[Rhodes22-list] Hunting Moose

Tue Oct 31 14:24:15 EST 2006

Hank,

     I enjoyed the story and the pictures.  I only carry a 357, so maybe I
need to move up.  But then I have no intenion of going hunting in Alaska.  I
am strickly in the southern appalacians and my 357 should suffice.  However,
the local ferel hogs are quite big.  They are the only critters that will
attack.  The coyotes, bears and moutain lions don't.   But we do get some
big snakes around here.

       I am waiting to see the hate mail you get.  

Ed K
Greenville, SC, USA
addendum:  "chairman - person who sits in front of and directs the operation
of a small pot still."


Hank-5 wrote:
> 
> If any of you guys are into hunting you'll like this story my Uncle sent
> me.
> 
> Hank
> 
> This is what I call gun control. - nfs
> 
> 
> 
> We all have read about or seen movies entitled, "The Longest Day," "The
> Longest Yard," "or The Longest Mile." Well, I am going to tell you about
> "The Longest Minute" of my life.
> 
> Reed Thompson and I had been hunting hard for five days. The day was
> Thursday, September 7, 2006. The weather had turned from beautiful sunny
> skies to gale force winds and the blasting rain that comes with fall
> storms.
> Never has the weather dictated hunting time to us, so out we ventured into
> the Alaska bush. Not seeing a single bull for several days, we decided to
> hunt an area downstream that had always produced one.
> 
> Late in the evening, we were walking down a raised half mile long finger
> of
> ground that was full of grass and alders. This turf was slightly higher
> than
> the swampy tundra on either side of it. We had slogged across the swamp as
> quickly as possible, during a sudden deluge, to get to the downwind point.
> Our hope was that our passage would not be observed with the sudden
> increased wind and rain. About halfway down the finger, Reed turned to me
> and said, "I think there is a moose up ahead. It looks like two white
> sticks
> in the grass. It would surprise me if it was not a moose." I glassed the
> area about one hundred yards ahead and to the left. With Reed's help, I
> zeroed in on the two white sticks and watched them for several minutes.
> With
> the slightest movement, the two sticks transformed into a white paddle and
> then back to the two sticks. The bull had moved his head ever so slightly.
> 
> I moved my scope out to ten-power and focused in on the two white sticks
> as
> Reed moved about ten yards further down the high ground. Then as Reed
> focused on the white points, I moved to his location for a better shot.
> Reed
> began moving toward our quarry as I watched for movement though the scope.
> With nothing solid or high enough to rest my rifle on, I was forced to aim
> free-hand. When Reed had taken a few steps, I saw the horns rock to the
> right and then back to the left. The big boy then stood up and was looking
> directly our way. Even with the forty mile an hour winds blowing directly
> at
> us, he sensed our presence. I squeezed off a round from my Browning .338
> and
> felt good about the shot, but the bull took two or three steps to my right
> and disappeared out of sight behind some alders. Reed could still see him
> and shouted, "Do you want me to shoot him?" I yelled back at him to go
> ahead
> because I did not want the bull running too far. I heard his shot as I was
> scrambling forward to get a better look. After a thirty yard hustle, I was
> able to see the huge fellow still standing. I put another shot into him
> and
> watched him drop. We both hesitantly, but with great excitement,
> approached
> this giant and realized that he was dead.
> 
> This was a mature bull with a beautiful rack and the biggest body mass I
> had
> ever seen. The fun was definitely over; now, the real work was read to
> begin. After consulting the GPS, we noted that we were a half mile from
> the
> slough and boat. It was decided that both of us should return to the boat
> to
> discard unnecessary items and return with the gear needed to prepare and
> pack out the meat. We placed red and blue handkerchiefs high in an alder
> bush so that the sight could be located from the adjacent high ground.
> This
> was the easiest half mile hike of the day. I was pumped up and excited
> beyond explanation.
> 
> At the boat, we left our heavy rifles. We gathered our pack frames, game
> bags, ropes and knives. After Reed repositioned the boat, to compensate
> for
> the upcoming low tide, I asked him, with hand signals, if he remembered to
> get the handguns. He did not understand my award winning charade
> performance, but I let it pass after observing his revolver strapped to
> his
> chest.
> 
> Upon returning to the moose, we were hot, sweaty, and wet. The rain had
> abated for awhile, so we removed our rain gear and hung them in a small
> tree
> about five yards perpendicular to the moose belly. Reed removed his
> revolver, hung it on a branch opposite his jacket, and brought to my
> attention that it was hanging there.
> 
> With darkness approaching, we decided on removing the top front and rear
> quarters, tie them to our pack frames, gut him out, and then roll the
