Jul 08
21
A Long Shot Bull
When I arrived at the moose camp it was just as Preston had described it, a nice tent location just below the hill, and a good place to land, with only a short distance to walk for a sweeping view of the country for miles. This was the location of Preston’s hunt with Ulrich in 2006, and the spot where nine bears had tore up the ground over the moose carcass was still clearly visible.
I got settled in just as Preston arrived with Scott Maynard, my client for the next few days. Little did we both know that it would be over a lot sooner than that. We did some glassing in the fading light, and it was a nice and calm evening, but a storm was on the way in from the coast. The morning came early, but we were up and ready well before it was light enough to see. The sky showed signs of a nice day. Glassing off the east slope gave us nothing, so nonchalantly I suggested we check out the other side of the hill. It wasn’t but two minutes before I spot a Moose in my spotting scope, a cow. I hurriedly scan the surrounding area for a possible bull. Nothing at first, but then out of nowhere he appears, and even from a mile away he looks big.
We watched for only a few moments, and already our hearts began to thump. Four brow tines were clear on the one side, but a bull this size didn’t need reassurance. He was apart from his cow so he was on the move, up the draw after her, so we drop back behind the ridge and basically had to run to get into postion. But as we neared their location, the bull had regained his cow and now they had turned around and were heading back down the draw, so we responded with a rapid side hill, steadily closing the distance. It took about thirty minutes, but we finally reached a little rise across the creek from their last seen location, they had been moving in and out of the brush. Horns were spotted, so I called to get his attention, and he came up out of the brush, giving me a chance to range him, 400 yards, too far, so I tried to call him in, but he had what he wanted and didn’t want to fight, so he turned to go, then reappeared again, but just as he was getting ready to be gone, we took the chance. Scott shot and the bull doesn’t move, he shot again. The bull only takes a few steps and then stops. Not wanting to lose him we put a few more shells in him, but he just stood there, the cow long gone by now. But then through my spotting scope I see blood coming down his leg, he was hit good. And ever so slowly he starts to sway like a tree in the wind. It seemed like an eternity before he finally crumpled his legs and dropped so hard I could almost feel it.
After calling in the success and waiting to be sure, we approached this huge beast. We found it was a lung shot, but I couldn’t believe how long it took for him to bleed out.
Usually the work then starts, which it did but only a short pack to a landing spot made this hunt have a short end, and we were all out by dark. We knew the bull was big, well over sixty, but it wasn’t till later that evening that we taped it out at 67 inches, a true trophy.
The weather was too good to be true, and we made it out before the big storm hit.
