until we connect. Truthfully, we've had a pretty good time (other than lack of sleep, improper nutrition and the usual jockeying for position when looking for game). Focused on the responsibility to find and then shoot a moose, I failed to take a single picture. However, both Gerry and Dan have assured me that they have taken pictures.
truck driver
Ammo Smith
- Mar 11, 2013
- 7,321
- 882
Dang it started out as the three Stooges and now it sounds like the Marx brothers and Harpo ( Dan ) :roll: :lol: :mrgreen: is on the loose.Too much, Thanks for the up date DrMike. 
nvbroncrider
Handloader
- Aug 20, 2011
- 3,085
- 4
Pretty good stuff there. Sounds like all the bumbling idiots I observed.
The good doctor has made my night.
I can conjure the scene in my mind, expressions and all, by the descriptive text. Too bad Dom Deloise is not around to play the part of the good Dr. Mike.
Bob Denver and Jim Nabors would also for in very well in this screenplay.
Vince
Sent from my SGH-M919 using Tapatalk
I can conjure the scene in my mind, expressions and all, by the descriptive text. Too bad Dom Deloise is not around to play the part of the good Dr. Mike.
Bob Denver and Jim Nabors would also for in very well in this screenplay.
Vince
Sent from my SGH-M919 using Tapatalk
cloverleaf
Handloader
- Sep 10, 2006
- 4,382
- 1,017
McManus look out..... :lol: :lol: Dr Mike you are a good soul. Have fun, but be safe boys. CL
- Thread starter
- #91
DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
- 37,332
- 6,026
Noah joined us this morning. Days are getting shorter here in the north, and so I allowed the sleeping beauties to catch a few more winks, not wakening them until 3:15 this morning. Then, it was stumble about in mass confusion, seizing gear and clothing (not always in that particular order) and scramble to the truck. We stopped to pick up Noah, and we were off for the killing fields. (Actually, it is more a case of the looking fields.) I warned the Saskatchewan Flash (aka "Dan") that he must never look a gift moose in the mouth. (Surely, you have each heard that warning in your own ventures into the wilds.) He had a perfectly good opportunity yesterday, and he passed it up, opting instead to watch a forlorn cow trot away, pausing to glance back from time-to-time with a dejected look registering her consternation at having her breakfast interrupted. As fate would have it, Gerry drew the short straw and was chosen to push the bush this morning. We let him off at the top of the clear cut with instructions to push the bush, ensuring that all the moose secreted in the trees would come out to permit us to assess their assets. Yup, the best laid plans of mice and men (and moose hunters)... Gerry did manage to do his part, taking only an hour and fifteen minutes to find his way through the trees to a site near where we secreted ourselves. Unbeknownst to me, the Saskatchewan Flash was seized with an acute case of wanderlust, and left his AO completely without surveillance. Noah and I were set up on the opposite side of the forested finger, awaiting the arrival of moose. Dan disappeared, later insisting that he saw a rabbit (or something) leading him down a rabbit hole with a strange encounter with a cat (and his grin), a mad hatter and an obese queen. But I digress.
Noah and I faithfully maintained our position (well, that is true for one of us, though I would never divulge the fact that my grandson kept lowering his head to inspect his navel). I did hear animals moving about, though they never revealed themselves for inspection. At long last, we heard a large creature crashing through the forest, moving closer, ever closer to where we were secreted. The crashing was accompanied by loud moans and occasional gasps, as though the large, unseen creature was in considerable pain. Noah asked if he should put said creature out of its misery. I assured him that there would be ample time to dispatch the poor critter later. It was about that time that Gerry revealed himself, frantically waving his arms and silently mouthing some strange plea. It looked as if he was saying, "Don't shoot! Please, don't shoot!"
Later, the poor man allowed that the bush was pretty thick in this lower finger, but that it was marked by several fresh moose beds. I knew I had smelled moose, only awaiting their arrival. To say I was disappointed is to be quite restrained. Eventually, we all assembled, trekked back to the truck and drove down into the valley floor and back to the east end of the massive cutblock. We saw neither moose nor bear. Then, it was time for a trip up to the top where we could at least enjoy a delectable repast of smoked chum (supplied from Gerry's own store) and crackers (thank you, DrMike), bison sausage (the Saskatchewan Flash), fresh carrots (from Sask Boy's garden) and assorted other delicacies too numerous to list. Dan had thoughtfully placed all the muffins together in one bag, so that as he sat on them they would be reduced to a paste the consistency of--well, I'm uncertain how to describe it. Suffice it to say that without milk and a spoon, it would be difficult to ingest. Still, the morning repast was a decided hit with the famished hunters.
