Hunter's Path XVI

With no bulls spotted, we opted to
continue to a swamp further up the mountain.
A brief hike and investigation of the
area revealed plenty of moose sign and confirmation
of what we already knew. There
were a good number of moose in the area,
but we didn’t come across anything to put
a tag on.
Last Resort
By the time we had wrapped up at the
swamp, only two hours were left of legal
shooting light. This was not going to leave
us enough time to get to a new area. Since
the rut was in full swing, Weston suggested
we set up on a ridge above where we had
located the cow and calf earlier. Perhaps a
bull would pass through, or better yet come
looking for the cow.
Methodically we scanned the area,
picking apart every little detail and dark
spot that appeared out of place. We caught
a glimpse of the same cow, but she still
didn’t have male company. With less than
an hour of daylight remaining, Weston
asked, “What do you think, cow call?” I
gave the thumbs up. With the live decoy
feeding below us, if there was a bull
close-by, she would be the ideal way to
draw him into the open.
EEEEE-OOOOO-F-F-F. Weston
made one calling sequence. Patiently we
waited. The silence was suddenly broken
by a far-off grunt, coming from the back
of the large cut block, which was roughly
a thousand yards away. The first grunt was
followed by another a few seconds later.
The steady grunts grew louder and closer,
as the smitten bull came to investigate.
Since we weren’t in an ideal spot for a
comfortable rest, we relocated in anticipation
of where the bull would eventually
step out. If he continued on his chosen
path, he should first appear about two hundred
yards away on a small ridge that was
clear of any trees. It was a waiting game.
Listening to grunt after grunt, I habitually
re-checked my rest, rangefinder, rifle
and shooting lanes. The anticipation was
excruciating!
“There he is!” Weston said. He was
five yards to my left and had a clear view
as the bull emerged, but I couldn’t see it.
“He’s coming. Get ready.” I chambered a
round, and settled in, looking through my
riflescope at where the bull should soon
be visible. “Wait, he’s staring right at us!”
It felt like my heart was going to beat out
of my chest. This was it. I was finally going
to get my opportunity to kill my first
Canadian moose.
Considering the bull’s steady pace I
realized that he wasn’t going to let up,
so I asked Weston to pass me my bow.
It looked like he would soon be right on
top of us and well within bow range. I
rushed to range-find some surrounding
landmarks, and focused on containing my
excitement and keeping my composure.
If he appeared where I thought he was
going to, I’d have a clear sixty-yard shot.
Grunt, grunt, grunt – the bull continued
to come, head swaying back and forth
with each step.
I was ready to take the shot. When the
bull got to sixty-five yards he stopped. All I
needed was for him to take just a few more
short steps. As luck would have it, that’s
the exact moment the wind shifted and
blew our scent directly to the previously
unsuspecting bull. This caused him to turn
ninety degrees and get out of there.
Second Chances
It was like fate with this bull. Usually,
when an animal blows out, they go quickly
and quietly. This moose however was so
wrapped up in the rut that he walked off
slowly and continued grunting the entire
way. This was a second chance! Abandoning
my bow, I again grabbed my rifle and
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