Rock doc excellent story. I would love a moose that big. Anyways thanks for the imagination food. Now I won't be able to stop it untill I finally go moose hunting in oct.

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save a salmon eat a bear

I get off shift tomorrow, and a few of us are heading into Redfern Lake on Thurs morn. Good area, we are calling it a fishing trip, but we all have tags for sheep, elk, moose, ect. It's good to get a little taste at the start of the season. It helps ease the hunger pains while waiting for Oct to get here.

The area where we hunt near NE of Chetwynd is typical of that part of BC. Large stands of Aspen, beaver ponds, fairly flat with some steep slopes near rivers and streams. And miles of seismic lines running every which way.

One such area has a main seismic line with others crossing it at various angles. In order to keep things straight and so we can describe our locations we have taken to naming some of the lines and features.

One of my favourites is Line #1. It has everything-beaver ponds, meadows, and marshes

In the fall of 2001, I was hunting Line 1 pretty much steady. Each morning I would arrive about 0530 and hunt until around 1000. It’s return to camp for some food and return at 1600 or so and hunt until dark.

One evening I was working my way down the line to some beaver ponds when a bull moose started grunting in the bush. He kept up until I had to leave because of darkness. The next evening, the same thing happened. And the next

I had never tried calling but by the fourth evening I figured what the hell – nothing to loose. So standing on the line, I grunted a couple of times. He went silent for a while then started again. – only closer. I grunted again but he wouldn’t move. I picked up a good-sized stick and scrapped a large poplar and, deciding to throw caution to the wind, broke the stick across the poplar and threw the pieces in the pond. Did that get a reaction!! He started coming and I dove for cover. Out he came – on the other side of the pond. He was big with a nice set of antlers. I would have shot him-if I could have counted his brow tines. I watched him for at least half an hour and no way could I get a clear look. Finally the light failed and I had to leave him standing there. My final thought was “see you in the morning, bud”.

The next morning at about 0515 I arrive at the intersection of line 1 while my cousin went on to line 2, about 300 yds further along the main line.

We had no sooner shut off his ATV when I started hearing moose in the woods on the other side of the main line. There were bulls grunting, cows moaning, fights, bush breaking. Bedlam. And close.

It was still pitch dark so I just sat and enjoyed. About quarter to six, I very quietly started to get organized. Rifle loaded, daypack on. The moose are still carrying on but a couple of grunting bulls were starting to move toward my cousin.

At about six I moved out on to the main line just in time to see a bull cross the main line. Actually, it was to dark to seem him clearly – more like a shadow. He was grunting steadily and moving toward line 1.

I hustled back to line one and started moving down it. By now it is getting lighter but still pretty dim. I stopped behind some alders at the edge of an opening just in time to see a cow come out on the line. I’m watching her when I noticed something behind her. Just then she bolted into the bush with a nice bull following. Crap!! I figure that was it. Nope. Out she comes again-with the bull on her tail. And a lot closer. This time I could see him poke her with his antlers. She bolted again only this time he stayed out. And looking directly at me. I don’t think he could see me clearly-just a shadow that didn’t belong. He might have thought I was another cow.

Anyway, he started walking toward me. I watched him through the scope on my .300 Win Mag but I couldn’t see the third brow point. He was getting reeeealy close. He stopped and turned his head and there was the point. When I fired I lost him in the recoil and the huge ball of flame that was the muzzle flash (it was still pretty dim but very legal light). I stepped forward and there he was-down and out- just off the line.

After I calmed down I took a couple of picture. I paced the distance of the shot – 19 long ones. I said he was close.

I was just starting to clean him when over at line 2 a small war started. At least that’s what it sound like. Five very fast shots then silence. I turned on my radio and almost immediately my cousin called. I said, “did ja get him?” “Yep”, he says, “ but I’m not sure he’s legal”. “I’ll be right over”, says I.

His bull was legal but the brow palm was bigger than the main palm and the cousin was still messed up with the adrenalin and he couldn’t count.

While I was walking over to see him I heard a shot far off from the east which was the direction another cousin had gone.

We cleaned his moose and walked back to mine to finish cleaning it when we both heard another far off shot only this time from the west where another cousin had gone.

We waited around until 0900 when it became legal to run the ATV and my cousin took off to get the ATV trailer. I was waiting for him to return when the cousin from the east showed up. It turned out he had shot a moose from a tree stand. The moose was directly under him when he shot it with a 7MM Rem Mag at 12 feet - aiming straight down!!!

A while later the west cousin showed up with his son. Yes, you guessed it – he’d shot a fourth bull. His comment was that he’d been hunting for over 40 years and while they’d had 3 bulls down at once, this was the first for four.

