Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Alaska The best prizes aren't always the biggest trophies

I know a few of you might relate to this.

I'm sure a lot fewer will admit to it however, and not without good reason. The letters S-T-U-P-I-D drifted back and forth through my head more than a few times while I tried to think over the din of the Lub-Lub-Lub I kept experiencing. WTH was I thinking� or not? I was pretty proud of myself as long ago as ten years ago or so for recognizing the fact that I wasn't 25 anymore. One would think that that lesson should be even more ingrained by now. Senility? I recently bought the first of my last three hunting licenses I still need to purchase so I'm not exactly ready for dementia, but WTH did I do?













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The End

(with several thousand words left out...... )

Nice photo story. Was it a solo affair? Curious about running the machine on the sparse snow, is that hard on it?

Yes.

No, we tend to run on a lot of hard conditions and (fan) machines can take it. 50 something year-old humans tend to fare less well.

Kid! Nice pics, Klik. Hard for me to imagine a place I'd rather be right now then just sittin here...

So, I guess I'll go over to benders' and drink his beer and eat some of the dogs off the grill and...well...tell lies

Thanks for sharing those!

Great photos.. Know the feeling this fall my wife and I took a huge cow moose 15 miles back in the mts.. Wondered what Heck are two 70 year old people doing back in here with a dead moose, and grizzlies all around.. Here we can't shoot em with out a lot of trouble.. Great memories now, but I think that foolishness is a thing of the past.. Thanks for the show..

...maybe according to the calendar...



If you didn't miss my last line in the original post, I was referencing same...

Didn't miss it Truth is, I'm just jealous as all get out, but thought tongue-in-cheek might hide that...

Keep the pics comming, eh?

Here's a little nostalgia, Mark. The pic date claim it's been 3+ years since the last conflagration!

I realize you weren't addressing me with those, though the address you used and my Viking heritage could cause me some confusion.

bearhuntr, I tried to tell the tale with words and gave up....too long, but this is kind of the gist of it, an excerpt from what was turning into a tome:

As usual, I assume, I was seen more than seeing, so it was I who was surprised when I looked up, high in the spruce trees across the river, and discovered a pair of (feminine) eyes gazing my way � actually two pairs � that I could see since she had a calf with her. And then there was another set of rump cheeks poking out of another cluster of spruce trees 75 yards behind her. Hmm, this looked somewhat promising. Perhaps I had discovered the �herd� which had previously made tracks all over upriver? Glassing gets more interesting when there�s hair involved, and I had three animals to look at. But I needed to see some antlers, so I kept looking. The cow/calf was a handy �landmark� since they were out in an opening and easy to find. The third moose was more interesting since I had not had a chance to see it�s head yet to know whether it might be legal.

But there was a bigger problem, a moral dilemma which I needed to face. No it wasn�t an issue of whether I might take an animal which had recently had antlers and lost them. (That wouldn�t have been wrong in spirit, but it wouldn�t have been legal by the rule of law � though the same animal under than same conditions would have been legal in the fall in this area.) The dilemma I faced was whether I would be able to properly recover an animal if I killed it on that hillside. So I began to study every square foot of the hillside to see what the possibilities for recovery might be.

Wait! What was that again? A big, brown hulk stood higher up and further beyond the three moose I had already seen. This one stood on posts the thickness of tree trunks with those large �donkey� ears folded back. A thick, droopy dewlap hung low beneath a heavy head with the roundest Roman nose I think I�ve ever seen on a moose. But where were the antlers? That thing was either an antlerless bull, or it was an ancient cow. And perhaps a lack of antlers was a good thing because that animal was clearly a lot more moose than I could manage to recover from the steep slopes where the snow was obviously still plenty deep. And knowing what the snow was like in the river, I assumed it was not only deep, but coarse, granular snow with a crust of window-pane ice on top. And, even assuming there was an approach to the slope that didn�t include 20-50 yards of willow patch which guarded the slope, there was no way my machine would have climbed the pitch pulling a sled or alone anyway.


Half a lifetime ago, I probably wouldn�t have considered the situation much of a dilemma. But I have two more licenses to pay for before they become forever free. And though I�m still not as smart as I once thought I was, I�m pretty sure I�m smarter than I�ve ever been.

�Hey, the third moose is moving.� I got a quick look at the whole animal before it all disappeared. �Drat, no apparent jewelry on board.� Well, I had critters to watch while I contemplated my dilemma. But really, with no antlers, it wasn�t a decision that I had to face anyway. So there it was, I watch them; they watch me. Pretty soon the cow got bored and laid down. Then her calf laid down. The third moose was still hidden, having moved in the direction of the cow. The big brute decided to disappear into a large stand of dark spruce trees. The temptation to look for antler scars was gone. And there�s the cow and her calf��.hmm, now there two calves. Perhaps the third moose was also a calf; it looked small, but not that small. Hmm?

