sn.outdoors
WKR
Cory and I were feeling pretty good about day six since we'd already seen more animals in the last 24hrs than I'd seen the first 72 combined. I also decided to make a rifle change. I switched to my old, trusty .257wby. The rifle I carried the first few days had gotten soaked and I just wasn't positive how well the bore had been protected. Plus my weatherby has been nothing but a killing machine. It's never let me down, and I wasn't expecting any far shot opportunities.
We set the alarms extra early, and ended up beating the sun to our spot by more than an hour. I let out a few long cow calls in hopes a bull somewhere nearby in the thick woods would hear us and step out for a peak, but by the time 11 o'clock rolled around we'd seen zero animals. We decided to head back to camp for lunch and go to The Hill for the evening sit.
As we were eating lunch and talking about the plan, we had a change of heart. We figured our best bet of seeing some action would be to sit along the creek for a few more days. There was more fresh bear sign down there and more moose sign all together. I would have gladly shot any bear that decided to step out. So we loaded into the truck and drove the increasingly sloppy road back down to the bottom.
When we got to the bottom we saw Dan Everson, the outfitter I spoke with in June, tending his horses and mules. So I figured I say hi and let him know how things were going. He was glad to see I hadn't given up on the unit. It's not everyday that a guide or outfitter offers free advice on an area, but he basically reaffirmed what I had already known. The unit was tough, the moose were in very few numbers, and that I was hunting in the best spots the unit had to offer... (That didn't mean they were "good" spots)
According to Dan, (and all of the physical sign) The Hill was a better late season spot, since it's a wintering area for the moose. He said they'll pass through there through all year, but it gets better later in the season. The tips and insight Dan and his guide Jeff gave me were extremely helpful in solidifying my expectations. I knew I had to continue to be patient, and keep putting in my time. It would happen eventually, and if it didn't I could always put in for a tag again next year.
After shooting the breeze for a little while Dan offered to let us come down to his camp for a hot meal, and a shower... IDK if it was because we smelled bad enough for him to feel bad for us or if he thought we were genuinely nice guys, but we gladly accepted his invite and told him we'd see him later that night.
---
We headed down the trail and decided to head further down than we had the night before just to explore some new country. The further up the creek we went, the less sign there was. The terrain choked in on the creek and visibility through the brush decreased to just a few yards. We decided to head back to the spot we saw the bear.
It was turning out to be just like all of the days before... uneventful. The wind was picking up and it didn't seem like things were moving much. So we started making our plans for the next day. Just as the sun was hitting the top of the mountain Cory pointed and said, "what's that?"
I turned and saw what appeared to be a large log poking out of the grass and overhanging a small bog. I didn't remember seeing that particular log before. So I stared at it for a few seconds baffled, before I pulled up my binos.
HOLY CRAP!!! It was a bull moose... just standing there! 200yds away!!! I imagined a moose would have been easier to pick out in that grass, but he was tough to see even with binos.
Just like on my mule deer hunt last year with Cory, I looked at him and said, "it's a bull. I'm shooting it."
At this point all logical thought left my mind. Remember after my elk hunt how I said I do a really good job of keeping a cool and level head in the heat of the moment? Well that all went out the window in this moment. I grabbed my weatherby and beat feet down to the bull. I don't know why I ran, or really why I did any of what I did, but the next thing I remember is looking through the scope at the bull and seeing a droptine.
It was happening! It felt like my mind was in some kind of third person state of being. I was in the moment, but it felt as though I had no control over my body.
The bull turned broadside and came up out of the bog, and all I remember was thinking I needed to shoot for the lungs because I was shooting a small caliber rifle. As soon as my crosshair found its mark, the rifle went off. I nailed him! I'll never forget the huge shockwave of water that sprayed off his hide after my tiny little bullet, going somewhere in the neighborhood of 3400fps, struck the side of that massive beast. Since he was still on his feet, quartered to me, I racked another round into the chamber and put in into his onside shoulder. After the second shot, he did a backflip and landed in the beaver pond he just come out of. After all of the commotion of me running, and the massive animal splashing into the water, the woods fell silent.
