Lets have your moose hunting story, here's mine

[John Y Cannuck]

This happened about six years ago. We were hunting just south of North Bay Ontario. I was watching a small swamp, from a home made ground blind. I had been there all day. It was getting dark, and time to leave. I decided on one last call. I hadn't called for quite a while, so I made a quiet moan into my hands.
Instantly there was a crash in the bush to my right. A yearling bull came out of the bush making straight for me. I had no adult tag. He was getting awful close. I stepped out into the clear. He kept comming! I looked for trees to climb (none!) He stopped twenty feet in front of me. He sized me up for a few seconds, then turned and ambled across the swamp. I felt braver then, and called to him. He stopped and looked back, continued on his way. I stopped him once more, just before he vanished on the other side. Great memory, wish I'd pulled the camera.

[Rick Teal]

Mine was in 1989. (I haven't shot a moose since '91, so I have to go back quite a ways for most moose stories.)

We had 1 bull tag (for 7), and had started the week checking for track and then running out pieces of bush where we thought moose might be.  On wednesday, some of the guys wanted to run out a piece where we'd seen tracks at dark the night before, but some of us were certain the moose was moving at a rate that would put him right out of our territory.  Four guys went after the moose and 3 of us decided to hunt individually.

I announced that I was going to hunt where I thought a moose might be rather than where one was.

As I got near the area I planned to still hunt, I noticed 2 things.  There was no moose sign newer than 2 months old (I thought I'd have to eat my words), and the wind had switched around making it impossible for me to hunt the way I had planned.

I had planned to go from north to south in the thick stuff beside a series of beaver lakes.  The north wind scotched that plan.  I then decided to cut east and climb a high ridge that had a small swamp on top, work my way south, and then swing west and hunt the area south to north.

As I crested the ridge, i heard a loud crack, and froze.  I then saw part of a moose in the balsams near the edge of the swamp.  The moose developed into a cow as she began moving south along the edge of the swamp.  I decided to parallel her (at about 30 yds) to see if there was a calf (legal) with her.

After about 100 yds I determined there wasn't a calf with her, but remembered the year before when a cow led me away from her bedded calf.  I doubled back and lost sight of the cow.

When I approached the end of the swamp (where I'd first seen the cow), I heard another loud crack, and heard the sound of an adult moose running toward the north-east through a stand of pines.  I assumed that this was the cow (which I thought had doubled back with me), however, I began throwing my gun to my shoulder (just in case).

I caught a flash of the animal through a gap in the pines and saw a part of an antler.  I pulled ahead to the next gap hoping the bull didn't turn away from me before he got there.  He didn't.  This time I saw a better flash of antler and then his chest, so I fired.  He was gone as fast as I saw him (total elapsed time was probably less than 5 seconds).

I then heard some loud thumping and crashing out of sight behind some of the pines - he was down.

He was my biggest moose with a weight of close to 1300 pounds, and a deformed rack that still mearused 47 1/2 inches and scored about 130. :-D

The adventure of getting him back to camp is another story. :wink:

[Yukon Jack]

Oh no, you ain't suckering me into tellin' 'bout the time I busted an ol' big 'un in Copper Slough, on the wrong side of the dang adjective strewn Nuwoytlin hills, an it fell through the ice an I had ta skin the dang thang unner water practically up ta my neck in ice water.  Didn't even git back ta camp that night.  Nearly broke my dang ankles, bof uf em, wagging that silly cut up carcass across the skeg and tussocks.  5 miles from camp they said, shoot fire and brimstone, I'da sworn it was a hundred.  Me packing a hunnerd pound chunk of froze moose flesh all over creation all by my lonesome.  Sorry so an so was in full glory an' fat as a Clysdale.  Nope I ain't tellin' that story.  Last doggone big ol moose I shot though.  I jis go after them spikes and forks nowadays.  I done did larn my lesson.  So there, I ain't gonna tell that story, nope.

YJ

[Daveinthebush]

We started out latter than we had planned heading across the Yukon about 6:30 pm at night. There was particular spot in a slough that we noticed sign on recently.  As we sat in the boat next to a cut I suddenly yelled, "Mark, bull!" and swung around with my rifle.  We both fired from about 30 yards and the bull ran off.  Mark thought that he heard it drop, so we walked over there. No moose!  I had only my pistol and the bull wasn't there.  We had both left our rifles in the boat.  We tracked him for a ways and he seemed to just keep going and going.  I managed a couple of pistol shots to no affect as we trailed him.  Then Mark proclaimed that the bull went down again.  We sneaked up a bit and I could not see him.  How do you loose a refrigerator on legs?  Suddenly the bull dove into the river and started to swim away.  I pulled the pistol up again and from only 30 yards proceeded to listen to 6 clicks as the pistol sounded off on empty cartridges.  I had some more cartridges and started to dig around.  I loaded again as the bull now 60 yards away was almost across the river.  I fired once again striking near his ear into the water, hit his right antler next and then planted one into the back of his head as he was swimming 65 yards away from me with the .44 magnum pistol. What fun!  Now Mark and I had to return to the boat and get over to the moose.  We found our way back to the boat and then to the moose.  He was about a 45" spread moose, bigger than yesterday.  I could not believe it!  Two moose in two days and one with the pistol!  What fun!  

How do you drag a 1,200-pound moose to shore and clean it?  We ended up standing in the water and having to clean it right in the river.  Mark and I knew that we had to do what we could because if we left anything at all the bears would clean it up but good.  We worked until 11:30 p.m. before we could cut off all the meat that we could and head home.  Another Yukon River crossing at night with no lights- Why do we do this?  I think that I am getting used to crossing the river at night.  It is not a good thing to do but I have faith in Mark and my abilities.  The trip was slow, the meat placing a strain on the motor.  After all, I could only drag a hindquarter and with the grass shore even with the boat slide it onto the bow of the boat.  Tough work, and Mark and I both have been sore for days.  It took both of us to carry the pelvic section and dragging just the hide/head onto shore was a back breaker.  We never made it home until 1:30 in the morning, getting used to floating that Yukon at night.  Were nuts!

[markc]

:shock:   I just gotta hunt moose someday.  What fantastic stories!   markc

[John Y Cannuck]

There was the time my cousin bagged a yearling. He was in a tree stand over looking 300 yards of swamp in either direction (he was on a point in the swamp) The yearling walks out, and he ups with his old 303 and nails it. Or did he? The moose shows no reaction and walks towards the creek in the middle of the swamp. He is shooting the old war horse like he's on the front line in WW2 by now. No F'n way your going to drop in the water you S.O.B.
OOPS
We were out in the swamp standing in very very cold waist deep stinking swamp water, using flashlights, and lanterns, it was midnite by the time we were done gutting and quartering that moose so we could load it in the boat.
Had a fool of a time even getting the big Lund boat in there, and worse coming out loaded.
Would I do it again? When do we leave!