September nights

Most evenings in September I find myself sitting on the ridge overlooking my favorite moose spot. From my position I can see a large, swampy opening surrounded by dense birch and spruce. An old burn slopes down from one side and drops into a small stream, creating thick underbrush that provides ample cover and food for moose, as well as blown down that makes travel difficult. Sitting in this spot has paid off before and I walk in each night, wondering if the rut has started to kick in and what I’ll experience in those couple of hours before nightfall.

I’m often accompanied by my wife and the two of us sneak out to our favorite spot after dinner and sit until well after dark. We often bring a thermos of tea and sip on it while sprawled out on our foam pads. Several spruce trees provide protection from the rain above and a Thermacell protects from the mosquitoes that swarm up from the swamp. We scroll on our phones or read a book. I often take the time to type out stories that I’m working on or respond to emails that I received throughout the day. While not entirely disconnected, it is still nice to sit outside in the cool evenings of fall and ground ourselves with the earth.

Moose hunting, for me, is more about using my ears than anything else. Moose are not small creatures and are not the quietest game animal I’ve ever pursued. Most moose that I have encountered while hunting are ones that I have heard first. Whether that was grunting from a bull, a limb pop under a hoof, a snort from a cow or even antler tips pinging off of thick brush. Even when I’m on my phone or in a book, I’m always listening.

What ultimately led to a successful harvest last year was hearing the faint sounds of antlers scraping against brush. And I don’t mean raking, just a bull slowly working his way through the thick swamp. Because I could hear him walking, I was able to drop in and get him agitated with some cow calls, grunts and brush thrashing. I had to back out that night because it became too dark and planned to return the next day. As soon as I returned to my spot the following evening, I heard a moose snort to my right and was immediately back in the same action I had been in the day before, only slightly higher in elevation and (thankfully) out of the swamp. I would end up shooting a forked horn bull that night with the help of a keen sense of hearing and knowing what sounds to listen for.

Things are looking up so far this year. I’ve seen a couple of young cows in my spot. Having a live cow around is the best type of decoy there is. My fingers are crossed that if they stick around in the same area, they will go into estrous and bring a bull into me. I used that trick last year as well. I see fresh signs every night that I go in and can often hear things moving in the forest around me. I’m sure they’re close and it should only be a matter of time until the rut and weather gets them moving and more vocal.

I look for little successes every time I am out. That’s usually something like seeing a porcupine, finding an old moose skull, watching a flying squirrel land in a tree next to me, listening to owls, flushing a covey of grouse or celebrating a bat that catches all of the mosquitoes around us. And these are all things that I have experienced in my outings this year.

There are still a couple of weeks left in the season and the best part of the rut is yet to come. You can bet I’ll be at my spot, sipping my tea and busting some brush with my wooden canoe paddle nearly every night until the end of September.