Looking back on the hunts of 2011

I’ve had a few folks ask me if I’ve gotten my moose this year. They remember me saying something about somebody getting a moose on the hunting trip I mentioned in this column a couple of weeks ago, but they can’t remember if the lucky hunter was me or someone else. Here’s the straight “skinny” on that hunt and a couple of other stories from this season’s moose hunts.

Gnarly Dan, Sweet William (a man of delicate sensitivities), and I hunted in Game Management Unit (GMU) 14A for about 10 days over the Labor Day holiday. Bill was watching the southern edge of “The Big Swamp” on Labor Day and had parked his ATV. He was quietly walking along an old trail on the edge of the swamp, actually looking more than walking, when, suddenly, a small bull moose just appeared in front of him about 40 yards away.

The bull sported three points on the antler nearest to Bill. As he watched the moose through his binoculars slowly moving in the brush, he noticed the other side of the rack was a fork. Just to confirm what he thought he saw, Bill put his binoculars down and picked them back up and looked again — sure enough, a fork on one side!

He lowered the binocs, slowly raised his 7mm Magnum rifle, and fired at the bull’s heart-lung area from approximately 40 yards away. A quick second shot and the bull was down for the count. Unfortunately, the bull lay in a small pool of water in the swampy terrain, not deep water, but enough to be a pain while we gutted and quartered the animal. This all happened about 2 p.m. in the afternoon.

Bill figured the bull had been bedded down in the swamp and decided to stand up just as he was walking by. That’s the only explanation we could come up with as to why the moose just suddenly appeared in front of Bill. That was the only bull any of us saw on that trip.

Gnarly Dan and I made a one-day hunt to a spot up in GMU 14B last week. This area was supposed to be a pretty good area for moose, with limited hunting pressure and a history of giving up at least a bull per year. The area did look “moosey” but between the two of us, we saw four grouse, two squirrels and two Canada jays the entire day. We tried calling, both bull grunts and cow calls, and scraping brush, but apparently no bulls had moved into the area yet to respond to our efforts. I guess that’s why they call it hunting and not killing.

As I write this, Gnarly Dan and Gentle Ben (another good friend) are planning another one-day hunt this week in an area the regulations refer to as “the remainder of GMU 14C,” where the moose season remains open until Sept. 30. Ben secured permission on to the private property they’ll hunt. I was included in the original hunt plan, but the hunt will involve some difficult hiking over steep, rough ground. Ever since my auto accident in 2005, where my left ankle was shattered, I’ve had trouble walking over steep, rough ground. I thanked the guys for thinking of me but politely declined — I’d be more of a hindrance than a help. However, I did loan them my game cart to help with packing out meat if they are successful (I always knew they only included me for my gear!)

Another friend who usually hunts moose from a boat told me that he and his partner saw four bulls one day during this season. The smallest bull was too big and the biggest was too small to be legal, so they could only watch and enjoy the encounter without filling their freezers. That can become frustrating if it becomes a regular occurrence on a hunt.

Yet another friend had a little better success this year. Mark and his partner were on a fly-in hunt and had spotted a nice bull on their way into the hunting area. They expected the bull to remain in the area, so they waited until the next day to try to find it, complying with the regulations about flying and hunting. As they hiked into the general area where they had seen the bull the day before, the alders and willows became so thick, Mark commented that he was not about to pack meat through that kind of tangled vegetation. They turned around and started back toward their camp.

After exiting the thick brush, they took a breather. Mark thought the area looked “moosey” and gave a bull grunt. Almost immediately, another grunt was heard. Mark thought his partner, who was off taking care of “business,” had grunted and Mark was surprised at how realistic it had sounded. His partner thought the same about Mark and the second grunt. Mark grunted again.

After just a little bit, the bull came out from the trees and headed straight for the guys. Mark took one look and shot the bull between the eyes. The 56 _-inch rack (I’d have just said 57-inch) was obviously legal and now the work began. Mark told me that after hanging a week, one quarter still weighed 110-pounds. This was a good size bull with a rack anyone would be proud to have on their wall. More importantly, Mark and his family now have a winter’s meat supply in the freezer — something I’ll be trying for again next year.

Howard Delo is a retired fisheries biologist with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. Leave him a message by emailing sports@frontiersman.com.