HE WAS DEAD!
Sent from my XT1254 using Tapatalk
We set the alarms extra early, and ended up beating the sun to our spot by more than an hour. I let out a few long cow calls in hopes a bull somewhere nearby in the thick woods would hear us and step out for a peak, but by the time 11 o'clock rolled around we'd seen zero animals. We decided to head back to camp for lunch and go to The Hill for the evening sit.
As we were eating lunch and talking about the plan, we had a change of heart. We figured our best bet of seeing some action would be to sit along the creek for a few more days. There was more fresh bear sign down there and more moose sign all together. I would have gladly shot any bear that decided to step out. So we loaded into the truck and drove the increasingly sloppy road back down to the bottom.
When we got to the bottom we saw Dan Everson, the outfitter I spoke with in June, tending his horses and mules. So I figured I say hi and let him know how things were going. He was glad to see I hadn't given up on the unit. It's not everyday that a guide or outfitter offers free advice on an area, but he basically reaffirmed what I had already known. The unit was tough, the moose were in very few numbers, and that I was hunting in the best spots the unit had to offer... (That didn't mean they were "good" spots)
According to Dan, (and all of the physical sign) The Hill was a better late season spot, since it's a wintering area for the moose. He said they'll pass through there through all year, but it gets better later in the season. The tips and insight Dan and his guide Jeff gave me were extremely helpful in solidifying my expectations. I knew I had to continue to be patient, and keep putting in my time. It would happen eventually, and if it didn't I could always put in for a tag again next year.
After shooting the breeze for a little while Dan offered to let us come down to his camp for a hot meal, and a shower... IDK if it was because we smelled bad enough for him to feel bad for us or if he thought we were genuinely nice guys, but we gladly accepted his invite and told him we'd see him later that night.
---
We headed down the trail and decided to head further down than we had the night before just to explore some new country. The further up the creek we went, the less sign there was. The terrain choked in on the creek and visibility through the brush decreased to just a few yards. We decided to head back to the spot we saw the bear.
It was turning out to be just like all of the days before... uneventful. The wind was picking up and it didn't seem like things were moving much. So we started making our plans for the next day. Just as the sun was hitting the top of the mountain Cory pointed and said, "what's that?"
I turned and saw what appeared to be a large log poking out of the grass and overhanging a small bog. I didn't remember seeing that particular log before. So I stared at it for a few seconds baffled, before I pulled up my binos.
HOLY CRAP!!! It was a bull moose... just standing there! 200yds away!!! I imagined a moose would have been easier to pick out in that grass, but he was tough to see even with binos.
Just like on my mule deer hunt last year with Cory, I looked at him and said, "it's a bull. I'm shooting it."
At this point all logical thought left my mind. Remember after my elk hunt how I said I do a really good job of keeping a cool and level head in the heat of the moment? Well that all went out the window in this moment. I grabbed my weatherby and beat feet down to the bull. I don't know why I ran, or really why I did any of what I did, but the next thing I remember is looking through the scope at the bull and seeing a droptine.
It was happening! It felt like my mind was in some kind of third person state of being. I was in the moment, but it felt as though I had no control over my body.
The bull turned broadside and came up out of the bog, and all I remember was thinking I needed to shoot for the lungs because I was shooting a small caliber rifle. As soon as my crosshair found its mark, the rifle went off. I nailed him! I'll never forget the huge shockwave of water that sprayed off his hide after my tiny little bullet, going somewhere in the neighborhood of 3400fps, struck the side of that massive beast. Since he was still on his feet, quartered to me, I racked another round into the chamber and put in into his onside shoulder. After the second shot, he did a backflip and landed in the beaver pond he just come out of. After all of the commotion of me running, and the massive animal splashing into the water, the woods fell silent.
HE WAS DEAD!
Sent from my XT1254 using Tapatalk