We explored other areas during the remainder of the morning. Dan bravely walking into a clear cut. (I suspect that he only went in until out of sight and sat down to snooze). Gerry, Noah and I inspected another clear cut, driving vast distances to ensure that the far reaches of that particular area held no antlered critters for which we were looking. After retrieving Dan (wakened by our approach), we drove to another clear cut Gerry and I had discussed the previous evening after discovering it on Google Earth. I deposited the Marx Brothers (Chico, Harpo and Groucho) to explore the clear cut while I reflected on the day. My deep contemplation was rudely interrupted by my grandson taking a photo of me with my eyes closed and weighing on the serious matters that still needed to be resolved. The rude laughter of my companions was enough to make me want to waken them at 3 tomorrow morning, when we will undoubtedly again brave the wilds of northern BC to pursue the elusive moose.
Noah and I faithfully maintained our position (well, that is true for one of us, though I would never divulge the fact that my grandson kept lowering his head to inspect his navel). I did hear animals moving about, though they never revealed themselves for inspection. At long last, we heard a large creature crashing through the forest, moving closer, ever closer to where we were secreted. The crashing was accompanied by loud moans and occasional gasps, as though the large, unseen creature was in considerable pain. Noah asked if he should put said creature out of its misery. I assured him that there would be ample time to dispatch the poor critter later. It was about that time that Gerry revealed himself, frantically waving his arms and silently mouthing some strange plea. It looked as if he was saying, "Don't shoot! Please, don't shoot!"
Later, the poor man allowed that the bush was pretty thick in this lower finger, but that it was marked by several fresh moose beds. I knew I had smelled moose, only awaiting their arrival. To say I was disappointed is to be quite restrained. Eventually, we all assembled, trekked back to the truck and drove down into the valley floor and back to the east end of the massive cutblock. We saw neither moose nor bear. Then, it was time for a trip up to the top where we could at least enjoy a delectable repast of smoked chum (supplied from Gerry's own store) and crackers (thank you, DrMike), bison sausage (the Saskatchewan Flash), fresh carrots (from Sask Boy's garden) and assorted other delicacies too numerous to list. Dan had thoughtfully placed all the muffins together in one bag, so that as he sat on them they would be reduced to a paste the consistency of--well, I'm uncertain how to describe it. Suffice it to say that without milk and a spoon, it would be difficult to ingest. Still, the morning repast was a decided hit with the famished hunters.
We explored other areas during the remainder of the morning. Dan bravely walking into a clear cut. (I suspect that he only went in until out of sight and sat down to snooze). Gerry, Noah and I inspected another clear cut, driving vast distances to ensure that the far reaches of that particular area held no antlered critters for which we were looking. After retrieving Dan (wakened by our approach), we drove to another clear cut Gerry and I had discussed the previous evening after discovering it on Google Earth. I deposited the Marx Brothers (Chico, Harpo and Groucho) to explore the clear cut while I reflected on the day. My deep contemplation was rudely interrupted by my grandson taking a photo of me with my eyes closed and weighing on the serious matters that still needed to be resolved. The rude laughter of my companions was enough to make me want to waken them at 3 tomorrow morning, when we will undoubtedly again brave the wilds of northern BC to pursue the elusive moose.
truck driver
Ammo Smith
- Mar 11, 2013
- 7,321
- 882
Wait a minute there are only Three Marx Brothers, surely your not referring to your Grandson as being Chico since we know who Harpo is and we all guessed you were Groucho since your the head of this entourage so that leaves Gerry to be Chico. :roll: :lol: :lol: :mrgreen:
Thanks for the days summary, but still know pictures?
Thanks for the days summary, but still know pictures?
- Thread starter
- #93
DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
- 37,332
- 6,026
truck driver":20cdo4sn said:
I'm so busy herding cats that there is no time for pictures, Rodger.
truck driver
Ammo Smith
- Mar 11, 2013
- 7,321
- 882
OK so I'll bite , how do you herd cats?
- Thread starter
- #95
DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
- 37,332
- 6,026
truck driver":2lflb28v said:
With great difficulty.
truck driver
Ammo Smith
- Mar 11, 2013
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Yeah me too but I don't think there will be much hunting with DrMike ( Groucho Marx) herding cats.
- Thread starter
- #99
DrMike
Ballistician
- Nov 8, 2006
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Vince":1qk4dn9x said:
Make them! I initiated them! Who do you think taught Col. Whiskers? :mrgreen:
nvbroncrider
Handloader
- Aug 20, 2011
- 3,085
- 4
Dr I'm in much pain!! Rolling on the floor with a twisted gut. I really need help.
