Remington725,
Sounds like you have a good long season to hunt em. I heard somewhere you had a big birthday if you're gonna hunt moose at your age you've earned it. My one and only moose I was in my 20's and 3\4 of mile from a road. My dad was in his early 50's said "son what's wrong with you". Harvested with his 3030 he said "that gun's to small for moose hunting". I loved rifle back then and said "I could shoot an elephant with this".
I remember removing the guts, I took her left hind hind leg proped it behind an alder. Made the first incision the leg came off the alder and hit me in back of head. I said "well this isn't a deer" It was a really big day, fun all over after "bang".
My Lord was I that unintelligent?
After living through that experience and now being just a few years your junior. Sounds like you have an adventure coming up.
Best of luck to you sir.
Good luck and shoot straight y'all
Yeah, I have a big birthday with a zero four days after the last day of the rifle season--which is over two months from now, so no big rush. Plus, there's a 9-day "traditional muzzleloader season" in the middle of December.
I've had plenty of not-so-fun moose experiences already. My first was a good-sized Alaskan bull that was standing on top of the high bank of a med-sized salmon river, probably 50 yards from the water. Shot it through the top of the heart (as it turned out) with my .338 Winchester Magnum and a 230-grain Winchester Fail Safe. The bull stood up on its hind legs, then fell over backward, rolling down the bank onto the wide gravel bar below. Thought it was all over--but then the bull suddenly got up and staggered into the river, whereupon the guide shouted, "Don't shoot him in the water!"
So I didn't, even though the water was only ankle deer right there. But the moose kept floundering across the river, which of course got deeper, and died in the deepest part of the channel. The only thing visible was the tip of one antler tine.
I grabbed the bowline of the guide's jet-boat, then waded out there in my hip boots and managed to get a loop around the antler. We towed it with the boat downstream to a shallower riffle, then spent the next five hours taking the bull apart from the top down. Every time we got a good chunk off, we'd grab the antlers and jerk the bull a few more inches toward the shore. This was early September and we spent the entire time in a cloud of mosquitoes.
Toward the end, the guide said, "Every time something like this happens I swear I'm never going moose hunting again--but after a few years forget!"