We had them all hung, skinned and halved by 8 PM. Long day.

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Mauser98
If It Doesn't Feed, It's Junk

Great story Paul. Thanks for sharing. Having been there, I can picture the spot, I think.



Don

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Silence.....Half light.....was that an ear twitch?

Great story Mauser98 makes me wish I was there. My cousins just got back from the Chetwyn area and tagged two beauties opening morning.

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save a salmon eat a bear

Well, ironically, my high country muley hunt used the wisdom from a number of the recent posts on this board and eventually ended in success! (warning...it's loooong…)

::Hunting Partners – My partner and I have been planning this timberline muley hunt for over a month… I call him the day before we’re supposed to leave, just as he gets back from his goat hunt and he BAILS!! Remembering the posts here…all I could do was laugh! Plan B – I tried to scramble up a partner, (even pm’d someone from here), but on short notice, everyone had other plans. With the recent storms, the 5 hour hike in, alone, was too risky (for this family man). So I decided to head to a different spot that I had scouted out this summer…



Day 1 – The alarm goes off at 1:30am and I’m up like a kid at Christmas as there is fresh white still falling!! With one hour sleep I make the drive and get to my spot just as the darkness fades in the eastern sky. I’m in my spot and psyched! I am finally able to make out two deer bedded below my cliff top perch in the park-like openings. I break out my spotting scope and confirm that they are does (which is awesome, I thought there were only bucks in this nasty canyon and now I can hunt here in the rut!!) They eventually start to move and I make out a group of 4 more about 400 yards below me… then a buck… and another buck! I watch them in the spotter and there’s a 3x2 and a 4x3 about 24” wide, but with crab claw front forks. This place is better than I imagined…I watch them for an hour and another little 2x checks out the does. They boys are horney but the girls will have nothing to do with them …Here's the lil' 2x3 through the spotter:
…

After the sun breaks the horizon, I move to the north side of the canyon, check out the adjacent drainage and find a perfect vantage, behind a monarch of an old tree. After an hour, all of the deer start heading to this side to bed in the cliffs and dark timber. The sun is out, but the wind is howling and body parts are freezing, sitting in the snow… I pick my head up and I see a huge body about 300 yard below me… I scramble to get the spotter on him and it’s a 4x4 with good forks in the sage clearing below… I slip on the steep snow and when I finally get a good rest he’s disappeared and I can’t find him in my scope I dub him "Houdini" Here's a rough pic through the spotter at 400 yards - you can make out his right antler...

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“Beware the man with one rifle. He may not have enough interest in it to be competent.”
Mike Venturino


CSSA Member

::Tracking in the snow - I head back to the truck about noon, grab some food and head to the adjacent canyon to attempt to glass the north side, where all of the deer bedded. I find a good buck track but it’s heading into a hell hole (of coarse I have to follow it!) Dana’s words about tracking bucks echo in my head as he heads into the cliffs, beds and then heads into the bowels of the treacherous canyon. I find some massive rubs and I learned a lot in his tracks! Eventually, I return to the tree to see if I can catch them at dusk, but only see the 3x and some does... A great first day for plan B... !!!
…


Day 2 – After some seriously needed rest in my camperiezed canopy, I’m cresting the cliffs above the canyon. I debate about sitting at my original vantage, where the early morning action was, or at the tree where I will catch them heading to their beds (where I saw Houdini) I waffle, but end up at the tree as the sky lights up.


::Buck Fever - I catch a sillouette of a buck crossing an opening 400 yards below me, but it’s still too dark and he disappears when he hits the bush, but it’s fairly open there and I think he’ll be there once it’s light. I scan over below my original spot and a HUGE bodied deer jolts me to attention. I quickly find him in the spotter, but his head is in the branches of a big fir tree. He’s about 450 yards down and I need to confirm his size before I find him in the scope. After about a minute of rubbing, he pulls his head down and I feel a rush of adrenaline surge through my veins. I’m almost hyper-ventalating as I scramble for my rifle as he walks behind the tree. This is the biggest buck I have ever seen in my life – he has unbelieveable mass (his antlers look like dark brown baseball bats, even from this distance) wide with deep typical forks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He is heading down into the bowels of the canyon, but I quickly do a series of loud grunts and he turns and pauses, but is mostly obscured by the branches. He stands for about a minute and then disappears into the abyss… Grampa is on steroids!! I’m now spoiled for life (but this is my last chance to hunt this year – hopefully he’ll survive the winter)… I try to glass again, but I'm still wired...

