Maineiac
FNG
During turkey season my friend from back home called and asked if I’d be willing to be his subpermittee on a moose hunt. I was excited but we both understood it would be 5-10 years until this came to be.
In a few short months I get a text asking for a call. We drew a cow tag for zone 5! I know cows aren’t bulls but the chance to hunt with an old college teammate, and fishing partner was all the motivation I needed.
My roommate from junior year at college (Unity College) is a a moose guide in zone two and has spent lots of time in zone five. He was so kind as to give us some places to scout.
My hunting partner spent some time up in the area and said the areas were all productive, and his wife who uses her dogs to track wounded deer, bear and moose mentioned that the areas we were in seemed to be productive. She’d been up there the first season and recovered with her little dog Aldo the biggest moose of the season in zone 5 (1048 lb bull).
I flew to Boston from Oregon and he came down to pick me up, for folks like us that don’t frequent the cities Boston is insane. We’re still not sure how he happened to wind up at my arrival zone but I happened w/o a problem. We loaded up and headed north to Millinocket where we’d spend the night in his ice shack that he loaded into his trailer. Did I mention we’re both from Maine, one of the characteristics of folks from our way is we seem to be frugal or more accurately Frugal. The ice shack was small, barely suitable for two folks but it was free and easy to deal with.
We scouted Sunday and most areas we didn’t walk in to because of the quantity and freshness of the sign. Fired up some lobster rolls for dinner and had a small fire in the gravel pit we were calling home.
Opening morning would be more aptly described as opening late night, as neither of us really slept in the 20ish degree night, rather tossed and turned and tried to remain silent so the other person could sleep. At about 4am he rolls over and says, “You awake?” and I reply in the affirmative. He concedes that the traffic on the road is making him nervous and that we should just get to going. So, in the predawn stupor we make hear your some burritos and drive to our point of entry.
About 2 hours after our arrival we make the decision to make final preparations and start the walk into a winter road that looked the best. One vehicle came behind us as we started our walk, no doubt they’d positioned themselves at the beginning of the spur and thought they had claimed it as theirs not realizing we’d already driven down and parked nearly a mile in front of them long before they’d arrived. They were kind enough to flip around and move on to their back up spot w/o any problems.
The walk was filled with fresh sign and optimism, as opening mornings often are. The first few winter roads looked great but produced no results, they weren’t our destination anyhow. It would have been a bonus to see one there and wasn’t out of the realm of possibility but, nonetheless the moose were elsewhere.
By the time we hit the third winter road we were ver my excited. Fresh warm poop, fresh tracks and great looking habitat were the fuel for our excitement. My friend started down a moose path into the winter road and didn’t even make it 10 steps before whisper screaming “MOOSE!” After some observation we determined the brown figure about 435 yards away was a juvenile bull with paddles so small it took serious observation to identify. He walked from our right to left across the road and into the swamp.
Both of us decided we should find a better view and wait to see if a cow was near by. With a minimum of walking I spotted a cow. My friend is shorter than me and could not see over the head high raspberries. We confirmed it’s gender and stood shoulder to shoulder as it had its flank facing us.
After a brief discussion I began a count down that culminated at the number three, at that point we both let fly with our scoped .308 Remington 7600’s. The moose was mortally wounded after the volley but reluctant to return to the earth. I asked my friend to crawl forward to put the finish on her. His brain was afire and he simply said “no.” I crawled forward and put the last few rounds into her chest to give her the relief she was seeking. Our journey to a dead moose which started in turkey season was over within the first two hours of opening day. We too some snap shots, and began the process of breaking her down in a swamp.
He took the first load out as I stayed and continued to break her down. It’s a trick breaking down such a big animal solo, I’m glad he came back. The honk quarters were big by my blacktail/Roosevelt standards. But we managed to detach all the meat and grab the heart before exiting the area.
A short 400 yard pack out was all that was required as he had driven the truck up to the top of the winter road. A few trips later and some impromptu ovary removal, with the great help of DFW guide book, and we were wrapped up. Back at camp after phone calls by 12:30!
We processed her at his place on Wednesday after spending Monday evening with some rowdy friends from the north Maine woods. It took 9 hours for us to get her all done up. But, man what a feeling! He and his wife offered me half the moose early on in our discussion of the hunt back in April but it was just too expensive to fly all that meat, or maybe I’m just too cheap, likely the second option.
We were able to spend some time visiting with family in Lewiston after the psycho shot up a bowling alley with my uncle in it and a restaurant with employees of the family business. The town was weird (Lewiston always is but much more so with an active manhunt and orders to remain sheltered in place).
We were unable to see my old roommate because he was down in Lewiston as part of his position with a police department. His spot has panned out perfectly, not sure how to repay that favor from Oregon to Maine.
Also ventured into the ocean off of cape cod with my hunting partner and a different college friend. We caught our limit of Tautog along with some bluefish, and some other incidentals I couldn’t imagine a trip being more loved than I loved this trip. Old friends doing what we used to do, family at a time of crisis, fishing and fall in Maine. To top it all off a wife willing to deal with our four kids without a single complaint for the duration of my trip. I don’t think it will all come together like that ever again, I already cherish these memories. Thanks for reading this far. I’ll try to figure out pics so you can see the places, the ice shack, the moose and the fish. They all make the trip so unique!
