I had one run across the road in front of me once on a winter caribou hunt. Season was open and I grabbed my rifle and bailed out. Gone like a ghost into the puckerbrush, never glimpsed him again.
Had a buddy who killed one with his 44 revolver one time. He was sitting in a lawn chair nursing the effects of the night before’s celebration after killing a moose. Wolverine sauntered right up into camp and he snatched his pistol out of the holster hanging on the back of the chair and let him have it. Talk about luck.
