Montana Moose 240

I checked my status the day after the draw and I guess I must have just glazed right over the results, because I was really hoping to draw a bighorn ewe tag (I didn't). But I was just checking my bonus points last night and saw that I didn't have any for moose...went back to the results page and sure enough I drew the MT 240-50 license! Don't know how I read it wrong after waiting for two months for the results!

I'm working up in Alaska until mid-July, and after I get back I'll be spending every free moment reading, scouting (I live up the road in Missoula), and doing everything I can to make sure I don't eat this tag. I've never hunted moose before, and I never expected to be hunting moose in MT (I drew with 1 bonus point). I've got a lot of work to do!

Any advice for a first time moose hunter? Good books? Most of my knowledge about moose comes from my experiences guiding fishing trips and talking to people up in AK. I've started to read through the moose forum here, but I feel like I need a serious crash course in Shiras moose.

Anyways, I just feel incredibly fortunate to have this opportunity and I really want to take advantage of it. Any words of wisdom, encouragement, or insight are much appreciated. I thought about saving myself the application fee this year because the odds are so low--but I guess you never know!

Congrats! PM inbound.

Thanks for the message--I just replied via PM.

also a congratulations and good luck..wish i knew the area and could help you out.

That's been a really tough hunt for a while now. Since 2006 only 6 of the 18 tagholders have killed moose. I'm sure as you know, it's incredibly rough country and the moose habitat is spread out in small pockets. Horses would be a huge advantage to both cover lots of ground in the wilderness area and to help get meat out. The burns provide pretty good wintering forage for them if you're still hunting in November.

Good luck, I'm curious to see how you do with the tag.

Hey Randy,

I'm anticipating an extremely tough hunt, both physically and in terms of finding animals. I hike and hunt the area quite a bit, and have seen tracks/scat/munched up willows, but never actually seen a bull. And, yes, horses are on my wish list! I'm going to try to get in touch with some local outfitters and see what the options are for packing out meat.

'll definitely keep you updated--thanks for the info.

If i had a 240 moose tag i would look at the south side of hwy 12 up lolo creek. I have also seen moose in the back of big creek, but horses are a must to get a bull out of there. Good luck. HUNT

HUNTMAN said:

If i had a 240 moose tag i would look at the south side of hwy 12 up lolo creek. I have also seen moose in the back of big creek, but horses are a must to get a bull out of there. Good luck. HUNT

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The moose boundaries are a little different, all of Lolo creek is in unit 230, not 240.

Mmw- sorry if I was a wet blanket in my first post, I was just nervous you had put in not knowing what you were getting into. It's beautiful country, and I bet you'll have a blast. You'll definitely earn it if you kill one.

Hunt-- 240 excludes the Lolo drainage. Thanks for the tip on Big Creek, though--I'll have to check it out.

Randy--no worries! It is steep and thick country to be sure, and the prospect of putting a bull down back in one of those canyons is pretty overwhelming. I just can't believe how fortunate I am to have this opportunity, and I want to put as much effort as I can into trying to punch this tag. Thanks for your interest, and I'll keep you posted.

Thanks guys.Didnt know that. Learn something new everyday. Best of luck HUNT.

Got my moose Saturday morning on a solo backpack hunt! An incredible experience...thanks to all those on here who helped along the way via PMs, phone calls, etc. I still can't believe it actually came together. Full story and more pictures to follow....

Congratulations ! I'm looking forward to the whole story.

Congrats on the moose!

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The attachment did not work for me either, but regardless congrats on the moose in a tough district. Can't wait to see it and hear the story.

Sorry about that--I think the attachment should work now....

Congrats!!!

That's awesome! That's some unbelievably big country and that's an outstanding accomplishment to get a bull out of there.

Congrats!

Sweet, congrats!

