Successful caribou/moose hunt

[cuervosail]

[cuervosail]

We awoke to a thick frost on the tents on the morning of Day 3. Our plan was to leave base camp and set up a couple of spike camps – three of us somewhere in a nearby valley and the other two guys farther north. It was a glorious sunny day with a light breeze. Soon after we got across the lake and began our hike in, a casual look to the skyline and sure enough, there was a bull. A check with the binos confirmed he had the requisite 5 points where they needed to be.

The adrenaline quickly began to pump in the other two guys who were with me. For me, not so much. They were both new to caribou hunting but I have 23 years’ experience of successfully guiding hunters to trophy caribou in the Northwest Territories to rely on. Trying to get the point across that there was plenty of time to make a stalk on the bull was not easy. Impatience and excitement ruled the morning.

We used the lay of the land to get within about 600 yards below the bull and then ran out of cover. He was bedded down and obviously not going anywhere – although this point was hard to get across to my buddies. After much discussion, some more waiting, a bit of mid-morning snacking, we made a plan to break across some open ground and get below the hill where we would be out of sight and could then close the gap.

[cuervosail]

My guiding experience kicked in to high gear and the plan worked to a tee. We dropped our packs once we were within what I thought was a couple of hundred yards of where we last had seen the bull. Slowly, we crept up the hill, me in the lead, scanning the skyline with each step for the telltale sign of those antler tops.

Bingo – there he was, head down feeding in pretty much the same spot we saw him last. I dropped back a few steps, out of sight of the bull, whispered and pointed to my buddies, “He’s 120 yards, broadside. Creep up here and take him.”

And so they did.

[cuervosail]

[cuervosail]

Anticipatory thoughts of once again being able to taste fresh caribou meat occupied my mind as we field dressed the bull and made a short pack back to the boat.

The others had set off in a different direction that morning but saw the whole episode from their vantage point and, like us, decided to forego plans for a spike camp and made their way back to base camp too.

Dinner that night was fresh bannock and backstraps from what I think is the best game meat in North America – freshly-killed caribou.

[cuervosail]

It was tough hunting for the next couple of days – a lot of miles were logged with nothing to show for our efforts. We were convinced that we were in moose country but a little confounded about why we hadn’t seen any. That was about to change.

The good weather held for us on our last day of hunting. We had packs on our backs and were having one last discussion about the day’s plans when one of the group casually looked across the lake. It was easy to see the white paddles of the big bull.

The day’s plans were quickly shelved and three guys paddled across the lake straight at the bull while I let out a cow call. That got his attention and he turned and looked my way for about 10 minutes. He casually walked a few steps and disappeared from our vantage point at camp but by then, the other three were already on shore and making their move.

The two of us pulled out the camp chairs, had another cup of coffee and used the binoculars to keep kept on eye on the progress of the show on the other side of the lake. It took longer than expected but that 50” bull hit the deck only a few steps from where we spotted him earlier that morning.

[huntcoop]

Awesome pictures!

[Darksith]

We need more of these stories...keep it up, love these.

[cuervosail]

By day’s end, the meat was back at camp hanging on a pole in the shade. Moose tenderloins and fresh bannock for supper that night. Although IMHO moose isn’t as tasty as caribou, it’s a helluva lot better than Mountain House!

While we waited for our pickup on the last day, we heated up rifle barrels by taking long potshots at various targets and took ‘no-chance-in-hell-of-ever-getting-him’ shots at some of the dozens of ptarmigan that had kept us company all week.

I’ve been on a lot of floatplanes over the years but the takeoff in the Beaver with 2 guys, a lot of gear, 600 pounds of meat and no wind was the sketchiest I’ve ever experienced. You know it’s been dicey when, a few minutes into the flight, your pilot with 40 years’ experience huffs out a long sigh.

Our thoughts about the moosy-looking terrain were confirmed about 10 minutes into the flight back to Dease Lake when we circled over two enormous bulls bedded in the willows. Grampas to the one we had taken and something to make the next round of planning/anticipation and hunt arrival go by much quicker.

[nano]

Very well written, congrats !