I find the first buck again about 30 minutes later and he has fed up in the bush below me. He was a decent 4x4 (before I saw Grampa) but I quickly find him in my scope (not making that mistake again) but I waffle and he feeds just out of site. I’m momentarily mezmorized as the sun peeks over the horizon (life is good!)… (continued) …



::The Pleasure & the Pain… I watch for that 4x4 below me and some does feed into view, but he doesn’t stick his head up again. I am hoping to see Houdini and continually scour that area. I keep scanning back to where Grandpa disappeared, and see some does, but no sign of him. He’s heading into his sanctuary when the others are just coming out into the open…

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“Beware the man with one rifle. He may not have enough interest in it to be competent.”
Mike Venturino


CSSA Member

I’m scan to the left towards the timber where they bedded yesterday and there’s a huge bodied deer 100 yards below me, staring right at me – it’s him - Houdini!!! Not this time….I ease back from view and grab my rifle…. he’s moving across the opening below my cliff and I want him in the middle before I shoot, so there there will be no magical escape…. After a minute I ease up and he’s still coming….a minute later I ease up again and I can’t find him…in a bit of a panic, I stand up and peek over the edge and there he is coming up my cliff ~70 yards below me…. AHA! He freezes, quartering towards me, fixed on my position hoping he’s invisible (guess he forgot the magic words…) I quickly shoulder my rifle and hold just in front of his near shoulder and squeeze one off. He drops at the shot and tumbles down about 30 yards stopping in the sage…he struggles to get up, but it’s quickly over. I say thankyou and bless him on his way… YEEESSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I ate some food, shed all except my Port-a-Pack, head on down, prepared for the pain to come! He’s a beautiful buck with a huge body!! I completely deboned him, packed him up the *$%#*!! cliff in two loads and then up to the truck on top in one HUGE load with the meat, head and my day pack…I shot him at about 7:30am and was back in my truck by about 4:30pm – utterly exhausted – but satisfied! Can't wait to do it again!!!!!

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“Beware the man with one rifle. He may not have enough interest in it to be competent.”
Mike Venturino


CSSA Member

Great story . You painted that picture perfectly. Good pics too. Did he become a wall mount? Bet you're goin' back for the "Grampa".

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Silence.....Half light.....was that an ear twitch?

It was a few years back that one of my hunting partners started telling a story about this 'huge' mulie buck he had seen on several occassions. Each time he saw this 'ridge runner', as he liked to call him, the buck would step into the trail in front of him, turn his backside, and drop his head and just mosey off! He swore the rack on this deer extended at least a foot on either side of his body and earned him the title of 'ridge runner'. Of course being an ethical hunter he just couldn't bring himself to poopshoot that monster buck!

Now of course, being the mulie hunting fanatic that I am, this story was of great interest to me, particularily since my partner Ron is a very experienced hunter that doesn't tend to embellish his stories. Well to make things even more interesting he began to make hints that 'we should' make a trip down to those rock ridges above the XXXX Ranch and see if we could tag the 'ridge runner'...well being hunters you know exactly what I was thinking at about this time, right? It's something like an uncontrollable itch, the longer you wait the worse it gets. I just had to take him up on this suggestion.

Well the day finally came that we loaded up Rons rig and headed south into 'ridge runner' country, it was a cold November day with the weatherman calling for more snow in the forecast. I was riding shotgun, that in itself being unusual as most times we each take our own rigs on deer hunts, but this time we were on a mission...we had a ridge runner to tag team on!! It would turn out to be a hunt that I will never forget for the rest of my life!!

We took Rons old Ford, with an 8ft Bigfoot mounted on back, gingerly down the sideroad heading directly east towards the Fraser River, angling for the rock ridges above the XXXX Ranch. The road was covered in crusty old snow and there were huge ruts from early season 4x4s going down the old track. Having hunted the area before Ron had a little pull out chosen as our parking spot, well within easy walking distance he swore. After leveling off the rig it was time to quickly put our gear on and make a quick scout of the area. True to his word, we were well within walking distance......and walk we did...we covered the whole area that first afternoon and returned exhausted to camp. Deer sign was everywhere.