In a few short months I get a text asking for a call. We drew a cow tag for zone 5! I know cows aren’t bulls but the chance to hunt with an old college teammate, and fishing partner was all the motivation I needed.
My roommate from junior year at college (Unity College) is a a moose guide in zone two and has spent lots of time in zone five. He was so kind as to give us some places to scout.
My hunting partner spent some time up in the area and said the areas were all productive, and his wife who uses her dogs to track wounded deer, bear and moose mentioned that the areas we were in seemed to be productive. She’d been up there the first season and recovered with her little dog Aldo the biggest moose of the season in zone 5 (1048 lb bull).
I flew to Boston from Oregon and he came down to pick me up, for folks like us that don’t frequent the cities Boston is insane. We’re still not sure how he happened to wind up at my arrival zone but I happened w/o a problem. We loaded up and headed north to Millinocket where we’d spend the night in his ice shack that he loaded into his trailer. Did I mention we’re both from Maine, one of the characteristics of folks from our way is we seem to be frugal or more accurately Frugal. The ice shack was small, barely suitable for two folks but it was free and easy to deal with.
We scouted Sunday and most areas we didn’t walk in to because of the quantity and freshness of the sign. Fired up some lobster rolls for dinner and had a small fire in the gravel pit we were calling home.
Opening morning would be more aptly described as opening late night, as neither of us really slept in the 20ish degree night, rather tossed and turned and tried to remain silent so the other person could sleep. At about 4am he rolls over and says, “You awake?” and I reply in the affirmative. He concedes that the traffic on the road is making him nervous and that we should just get to going. So, in the predawn stupor we make hear your some burritos and drive to our point of entry.
About 2 hours after our arrival we make the decision to make final preparations and start the walk into a winter road that looked the best. One vehicle came behind us as we started our walk, no doubt they’d positioned themselves at the beginning of the spur and thought they had claimed it as theirs not realizing we’d already driven down and parked nearly a mile in front of them long before they’d arrived. They were kind enough to flip around and move on to their back up spot w/o any problems.
The walk was filled with fresh sign and optimism, as opening mornings often are. The first few winter roads looked great but produced no results, they weren’t our destination anyhow. It would have been a bonus to see one there and wasn’t out of the realm of possibility but, nonetheless the moose were elsewhere.
By the time we hit the third winter road we were ver my excited. Fresh warm poop, fresh tracks and great looking habitat were the fuel for our excitement. My friend started down a moose path into the winter road and didn’t even make it 10 steps before whisper screaming “MOOSE!” After some observation we determined the brown figure about 435 yards away was a juvenile bull with paddles so small it took serious observation to identify. He walked from our right to left across the road and into the swamp.
Both of us decided we should find a better view and wait to see if a cow was near by. With a minimum of walking I spotted a cow. My friend is shorter than me and could not see over the head high raspberries. We confirmed it’s gender and stood shoulder to shoulder as it had its flank facing us.
After a brief discussion I began a count down that culminated at the number three, at that point we both let fly with our scoped .308 Remington 7600’s. The moose was mortally wounded after the volley but reluctant to return to the earth. I asked my friend to crawl forward to put the finish on her. His brain was afire and he simply said “no.” I crawled forward and put the last few rounds into her chest to give her the relief she was seeking. Our journey to a dead moose which started in turkey season was over within the first two hours of opening day. We too some snap shots, and began the process of breaking her down in a swamp.
He took the first load out as I stayed and continued to break her down. It’s a trick breaking down such a big animal solo, I’m glad he came back. The honk quarters were big by my blacktail/Roosevelt standards. But we managed to detach all the meat and grab the heart before exiting the area.
A short 400 yard pack out was all that was required as he had driven the truck up to the top of the winter road. A few trips later and some impromptu ovary removal, with the great help of DFW guide book, and we were wrapped up. Back at camp after phone calls by 12:30!
We processed her at his place on Wednesday after spending Monday evening with some rowdy friends from the north Maine woods. It took 9 hours for us to get her all done up. But, man what a feeling! He and his wife offered me half the moose early on in our discussion of the hunt back in April but it was just too expensive to fly all that meat, or maybe I’m just too cheap, likely the second option.
We were able to spend some time visiting with family in Lewiston after the psycho shot up a bowling alley with my uncle in it and a restaurant with employees of the family business. The town was weird (Lewiston always is but much more so with an active manhunt and orders to remain sheltered in place).
We were unable to see my old roommate because he was down in Lewiston as part of his position with a police department. His spot has panned out perfectly, not sure how to repay that favor from Oregon to Maine.
Also ventured into the ocean off of cape cod with my hunting partner and a different college friend. We caught our limit of Tautog along with some bluefish, and some other incidentals I couldn’t imagine a trip being more loved than I loved this trip. Old friends doing what we used to do, family at a time of crisis, fishing and fall in Maine. To top it all off a wife willing to deal with our four kids without a single complaint for the duration of my trip. I don’t think it will all come together like that ever again, I already cherish these memories. Thanks for reading this far. I’ll try to figure out pics so you can see the places, the ice shack, the moose and the fish. They all make the trip so unique!
Last edited:
