A hunting story from a rancher/hunter/ bush resident's perspective.

Two older fellows have been driving the tires off their Suzuki for ten days now. Good guys, lower mainland residents, IMO a bit on the entitled list as far as where they think they should be able to go. That's my take, they've both worked for their retirement, what the hey.

The old boys finally connected today and one came by the house and asked my wife if she could bring our crew and "help" pack it out. The wife was raised here and lived on moose until her late teens. She knows how to look after what she has killed.

Anyway, the old boy that was the shooter apparently hadn't sighted in the blunderbuss before the trek began. A perfect, non-stinky yet, 4 year old, FAT, bull moose took 2 shots through both hips before getting a third in the neck that put him down. They then proceeded to gut him. Accidentally poking a couple holes in the "willows" and rolling the carcass around in that while they skinned it out.

You guys getting the picture yet?

My question is.... If you are going to treat a gift from nature in that fashion, why bother?


Anyway, the old girl and our three crew got a $200 thank you for their help. I guess everyone is happy tonight.

At least they paid for your help, help that others might not have given, especially under the
circumstances you describe. I totally agree with you on 'treating a gift from nature in that fashion.'
If my dad or grandfather caught me shooting an animal in the rear quarters when I first started
hunting, they would have whipped my ass all over the place. Later on, I wouldn't be welcome in
their camp. I've seen people, usually newbies, get too excited and panic, throwing lead indiscriminately
toward an animal they think is getting away. I've also watched hunting shows filmed in the States
where the 'trophy hunter' shot their prize in the hindquarters because they had no other practical shot
and were only after the antlers. I have absolutely no respect for either, and if it was in my power,
they would lose their hunting privileges.

And those who don't know any different complain and wonder about how weird or "gamey" wild game tastes. Makes me cringe just thinking about it. A couple years ago I came across a father/son team retrieving a bull in a cut. They had quartered it, tied ropes to the pieces and were using the truck to drag the pieces to the road, passing the meat over dirt and right through a burned out burn pile full of ash. What really got me was that the son was a big strapping young man who could have easily hoisted a quarter on his shoulder.

Dad: How's your steak son?
Son: I think I just broke a tooth on a rock.

some people should not hunt...how do you put two holes in the hips?

A friend of mine hunts with his old uncle Andrew. He calls him "Ass Shot Andy" as his first shot into every animal ends up in the ass. :)

gcreek; I like how you view the world. accurately

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Originally Posted by Cyrus

some people should not hunt...how do you put two holes in the hips?

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You aim towards the lungs twice I guess. Maybe it turned around for the coup de grace.

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Originally Posted by Big Lew

At least they paid for your help, help that others might not have given, especially under the
circumstances you describe. I totally agree with you on 'treating a gift from nature in that fashion.'
If my dad or grandfather caught me shooting an animal in the rear quarters when I first started
hunting, they would have whipped my ass all over the place. Later on, I wouldn't be welcome in
their camp. I've seen people, usually newbies, get too excited and panic, throwing lead indiscriminately
toward an animal they think is getting away. I've also watched hunting shows filmed in the States
where the 'trophy hunter' shot their prize in the hindquarters because they had no other practical shot
and were only after the antlers. I have absolutely no respect for either, and if it was in my power,
they would lose their hunting privileges.

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I'm not going to be sanctimonious, (making a show of being morally superior to other people.) but there are those people that get an adrenaline rush that overpowers commonsense and good judgement regardless of being novice or seasoned hunter. And some are overpowered by the dressing process and are not cognizant of hygiene.

I used to hunt with this fellow that became overexcited and it never failed, see an animal and he just lose it. Over the years I would preach to him, "Bud, you shoot an animal, whatever you do, don't chase after it. The further you go in the bush, the harder the retrieval and the gamer the taste will be. Just plant your ass down, wait half an hour, then slowly follow the trail. He shouldn't be too far off."
For the most part, this strategy worked for him. However, one time it didn't.

We were hunting the last few days of the opening, mid-November over in 5-02, knee deep in snow. The day before we flushed 4 bulls out of some scrub spruce but they went too fast and it was also too far.

Next day we crept back into the same area and on the drive in I see a moose standing on the dog leg of the road. There is some about head high willows on road edge and all I can see if the upper half of a large bull. I come to a stop and say, "There's a moose." Bud is trying to slap his mag into his Remington 760 pump and it jams. Meanwhile, I step out and walk to the front of the truck, aim my Ruger No.1 and let it rip for the shoulder. I see horns as he rears up and then I see a moose galloping away. Bud is still fumbling with the mag as I tell him to get back in.

I slowly drive over and give Bud time to sort out the mag issue. We arrive at the vicinity of the moose soon departed and Bud is out of the truck like it is about to blow up. Before I can alight, I hear boom/schmuck and I know it's a hit. Bud hollers, "I got him." And just as I get the words out, "Waaiiittt!" he's off and running, downhill to boot.
I hear boom/schmuck............boom/schmuck again and then just more shots as the schmuck is too far away to hear.

I'm standing on a mound of dirt that gives a good vantage point and out of the corner of my right eye I see a big brown shape and I wheel around thinking grizz, but it's a prone bull moose. There's my moose.

Now this event is a little after 7 AM. I bring the truck up and lay a winch line on the rear legs and position him and the ditch edge head up and proceed to dress him out. By about 11:30 the job is complete and the halves are loaded into the truck box under the cover of the canopy. I clean myself off in the snow and move the truck about a 100 ft forward and have a coffee and lunch.

About 12:15 Bud shows up and proudly proclaims, "Well, I got my moose!" And I says, "So did I!" He gives me a puzzled look and says, "Where is it?" "Back of the truck." He scurries to the back to confirm and then hurries forward and proceeds to tell me where his is.

He emptied two mags (10 shots) and it was still breathing. He tells me where it is and wants me to help get it! I relent and off we go, down a skid trail for about half a click and then along another for about a click and a bit. I am not impressed and chew him out relentlessly.

The dam thing has about as many holes as a sieve. We gut it out and I tell him we only have enough light and time to drag the rear quarters out. "What about the fronts?" "You will have to get that tomorrow!" He has the day off, but I have to go to work. So we set off dragging the quarters, him breaking trail and I tell him there will be no smoke breaks. Back to the truck as darkness quickly sets in.

Mid afternoon next day, the phone rings at work and Bud is on the other end telling me he is home and he has the front quarters.

Now you would think that with that experience, Bud would just lay back a bit. Nah, the excitement spurns the adrenaline and it's off to the races. Some people are just like that. There's no getting away from that.

Bud and I have pulled a few moose down and this related experience was the worst by far.

The one thing I can say about Bud is that he was not a shirker and way more than willing to get the job done after the shot and I would not hesitate to hunt with him now. That's because we are a way lot older and he is a way lot slower so he can't gallop off after quarry like he used to.
It was nice of the missus and crew to provide help and it was nice that the help was appreciated with some compensation. Hats off to the missus.

Oh, Bud is not his real name.

^not Bud the Spud then. Dang, thought I had him pegged!

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My question is.... If you are going to treat a gift from nature in that fashion, why bother?

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Not all hunters share the same view, or have the experience to get it all right.
Plus they felt entitled enough to come to a strangers house and ask for help?
Sometimes age comes alone.