I checked the time. A couple more hours and light would be waning�gotta do something here. No antlers evident; need to find something with antlers. Perhaps I should move on. Just a few more minutes and then I�m going to make a move. Everything seemed to be getting pretty settled in and comfortable; I was hitting the wall of distraction. I watch the cow watching me; I scan back toward the big old brute. Woa! The �third� moose is back again, standing right out in an open corridor up in the trees. The binos easily revealed skinny bones atop his head against a backdrop of white snow. Binocs down, rifle up, crosshair settled across the top (at a bit beyond 300 yards perhaps), BOOM! Legs flailing skyward. Wait! Seriously? Did I just do ��..WTF?

It might be easy to be be envious now. At that moment....not so much. Trust me.

"And though I�m still not as smart as I once thought I was, I�m pretty sure I�m smarter than I�ve ever been."

I tempted to say that about myself as well, but in a few years, I'll probably have cause to look back and wonder about that. Good story and pics, sure rings true as the years add up.

That fire paled in comparison to last nights....the beer was better too

What the heck is that white stuff on the ground?

Klik,

Thanks for that! I find that the amount of pleasure I recieve from a similar trip is greatly extended by writing it down. Each and every time I recall my journal, I am brought back to that very moment. The reliving has no lasting effect on my joints and old bones, yet somehow I can still feel that part too. Enjoyed your re-telling much.

BTW, Did you make that freighter also? Looks like the deal to me...

It's one of mine....



.......been around

At least Mark isn't so far gone that he forgets a camera.......grrrrrrr. Nice write up a pics s to boot!!

congrats Mark


by the third roast consumed the pain will be largely forgotten


well unless stuff still hurts

but the eats! ahhhh therein lies the rub

Congrats on making meat! And I thought the new snow goes had uber soft rides for old folks?

It always seems to be the other guy that manages to shoot the bull right next to the trail, river bank or plane

That machine is actually a 'sport' type; it's an '08 Freestyle, aimed I think at the kids who want a machine to throw about in the powder and untrammeled stuff. It's actually one of the better machines I've used for getting off track and maneuvering through thick stuff. It even has a stout rear end and bumper, very capable of towing. It does allow a better position for old, creaky knees, but the ride is a bit harsh on the front end due to the sportier set-up they have there. I got a nice pair of custom (colors) wide Pilot skis off from eBay (cheap) and they are a lot better than the Camoplasts it had (when I bought it lightly used off from a Nome cop.)

I had to remind myself that I've profited from enough 'easy' moose - an oxymoron, that, I suppose- to make this one a 'field leveler'.

Did mine this year in the dark all by myself. Today I am 50. I think its downhill from here on... LOL.

There is a LOT of satisfaction in things like you did. But that also involves a lot of work.

ALways like the photos!

Jeff

And assuming you don't have portable stationary spotlights available - (and who does when hunting?)- once darkness hits, and without extra hands to help aim lights among other things, the job changes exponentially.

I decided at the get-go that this was an S&M project. (S&M, of course , meaning "slow and methodical".) I figured I would work on it as fast as I dared but with a "medical: do no harm" (to myself) approach. The hill he was on, besides being covered in knee-deep, crusted snow, had enough slope to make hand-holds (willows) almost necessary and very convenient. The moose fell where he stood on a slightly sloping area on what was otherwise much steeper. After I got up the near vertical section at the bottom, I was making 5-10 steps through that snow, having to stop and suck air after every short interval. Just making the 100-yard trek too some time. And while the little 600-700 pound bull was exactly what I would have ordered if I could have, even the little guys give a single fellow a workout in getting the skinning and dressing done. So by the time I had him naked and dismembered, I was starting to think I might need to make another 36 mile round trip in the morning. Dragging the rear quarters/pelvis down the hill - three steps at a time- (I was counting on a bit more help from gravity; I guess it was tired that late in the day ) but that sealed the deal. With night falling, and about a dozen miles of somewhat obscure trail crossing largely brown tundra, I decided that coming back with the kids' sled the next day was probably the smarter thing to do. And as it turned out, the trail I had dragged with those hindquarters had set up hard and slick as I hoped it would. The ribs, back, and neck, wrapped up in a heavy blue tarp, slid down the hill much more easily than I expected; the front legs on the boys' sled were much the same. Only three trips - and I got there before the ravens had time to crap all over everything - though they were floating overhead as the day was just getting bright.

This was the 7th moose I've done solo that I can recall, the 5th in winter; a couple more involved the help of 6 or 8 year-olds. I'm not so sure that these kinds of activities are prescribed as healthy pursuits for late middle-aged guys. I sure hate to think I can't 'go-it-alone' anymore, but the body is the boss I suppose, even if the contents of one's noggin have plenty of stubborn Scandic traits in them.

And Happy 50th BTW - hope it's a good one with many years of enjoyable pursuits left in front of you!

Don't knock it! I tried it this year, solo, at age 66. 30 yard shot, flat level ground from the snow machine.

It still busted my butt!

I GPSed the spot for next year......