> behemoth over to cool through the night. We would return in the morning to
> finish up. Two non-spoken traditions when hunting are: whoever pulls the
> trigger 1) does the gutting and 2) hauls the horns out of the woods.
> 
> After removing the two quarters, it was time to remove the internal
> organs.
> After cutting, tearing, and ripping, I had removed all but the heart and
> part of the esophagus. Darkness was settling in pretty fast and I could
> barely move my arms. At this point, Reed said that he would trade places
> with me. Instead of moving up behind the moose, I just scooted to the rear
> leg area and watched Reed crawl up inside the gut cavity. After a couple
> of
> cuts the ordeal was over. As Reed pulled the heart out and tossed it
> behind
> us, a loud "HUFF" snapped us to our feet. Turning around, we saw standing
> before us, on his hind legs a large, chocolate brown grizzly bear.
> 
> The next minute seemed to last an eternity. The term surreal is so over
> used, but the next minute was dreamlike, bizarre, fantastic, and unreal.
> The
> bear was standing next to the tree where the pistol was hanging. We both
> started shouting and waving our arms back and forth, as we moved somewhat
> to
> our right, toward the tail end of the moose. The bear came down off his
> back
> legs, onto all fours, and started circling to his right -- toward the head
> of the bull. My only thought was to get to the gun so that we could scare
> him off. I sensed that he charged us from the head of the moose as I broke
> for the gun. Reed commented later that the bear vaulted over the moose and
> went straight for him. Halfway to the tree, I tripped on a fallen log and
> went down on all fours. From my peripheral vision on my right, I saw the
> bear going after Reed, who had moved into the tall (5 foot) grass. It
> appeared that the bear had knocked Reed down and was standing over him. My
> worst fear was that my friend was being mauled. did not know how I would
> get
> him back to the boat and then home.
> 
> I grabbed the holster but was unable to remove the revolver, regardless of
> how hard I tugged. As I looked up, I saw the bear charging toward me. I
> started backing up as I continued screaming and hollering at the bear. I
> was
> frustrated that the pistol would not break free from the holster. With the
> bear almost on top of me, I fell over another log. I did a back drop and
> felt him grab my left leg. His huge head was above my lap, just out of
> reach
> of my holstered club. I tried to hit him with the pistol but a crazy
> thought
> entered my mind that I could scare him into thinking I was going to shoot
> by
> waving it back and forth. Unable to remove the pistol from the holster, I
> tried to shoot through it, but the strap held the hammer down on the
> single
> action revolver. Just when I thought all was lost, the bear rose up,
> pivoted
> 90 degrees to his left, and was gone. The grizzly had charged back in the
> direction of Reed as he had jumped up and yelled once again. Later, Reed
> stated that he had seen the bear knock me down and thought he was mauling
> me. The thought entered his mind that he was a goner. He was alone in the
> grass with no weapon. I was down and I had the gun. When the bear started
> moving toward him, Reed dropped back down into the low wallow area where
> he
> had fallen during the initial charge. Reed saw the bear face about a foot
> from his own. He could hear the bear trying to sniff him out. At that
> point,
> the bear stood up, pivoted to his right, and charged back to me.
> 
> When Reed distracted the bear from its attack on me, I had time to
> concentrate on the holster. I saw a buckle with a strap running through
> it.
> I could not figure out how it held the gun in place, so I grabbed the
> buckle
> and attempted to rip it off. To my surprise, the buckle was actually a
> snap
> and the strap peeled away. As I pulled the revolver out, a sudden calm
> came
> over me, and I knew everything would be fine. I looked in the direction of
> Reed only to once again see the bear charging at me. He was about ten feet
> away coming up and over the initial log that I had tripped over. That was
> when I pointed the revolver and fired at center mass. The .44 magnum
> boomed
> in the night and the bear fell straight down, his head three feet away
> from
> where I stood. As he fell, he bit at the ground and ended up with a
> mouthful
> of sod. I stood in a dumbfounded stupor. I had no expectation that the
> pistol would kill the bear. My hope was that the shot would sting the bear
> and help scare him away along with the flame and loud report. As his head
> sagged to the ground, I shot him three more times in quick succession, out
> of fear and anger.
> 
> My next sensation was hearing Reed voice ask if the bear was dead. I
> answered, "Yes." He then yelled at me to save the rest of the rounds
> because
> we still had to walk out, and he did not have any more bullets with him.
> The
> minute was over. We hugged each other for a long time, before packing out
> the two quarters.
> 
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