Checkmate! The chess match of September is over

The Chess Match of September is over! After many late nights in the marsh, long treks in the rain and several close encounters in the burn, Emily and I were finally able to connect on a bull in the last few days of the season.

Last week’s story ended when I really got into it with a bull down in the burn. The next night was uneventful with no sounds from the bull. The following night I dropped into the burn and worked into the creek. I would eventually find his three cows and fire up the bull enough for him to rake once, but I never saw him.

Based off of the cows and the wallows I would find the following evening, I assumed that this bull felt safe and content to stay where he was.

Two days later Emily and I decided to switch up our approach. We would hunt the same area, but from a slightly different angle. I found a spot on OnX Maps that would allow for a good advantage along the south side of the burn and overlooking the thick creek bottom.

Immediately upon arriving at our chosen spot I spotted a moose on the opposing ridgeline 400 yards away. I watched it through the binoculars and was surprised when I saw a small set of antlers. After a couple of minutes I was semi-convinced it was a legal forked horn bull.

Emily and I had to come up with a game plan. By this time it was 7 p.m. I didn’t know if I should drop into the creek bottom and cross to the other side or backtrack and go around the creek. He wasn’t responding to calls, only lifting his head up to stare in our direction then returning to feed again.

One thing I distinctly remember was Emily saying that moose never do anything fast. If we wanted to make something happen, we had better do it quick.

I decided to drop off of the ridge and into the burn. I high stepped and climbed my way over deadfall and head-high grass. I weaved in and out from the creek bottom trying to find the easiest and quickest path possible.

As I walked, I snapped sticks and scraped my canoe paddle along the trees. I grunted every couple of minutes. I closed the distance fairly quickly and when I stopped to look up I knew I was within 100 yards.

The bull must have heard me making my way in his direction. I could hear him moving into the bottom and splashing as he crossed the creek. I eased into the thick jungle and found a fairly open lane. I found a small sapling to stand next to and leaned into it, rifle on my shoulder.

Suddenly antlers appeared walking from left to right 60 yards in front of me. I stopped him with a grunt and he turned to look in my direction. I peered through my scope at his antlers to confirm legality, but I couldn’t be certain.

The bull seemed to stare a hole through me. He eventually began walking in my direction and closed the gap to 40 yards. I still couldn’t tell if he was legal or not. I grunted again and shook the tree I was leaning against. He again walked towards me and dropped out of sight before reappearing at 20 yards. At nine power through my scope all I could see was his head and neck out above the thick brush. His left antler had three distinct points, and I was sure his right only had two. The bull continued to stare in my direction and I came to the conclusion that if I was going to harvest this bull I needed to make the decision now.

I brought my crosshairs down along his neck to where I could just see the hump on his back. I dropped down just a bit to where I thought his chest would be behind the brush. I touched off a shot from the old .30-06 and the bull lurched forward. I heard deep breathing and coughing as he walked to my right with his head down before losing sight of him.

I immediately called my wife to tell her what happened. I waited several minutes before moving ahead to where the bull was standing when I shot. I found very little blood but I could see where he had walked through the grass. I slowly and carefully picked my way along the trail finding only a little blood here and there. He was only 30 yards from where I shot him, laying in the grass only five feet from the creek. He was a young 2x3 bull, a perfect eater. I gave out a whoop and I heard Emily cheer from a couple of hundred yards away.

The next few hours were a blur. I called my friend Shane and he met us to help cut up the bull and pack a load out. Another friend, Judd, stepped up in a huge way and helped us cut meat and pack until 3 a.m. The packout in the dark was hellacious with no real easy path to the truck. Rain had made the grass and brush wet and I was drenched from head to toe. The burn was full of downfall and hard to see more than five feet in the dark. It took a couple of trips, roughly a mile in and out each way. But by 4:30 a.m. we had meat hung at home on the porch and I was in bed. My alarm was set for 7:30 a.m. to wake up and guide that day.

We worked hard this season to harvest a moose. The weight and stress is now off my shoulders and the freezer is full. I enjoy moose hunting most of all because of the interaction I share with the moose, the hard work of cutting them up and packing them out and the community aspect of everyone stepping in to lend a hand. Here’s to looking forward to the 2026 Chess Match of September.