TO HECK WITH MOOSE HUNTING

Description

Enjoy this brief look inside the book:

FORGET THE TEA AND FOLLOW THE BOATS.  I love the culture of the Inuits and other natives of the far north, which is why I’m so fond of caribou hunting. The tundra is huge, defying the imagination. There are tens of thousands of lakes, streams and rivers, most of them unnamed. Since I was on a mission to hunt all five subspecies of caribou in North America, I was profoundly excited to hunt the Central Barren Ground  subspecies on Baffin Island. I would be accompanying a large group of hunters and we’d be traveling to our hunting camp 80 miles away – in canoes, and across the Arctic Ocean.  We were told we were the first Caucasians  to hunt the island. As could be imagined, this was a serious adventure. Salamonie Jaw would be our guide since he was the only Inuit who spoke English. Three of us would ride in his canoe. Since some of the guides had never been to the camp before it was imperative that they stay within sight of each other. We headed out in canoes, most powered by 25 hp outboard motors. Salamonie lagged behind and I noted the other canoes were getting farther and farther away. Suddenly he slowed and headed to a pile of rocks. He beached the canoe and I was puzzled. “Salamonie, have you been to the camp before?” I asked. “No,” he answered, “never been there.” He had produced a pot and a bag of tea. “Don’t you think we should follow the boats?”  He looked out at the ocean and saw the disappearing boats  “You right, “he said, “no time for tea.”  We caught up to the other boats. A storm was rolling in and the canoes were no match for the angry ocean   We headed for an island where we’d make camp for the night. Soon we had tents set up, with dozens of rocks holding them down in the gale wind. The sea had calmed by morning. We crawled out of the tents and realized that all the guides and canoes were gone. Unbelievable!  We searched the distant islands with our binocs but saw no sight of them. Had they abandoned us?

I TRIED TO SHOOT COLORADO’S BIGGEST MOOSE.  I had drawn a Colorado moose permit and was ecstatic. Odds of drawing were terrible and I couldn’t believe my luck. The season was only five days and Colorado’s elk season coincided with the moose hunt. I scouted the area prior to the season with my wife and Larry Weishuhn, a famous  deer hunter known as “Mr. Whitetail.”   We were slowly driving the forest roads, noting where the big willow patches were located. “Wait!,” Madonna said, “what’s that in that willow  bottom?” I slammed the brakes on and she said, “Never mind, it’s probably just a shaded bush.” As always, I usually double-checked a possible “sighting.” Most were false alarms. I backed up and was astounded when a giant bull moose slowly waked up a small creek with that rocking, swaggering  motion that big bulls are known for. I was no stranger to moose hunting, having pursued them in Alaska, various parts of Canada and the US. I knew this one was huge. I also knew I’d be hunting him for the 5-day season. With luck he’d remain in the general area, and I had almost no competition. Only one other hunter had a moose tag for the entire unit. I hunted hard the first four days and either called in or spotted 7 bulls. Had I not seen the monster I would have taken one.  When the 5th morning arrived, I had decided that I’d shoot any moose, and I always believed that no hunt is over until it’s over………