The area turned out to be mostly older growth with some old skid trails and smaller selectively logged clearings. Needless to say for the most part it could be described as thick!! To the northeast was a rock ridge that ran for hundreds of yards, when standing high on the ridge you can cleary see the ranch and pastures below, the old road runs parallel with the rock ridge and swings around in a huge loop to the south and returns back to the main road. Picture this if you can, the plan is to concentrate within the area bordered with the rock ridge cliffs to the north, the road on the south, a skid road on the west and a clearing that runs north south from the road to the ridge on the east. The entire area perhaps covering five acres. Our plan is basic, day one: Ron will enter the area from the east end and ghost along the game trails directly towards the cut on the west end, just as he did in the past when he saw the 'ridge runner'. My job will be to proceed, down the road, to the clearing at the west end and take up a position suitable to nail the 'ridge runner' on what we surmised was his escape route!! Are you getting the feel for this situation? My good friend is putting me in position to harvest the deer of a lifetime....what's a buddy for, eh?

Well needless to say I didn't get much sleep that night, even with Ron giving up his overhead bunk to his 'too tall' hunting partner! We awoke early the next morning, well before daylight, to about eight inches of fresh powder snow! The gods were smiling on us, with all the crunching around we did the day before we just knew this was a good omen!! Quickly dispensing with our morning rituals, making coffee and yellow snow, we prepared for the hunt. Everything was in order, and we were ready, the plan was laid, the 'ridge runner' was going to be ours!!

As we left camp we entered another world, one of absolute silence sheathed in a quiet blue that you can only see early on a quiet winter morning. Every noise was muted, the sound of our boots marking the freshly fallen snow hardly descernable. We split up at the east end of our 'hunt zone', Ron slowly proceeding along the skid trail heading northerly towards the rock ridge and me moving down the road and a little faster towards the clearing on the west end. My 300winmag Browning BAR with BOSS and myself heading towards our destiny, a heady feeling let me tell you!! Everything was perfect.

Here I was moving quickly and silently along the roadway, scanning the trees for any signs of movement...checking each fresh deer crossing...intent on finding sign of the 'ridge runner', everything was unworldly..quiet...no wind...no sound...just me, myself, and I...and the mission...the visions of the 'ridge runner' heavy in my imagination. On my leftside the trees, small, perhaps ten feet high were so thick you couldn't see past them, on my right everything was fairly open. In some spots you could see several hundred yards into the trees, beautiful. In a few more steps I would be clear of the thick trees on my left, I was in a hurry to pass them by...the vision of the 'ridge runner' growing more and more with each successive step.

I was past the small screen of trees and swinging my head to the left, there it was the tawny colour, the movement, my Browning smoothly swinging off my shoulder, a practiced movement..my finger finding the safety...the crosshairs quickly finding the target. What's that? A long tail? Its a cougar, a small one, running fast and away from me, my finger checks the safety to ensure it's still engaged and I proceed to reshoulder my firearm. Suddenly from out of nowhere, growling, spine tingling hair standing on end, growling, from behind and to the left of me!! My heart is pounding, the Browning is moving fast..real fast, a blur of speed, get the idea? And there it is obviously the mother to the small cat I had just watched running away, eighteen paces away, ears back, crouching, growling...like I had never heard before. I think that I stopped breathing.

The safety went off on it's own, I don't remember releasing it, my finger was squeezing off...and then it happened. I hesitated...reluctant to shoot the mother animal....to kill needlessly....and leave the young animal to fare on its own. I was sunk, stuck with my own standards in a situation that I had never ever in my wildest dreams imagined being in. What do you do when faced in a standoff with a cougar? Time slows, almost stops, you assess the situation. Can I shoot her before she jumps me? Can this situation end without injury? Man she is close, but she is in the cross hairs, I have three shots loaded and ready to go..the auto can let them all go in a big hurry...I think if she comes at me I will make out OK...now what? Her growls ululate, rising and falling, her head swings side to side..I can clearly see her fangs the laid back ears...the shifting of her feet. Should I shoot? Should I wait and hope for the best? I feel the Browning pressing into my shoulder, my finger tensing on the trigger.

Suddenly she turns and lopes off, directly towards where Ron is heading, and I breath again...wow..oxygen...what a feeling of relief. I watch for several minutes, assuring myself that it is over...and resume my trip down the road, my steps a little quicker now...furtive glances over my shoulder, in a few minutes I am in position....watching the logging clearing on the west end of our targetted area..visions of the 'ridge runner' back in my head.

Two hours later....there, movement, way back in the far left corner of the clearing. I saw movement, the binoculars come up..a quick focus...it's Ron. I see his wave as he spots my location and he walks out to join me. It looks like the old 'ridge runner' didn't follow the escape route we thought he would and we started back for camp.

As I recounted this story to Ron he just chuckled, we stopped and paced out the distance from where I was standing during this experience, to where the cougar was, 18 paces. And he was impressed, I saw the 'look' almost an appraisal if you will from my hunting partner, the raised eyebrow......were you scared he asked?? Ron I said..."I was so scared my hair stood on end...... and my hat fell off!!" Our laughter shook the snow off the trees and we still have a chuckle together everytime we ponder a hunt for the 'ridge runner', and the cougars you can run into!! (pardon the pun)

Excellent story ! You had my attention.

Don

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Silence.....Half light.....was that an ear twitch?

Well, an introduction first. My handle is Tarp Man because I always set up a tarp over my tent / eating area when camping. When I first met my inlaws, they chuckled a bit, but they were the ones beating down the tent doors in the morning after a rain storm moved through. Again, this year at the in-law camp out, my tarps covered 4 tents, including my own.

I started hunting last fall in Ft. St. John for moose with my wife's cousin, as he started me the winter before hunting geese in the Fraser Valley. Freezing cold, one goose, and a morning of university classes missed. That was all it took to get me hooked. So far I've harvested a mulie doe and a bull moose. Passed on lots of blacktails this fall cause I've got no room in the freezer.

Anyways, the story is of my moose hunt.

Picture a large clearing, about 30 acres in size, logged about 5 years earlier and replanted that same year. We split up as we have tried everything but still hunting and have not seen a moose in 3 days of hunting. I sit down with the wind in my face and clear a little "no noise" zone around a great shooting stump. I can shoot off the stump for about 130 degrees rotation. My buddy was off to the side of me so I didn't want to shoot him. He's a guy to ride the river with. SO as it gets dusk, I hear a stick snap where I know my buddy isn't. I wait and glass for movement. Probably another mulie I think. So I wait for another few minutes, and hear another crunch, closer to my hideout. The mosquitos are doing their best for the Canadian Blood service, but I don't want to move in case I see a shootable animal. Glassing non-stop has got me no closer to finding the animal. Again a few minutes later another stick snapping. At this point I quietly chamber a round and open the bolt to hold the round in place for a quick and quiet chambering. I hear my buddy get back from his walkabout, and he is ready to check out another seismic line as it gets dark. We signal back and forth that I will stay put and he will hunt back to the road. No sooner do I turn around than I spot the source of the noise! A paddle bull! Is it? I think so! I check again through my binos. Yep, its a bull! Slowly close the bolt, aim, steady, aim, steady through the bull fever, BOOM!!! Down he goes! What a feeling! I have finally arrived and had the patience to wait it out. My first moose.
-Tarp Man

heres my story hope you enjoy.

me and my dad were out hunting on my brothers birthday the night before i was i was snooping around (as usual) and i found a 30-06 shell on top of the fridge i asked my dad where it came froma nd he said eh found it in the truck it must have been one 150 or 180 psp which i practice with ideal for deer anyways i decided for that to be my lucky shell. we headed out in the mornign driving into the back clearings we saw a cow calf moose they stood there as logn as we were parked there finally we moved on it was a real bummer cause all moose seasons were closed we headed into this one block and saw a 2 point moose and a cow the 2 point stood broadside for abotu 20 minutes then they went and lied down by the buch line my dad was going to the bathroom in the buch and on the way he called me and told me there was a moose carcass there i lloked the animal was clearly poached everythign left but the antlers were gone anyways we went to the next block found about 10 minute old big buck tracks and i mean BIG he walked by this little tree and kicked the crap out of it with his antlers we walked intot he thick bruch after him but didnt find him on the way out we decided to walk the last road we were walking along and i just truned my head for soem reason and said hey theres a deer my dad quickly lifted his binos and said it has horns shoot it this all ahppened in a botu 5 second but the deer didnt want to stick around just as he was going to run i put a shot into his heart kept my rifle up in his area in case he wanted to get up but he didnt i ejected the empty shell and and put on the safety if he woulda gotten up i would have reloaded it in a snap we walked back to the truck and got our packs well we both drug the deer back he may only have had 4 points but my god he was heavy we finaly got him back to the truck and drove home my brother was still in bed lazy as he is at 1 in the afternoon i woke him up and told him i got him a present lol that was not to long ago and the deer i made a really nice european mount and put it on a plaque. hope you enjoyed my story

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edited by moose hunter-- dont edit my stuff boo

Too long to put here so here's the link.

http://huntshoot.coastangler.com/hu...caribou+article

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I GIVE MY HEART TO MY FAMILY...
MY MIND TO MY WORK...
BUT MY SOUL BELONGS TO THE MOUNTAINS

Some very good reads. Good times. Here is the story of my first fly in trip. Warning......it's long too. It was posted last year so some will remember it.

http://huntshoot.coastangler.com/hu...&highlight=trip

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AKA- dw on CGN