I’ve finally written up my thoughts on my hunt—they aren’t polished, but I wanted to write it all down while it was fresh in my mind. Two warnings—1) It is LONG and embarrassingly self indulgent. I apologize, but I feel like I could have written a lot more. Bear with me. 2) If you live in the area, you’ll probably be able to figure out exactly where I shot my moose. I’m not naming names, but hopefully no one is bothered by my description of the area or the photos that reveal my spot. Given that there are only three tagholders per year, I figure I’m probably not stepping on anyone’s toes. If I am, sorry—shoot me a PM and I’ll see if I can do more to disguise the locale in my prose and pics. Alright, here we go………

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For the past few months, my life has revolved around Montana moose license 240-50. Since drawing this tag, my imagination, my time, my energy, and my pocketbook have been almost entirely dedicated to the pursuit of this animal. I was lucky enough to harvest a beautiful bull last Saturday morning after four days of hunting, but the whole of my experience has been one of the most incredible of my life. In the course of preparing for this season, I’ve enjoyed nearly a dozen hour-long phone calls with total strangers (some of whom I connected with on this forum); engaged in long email correspondences with guides, wildlife professionals, and other hunters; received help from friends both new and old; and spent countless hours hiking and camping in some of the most gorgeous and rugged country in Western Montana. Even now, as I’m all but fully recovered from the soreness in my legs, back, and arms, and as I slowly put away my gear, I remain in a state of utter disbelief at my good fortune to draw this tag and to enjoy the success that I did.

The unit for my hunt consists of a series of steep and rugged canyons running east to west, most of which are headed with at least one high lake. July and August were spent hiking these canyons on long day-trips and overnight backpacks, looking for sign and glassing lakeshores. I didn’t see a single moose all summer (with the exception of one that I saw while training on the local mountain down the street—my photo of that cow landed on the front page of the paper), but I found a few possible spots with some reasonably fresh scat and tracks. Some of these spots I discovered on my own, and some were tips from others that I checked out. In hindsight, I wish I had tallied up all of the scouting miles just for curiosity’s sake—I put many, many miles on my boots and had my camping kit dialed in. I also stopped in local sporting goods stores, taxidermy shops, tack and feed stores, and USFS offices, looking for clues and tips. Literally every single person that I talked to about this tag offered their best assistance, and I felt that most people really went out of their way to make phone calls and give me references to help me along in my hunt.

--The country was so rugged it even managed to wear out my scouting partner.





I also started talking to local outfitters about securing horsepacking services in case I got a bull down at the top of one of the canyons. One of the outfitters with whom I spoke also offered day hunting trips, and he had guided a hunter to a bull in this unit four years prior. We made an arrangement that I would hunt three separate days on horseback with him, which would allow me to day-hunt some areas that would be tough to cover on foot, and if I were to get a bull down while hunting on my own he agreed to pack it out with his horses. I felt relieved to finally have horses lined up for packing duty, and I also had an added boost of confidence knowing that I would have a few days to work with a guide, see some unfamiliar country, and learn more about the area.

The week that the season opened I was in the Bob Marshall hunting for mule deer with a friend from out of state. We weren’t successful, but we had a great hunt and I was glad to have a chance to get into “hunting mode” before I went after my bull. As soon as he got on the plane on Monday afternoon I immediately returned my focus to moose. I was planning to do overnight backpack hunts from Wednesday to Thursday, come back to Missoula for a work commitment on Friday mornings, and then head back out on Friday afternoons for a three day weekend hunt. Repeat as necessary.

Even two days out from my first hunt, I wasn’t quite sure where I would head first, but I had it narrowed down to two areas—one was at the top of the only canyon in the unit with road access, the other was a spot four miles on foot up another canyon. I’d seen good sign in both spots, but I was leaning towards the first because it was a lot more open and there were several different lakes and meadows that I could check out over the course of a few days. On Tuesday morning, the outfitter I’d been talking to called me up and said he’d seen a cow and a calf near one of the lakes in the first spot I was considering. I figured if there was a cow running around, a bull should be in the area (or would be soon), so I decided to head up to a stand I’d picked out (about a 1.5-2 mile hike up from the road) that overlooks a big clearing near where he’d seen the moose.

The view from my stand:



To be con't...

Even if I wasn't seeing moose, it wasn't a bad spot to be for sunrise/sunset:





Wednesday and Thursday were unbelievably hot (high 80s), and I almost didn’t go out because I wouldn’t be able to take care of the meat in that weather—but I figured that it would at least be a scouting opportunity. Once I started making my way up the long forest service road, fires in Idaho began pumping smoke into the canyon, and my disappointment from the head turned to downright despair. Conditions were hardly ideal, and far from pleasant. I hiked in and rolled out my sleeping bag underneath a tree near the overlook where I planned to glass. I spent the afternoon and evening watching my meadow and memorizing distances to prominent stumps and boulders, but saw nothing. Thursday morning turned up more of the same, so I hiked to a nearby lake to see if there was anything hanging around the water. There wasn’t, but on the trail leading away from my meadow, I saw fresh tracks from the cow and the calf—I also saw tracks that looked to be older, but also looked to be from a larger animal. In the afternoon, I headed back to my vehicle and rolled back home.

