From the ridge tops looking north.



After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only a few minutes I reached the knoll at the end of the ridge that overlooked the small pass. Out of breath, sweating, my heart beating in my ears and adrenaline doing what it does I tried to pick up the pair of moose again. When I had last seen them they were still headed in the general direction of the pass but there was no guarantee that they would wind up following a trail that led that way. The area I expected them to be moving through was too dense to pick them out but after a few seconds of listening I heard the bull grunting and cooing still obviously hot on the heels of the cow.




Looking back towards camp from the crest of the ridge.




From where it sounded like they were I was fairly confident they would cross the pass and if they did there was a decent chance I’d get a shot at them as long as they weren’t in the heavily brushed bottom. My dilemma was this, I was still too far away for a reasonable shot but to get any closer I had to lose elevation continuing down the ridge. The lower I got the less I could see and the more the tree tops rose up to obscure my vision and shooting lanes. Down the ridge I went as quickly as I could without making too much noise all the while not knowing if I would find an alley where I could see the moose on the adjacent slope or if I would run myself out of terrain and miss them as they crossed the pass and dropped into the creek bottom never to be seen again.

I got as low as I thought I could and found a narrow lane between two large spruce trees that afforded me a decent view of the slope on the other side of the pass. I still hadn’t seen the moose but I could still hear the bull grunting as they came. With my heart in my throat I sat and waited. Again probably mere seconds passed but the time felt measured in hours. With the safety off and rifle at the ready I kept an eye on the narrow lane and soon enough the cow stepped out. I aimed in drew a breath and waited. The field of view I had was narrow and within a step or two the cow was gone. I stayed aimed in and right on cue the bull stepped out broadside and moving quickly. I don’t remember taking the shot as I had no real time to think about it. I had put the crosshairs where they needed to be and had made up my mind that as soon as he stepped out the shot had to go off. And so it went.

I saw him hunch through the scope before he took two quick steps and disappeared from view. I waited and listened. Nothing. The shot had frozen the handful of cows that were now in the open meadow below and the silence was deafening. After a minute or two the cows began to move again and didn’t generally seem to be bothered by anything that had happened.

I left my spot on the right and battled through alder and willow until I reached the bottom of the pass and started picking my way up the other side. Once in the neighborhood of where I thought he should be if he was down I walked in circles for another eternity and was beginning to lose hope. And then, just a few steps from where I had last seen him from the ridge, there he was.

It would be impossible to describe the wave of euphoria that washed over me and I think something to the effect of “no [Bleeeeep!] way” came out of my mouth. I don’t think I was in disbelief that the round had found it’s mark as much as I couldn’t believe it had all come together. There were so many ways that the whole situation could have, should have gone wrong from barely seeing him in the first place to then having him follow the only path that would offer me a shot to then have the shot work out in such a narrow window to get it off. It was an amazing feeling, but one I didn’t have much time to enjoy.





My moose after we all made our way back up the hill.











I squeezed off two quick rounds, a prearranged signal to my other two teammates that meant “moose down” and marked the spot on my GPS, something that I didn’t realize the value of at the time. I fought my way back through the brush and ran up the ridge as quickly as I could. Once back at the 4-wheeler I ran it back to camp as fast as I could reasonably make it go through the relatively rough terrain.

Matt was there and had heard the shots. We exchanged a few quick words but were both feeling the pressure of having a moose down a long ways from camp, with many hours of work to do in what would soon become lightless predator country. I continued downhill from camp to where I thought Tim would be set up but he was nowhere to be found. After a few minutes of looking and listening now with only remnants of light left I opened my mouth to holler Tim’s name and before I could get the word out his rifle cracked in the distance.




Darkness was upon us





I headed in the general direction of the shot and a short time later, now officially dark, I found Tim working his way towards a large set of antlers I could see laying on the ground a short distance beyond.





Returning to gut Tim's moose after bagging and hanging mine






We shared a massive man hug and were both still shaking from adrenaline. Without much ado the elation turned into realization of the enormity of the task that lay ahead. Having been on the go for over 18 hours, already exhausted, with two moose on the ground, at dark in the middle of BFE…

The easy part was over.




(one more installment to go, ill try to keep it brief)