Home Forums Miscellaneous Topics Humor, Jokes, and Riddles Huntin' with Gunwriters - Conclusion

Huntin’ with Gunwriters - Part 9
copyright 2004 - Stephen Redgwell

So, after the first three days, it was two moose for the guides and none for the payin’ guests. I’ll tell you about the rifles and ammunition in a bit, but first, Ken and Joe. What happened to them was kinda funny.

Ken and Joe worked the edge of a pond, that was formed by beavers. Them rodents had built a dam and trapped the water there. Their lodge was on one end of a stream and they flooded an area about the size of a football field. It was cold, but the water wasn’t frozen and there was still lots for them moose to eat. If you ever seen a moose feedin’ in a pond, you’d be amazed at the way they just wander around, munchin’ on them water plants. They look goofy.

When you hunt over a flooded area, you gotta be careful that the moose don’t run into the water if your shot’s not good. We all dragged one or two out of the freezing muck, and let me tell you, it ain’t fun.



Earlier in the year, Joe put down these logs around the water’s edge. They was there for to sit on and to give a person a comfortable, hidden place to peer across the marsh. Them logs was all around the pond, nestled in alder bushes or bulrushes, so you could pick one out according to the wind direction. You got a real good view and be hidden at the same time. The whole idea was, if you seen a moose comin’ towards the pond on the other side, you could take your shot from a concealed spot. All things bein’ equal, the moose would turn away from the water and try workin’ his way up a small rise and into the bush. The distance was only about seventy five yards maybe, and so you’d just walk around the water and collect your animal. We all done it and they say simple is best.

On the morning of the fifth day, them two got set up before sunrise, perched against a log in the alders. They waited for about an hour and a half. The sun was comin’ up and they could start seein’ the other side. This moose come slowly out of some pines, not really carin’ about anything. He was goin’ down for breakfast in that beaver pond and takin’ his sweet time gettin’ there. Later on, Ken joked about that. He said that the moose probably had a reservation and wasn’t worried about gettin’ a table!

The other side of the pond had a few trees and bushes. The light wasn’t quite perfect yet, so they had to wait until the moose presented himself as a good target. Every time that Ken thought he had a shot, he’d slowly inch himself forward, bringin’ the rifle up to his shoulder. He’d look down the sights, but stop, ‘cause the picture wasn’t right yet. According to Joe, he must have done that about a dozen times.

When they first seen the moose, it was about a hundred and fifty yards away. It bein’ in the trees though, they both knew that they’d have to wait until he got closer. So, Ken’s watchin’ and shiftin’ forwards. At about a hundred yards, the moose turns a bit, givin’ him an almost perfect broadside shot. One of them boiler room specials you read about. One more slight adjustment and Ken would let loose. Well yes, except that the final little adjustment put him over the edge of the bank and straight into the water!

That was strike three!

Now that moose, he just looked in the direction of the noise. He didn’t run, which surprised Joe. Maybe he thought that a beaver dove in or something. Anyways, with Ken safely out of the way, Joe fired his 303, takin’ the moose with a nice broadside shot. The moose bolted. Joe reached down and helped Ken out of the ice cold water and said that the shot was good.

With Ken sittin’ on the log, shakin’ from the cold, Joe pointed out that the moose was down and they could both see it out in the open. I won’t bore you with the rest.

Final tally. Local boys 3. Guests 0.



I should point out that it wasn’t their fault they wasn’t successful. Elmer got the ammunition problem worked out by borrowin’ some of Ken’s. Jack fixed his sight and Ken dried off and got warm. Trouble was, for a week after, nobody saw nothin’. We’d pretty much taken all the moose from around there and, short of a miracle, they weren’t getting’ any.

I was disappointed. Not only did them gun writers have opportunities and miss, but they wouldn’t have a story for their magazines. Although they never said nothin’, the three of ‘em must have felt awful about the way things turned out too.

Then came their salvation - for the magazine stories anyway. At the end of the second week, Charlie Cootz visited the camp and proposed a solution.

Huntin’ with Gunwriters - Part 10
copyright 2004 - Stephen Redgwell

Their trip was almost over and them Yanks didn’t have anything to show for it, much less write about. Charlie was the answer to their prayers. At least, that's what he thought. In reality, them writers was actually an answer to Charlie’s prayers.

Charlie was the chief cook and bottle washer of Cootz Trophy Rentals Inc. About three or four years previous, he come upon an idea that made him a lot of money. It happened like this.

Charlie wanted to be a taxidermist. After graduatin’ 'Sinew Cum Laude' from the Seemyville International School of Professional Taxidermy, he set up shop and started into business. At first, he done mounts to decorate the store and to show off his talents. Everybody thought they was beautiful, but nobody used the service. If it hadn’t been for his wife Etta, they woulda starved to death. She worked as a photographer at the local paper.

Business was real slow and about six months after openin’, huntin’ season arrived. Charlie locked the doors and took off into the bush after a moose. Within a day or two, he got his bull. As he was bringin’ it out to the road, fate intervened.

Four hunters from the big city seen Charlie and his son draggin’ the carcass out to the truck. Everybody started talkin’ and it wasn’t long before them city boys asked if he’d mind takin’ some pictures of them with his moose. They even offered him twenty bucks! Done!

Just like in the cartoons, the light bulb came on. If them fellows was willin’ to pay for pictures, then there must be other unsuccessful, big city hunters that would gladly fork over some cash for the same deal. It saved them the embarrassment of goin’ home skunked and provided proof to unbelievin’ friends.

Anyway, I didn’t think that Charlie showin’ up at camp was a random act of chance. He could always smell a buck.

“Hi Charlie. What brings you up here?” As if I didn’t know.

“Jeez Al, you’re hidin’ some famous folks inside. I came to meet ‘em and offer everybody a tour of my taxidermicological emporium.” He was up to somethin’...

“I seen it.” But didn’t expect that would stop him.

“Not you. Them guys.” And he pointed at Elmer, Jack and Ken and said, “Would you gentlemen care to partake of one of the area’s most famous landmarks? It’s known far and wide. From Mouche Noir to Seemyville!” Charlie was really layin’ it on.

Jack spoke for the group. Maybe he was bored. Maybe he was bein’ mischievous. Surely he couldn’t be serious! “We’d be delighted!” The other two just rolled their eyes. “We were all hoping to see your work Charlie. In fact, it was Elmer that INSISTED we take some time to go. He’s heard of you. Didn’t you say that Elmer?”

Elmer tossed Jack one of those ‘Why me?’ looks and said, “Well, if you say so Jack...”

“Of course I say so! You shouldn’t be so modest Elmer. Do you think that he’s being too modest Ken?” And shot Ken a long glance.

Ken was momentarily lost for words. “Well Jack. Elmer’s not one to be a show off... I think that we should go. It would be impolite to turn down Charlie’s invitation after he’s come all this way...”

With that, Charlie grinned and told everybody that he would take some pictures of their tour and give each man a few FOR FREE as a token of his respect for their work. He suggested a two o’clock rendezvous and left for town.

Them writers was havin’ a heated discussion. Jack was laughin’, but the other two was quietly arguin’. I done my best to help things by sayin’, “We don’t have to stay long you know. The shop ain’t that big. Anyways, he does good work. At least you can see what kinds of animals we got around here.”

Ken just shrugged his shoulders and said, “Okay Al. It’s too late anyway. Heck, we might as well see some of the local sights.”

Elmer was less enthralled. “There’s something strange about that guy.” he said. “He kept starin’ at me and it gave me the willies!”

After lunch, we hitched up the horses and rode to town. It took about about two hours and nobody said much the whole way.

When we got there, Charlie had the entire front porch decorated with mounts and laid out some of his big pieces on the front lawn. As we rode in, he come runnin’ out, wavin’ and smilin’. “Welcome! Welcome to Cootz Trophy Rentals Inc.! I’m so glad you came!”

“Okay Charlie. “ I said, “We’re here. We gotta be back for dark, so get on with it.”

Charlie took them guys around, showin’ off all his mounts. He game them a brief history of the shop. Each got a cap with the store name sown onto the front. But he saved the big finish for last.


Charlie, blowin' a moose call

Around the back, we were all amazed by the sight of a full buffalo, grizzly bear and mountain goat mount, lookin’ like they was lyin’ peacefully in the grass! There was also moose, black bears and some nice lookin’ whitetails. Charlie read my mind and offered an explanation. “My brother in law lives out west. He sent me some of them critters and I stuffed ‘em! I’d like it very much if you writer fellows would pose beside a few. I’d love to have some shots for my photo album.”

So they each took up a spot by an animal. Charlie called to his wife Etta, who came out with a camera and some rifles. She placed one on each of the mounts and said, “Smile you guys! Pretend you just shot him!” And she started snappin’ pictures.

Then she got them all to pose by a bull moose with the largest rack any of them writers had seen outside of Alaska. “Well, Jack is enjoyin’ it. Come on Elmer! You too Ken. I want to see some teeth!” Etta was workin’ hard to get just the pictures she wanted.

I couldn’t help myself and started to laugh! For all the world it looked like they come to Northern Ontario for trophy buffalo and grizzly! I could see the headlines now. Nerly Corners, Ontario - home of the big ones!

For about an hour they posed, holdin’ rifles and lookin’ like it was a hard but successful hunt. I guess towards the end, them writers was enjoyin’ it too. After they was done, we got back on our horses and headed back to camp. On the way, Ken said, “I can’t wait until my friends see the pictures of my ‘big buffalo hunt’ in Northern Ontario! What a hoot!”

A few days later, we packed up and we got them back to the train in Geraldton. They thanked us for an exciting trip and promised they’d be back. They kept that promise for many years afterwards.

And what about the pictures? Well, within a few days, they appeared in the local paper. Then they made the circuit with some of the big Canadian newspapers and huntin’ magazines. The images even made it to Europe where they was seen by rich, big game hunters from England, Germany and other places. It made Charlie richer and got me more bookings than I could handle.

Was it honest? Well, nowhere did it say that them guys shot those critters here. Jack used his free pictures in an article he sold to a big American huntin’ magazine. Heck, he never said that he shot ‘em. He just showed the folks some nice pictures. Like Jack told me years later, “Imagination is a wonderful thing, Al. Most people don’t have enough of it, so this is what I imagined they’d like to see.”

I imagine writers haven’t changed much since then!

Great story. Enjoyed every bit of it.

Got any more?

Thanks. I post some here from time to time.