Smoke coming over the ridge:


Things cooled off on Thursday night, and on Friday I headed south again. It might have been my mind playing tricks on me, but as I wound my way up the canyons it seemed like the fall colors had really popped. I hiked up to the same perch in the rocks where I’d spent Wednesday night, which looked out across the clearing to dark timber on the far side (550+ yards away). The clearing was (in my mind) very moosy-looking and had a small pond in a dark clump of trees. I watched the afternoon sun sink over the ridge, and kept glassing the timber and several clearings across the canyon. I did some cow calling and some raking every half hour to forty-five minutes beginning about two hours before dark (as I had earlier in the week). No signs of life, but it felt good to be out finally, tag and rifle in hand, in huntable conditions. Once it was too dark to see anything, I snuck back to my tarp and made a quick dinner and crawled in my bag. I didn’t make a fire (as I usually like to) because I would be sleeping less than 25 yards from my glassing spot.

My shelter for Friday night:


Saturday morning I woke to the sound of rain on my tarp. The forecast had called for rain all weekend, and I had hoped that the experts would be wrong. Discouraged, I made my coffee from the comfort of my sleeping bag and waited until the last possible moment to throw on my boots, grab my rifle/optics, and creep over to my overlook. At first light I noticed two unfamiliar dark shapes several hundred yards out. For several minutes, I tried to remember what they might have been, but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that these blobs hadn’t been there the night before. As soon as I realized that they were moose—right around shooting light—my heart began pounding. I figured it was the cow and calf, given the disparity in size between the two, but then the larger animal rotated its head and I saw antlers. At that point I couldn’t use my rangefinder (and I could barely use my binoculars) because my whole body was shaking. After a few moments, they took off downhill at a trot. I stopped the bull for a minute or two with a grunt, but a tree obscured my view, and then he took off downhill again. I thought he was gone for good and was beside myself, thinking that I’d just missed out on my opportunity. It was the first bull I’d seen since drawing the tag, and just like that he had disappeared into the timber. I was heartbroken.

I managed to collect my emotions and decided to try to call him in—despite having no evidence to suggest that my calling would elicit any kind of response. I let out one cow call and did some aggressive raking with the scapula. A few minutes minutes later he came charging back like his hair was on fire. He wouldn't stand still so I got to watch him for quite a while, which was endlessly fascinating and also gave me a chance to collect myself. He zigzagged through the clearing, sniffing the air and tossing his head around, then he’d drop his head and sniff the ground like a bloodhound, grunting all the while. Through my binoculars and scope I could see the white of his teeth and gums as he curled his lip up. He wouldn’t go near any of my the objects I had ranged the night before, and I couldn’t get a good range reading when he stopped—my hands were shaking too badly and all of my optics kept fogging up in the weather. Finally, he stopped broadside a little bit beyond a log I'd ranged at 370 yards. I removed the turret cap, dialed in my correction, and locked in behind my rifle. All the time I’d spent practicing field-shots between 300-500 yards this off season gave me every confidence that this was my moment.

The shot felt good. I watched as his back legs gave out from underneath him, and then his front legs buckled almost immediately. He didn’t take a step before he tipped over behind a log. I saw him try to lift his head a few times, but I couldn’t see his body to shoot him again. I felt pretty sure that the first shot was mortal and I was afraid of pushing him into the timber from where he had fallen, but I wanted to make sure that the bull would expire as quickly as possible. I slid down the rocks and quickly picked my way through the deadfall over to where he fell. The first shot had hit him high and just a little bit behind the shoulder, and he was still breathing faintly but was unable to get up as I approached, so I put another bullet into him for good measure. I walked around him for a few minutes and then sat down, just staring in disbelief. I took a few pictures with my phone, but my hands were shaking so badly they didn’t turn out. He was absolutely gorgeous, and his antlers were unlike any I had seen before. I was in complete awe.




To be con't...