Stop to listen to the sounds of nature

I sat motionless under the spindly spruce tree covered in frost. All of the grass and brush in the few small openings, as well as the spruce and alders surrounding me, were also covered in a thick layer of frost. Direct sunlight on this section of ridge had been absent for some time and would not appear again until spring. I shivered a bit and thought about donning a heavier fleece pullover.

Suddenly, off to my right about 30 yards, I heard the distinct sound of a large animal urinating. I imagined it was a moose having just risen from its bed and preparing to move further up the steep slope.

I imagined it was a moose simply because the thick spruce and alder growth prevented me from actually seeing the animal making the noise. I strained my eyes in the dim morning light but never could see any movement of the animal as it left the area. I listened for the sound of the moose making its way through the dense growth but never heard a thing.

Moose can be remarkably quiet!

A couple of minutes later, I heard a bull grunt further off to my right and higher up the slope. I figured that call was from my hunting partner who had continued up into that general area after I had decided to sit and watch the small openings where I was situated. Maybe a half-hour later, I heard another bull moose call from an area further down the slope and probably a mile or so off to my left. Things sounded promising!

My partner, Dan Jeffery, and I were hunting the ridge just south of Eklutna Lake on the last day of the archery-only registration moose hunt in that area. I had opted to stay fairly low on the ridge because the rough ground made travel difficult for me with my bum ankle. Dan had moved further up the ridge, periodically calling and thrashing the trees, hoping to attract a moose in this any-bull hunt.

I hoped to ambush a bull coming to investigate Dan’s calling as it moved along the myriad of moose trails snaking through the small openings I was watching. Dan would take any shots presented from the sides or above his location. Unfortunately, no bulls responded to our efforts.

I stayed in my spot until mid-afternoon, when Dan rejoined me. I had passed the time quietly watching and listening. At one point three camp robbers flew over for a short visit. One perched a few feet above me in my spruce tree. The others landed in neighboring trees. They all were looking for any tasty morsels available to eat and, seeing none, moved on in a few short minutes. Off to my left a red squirrel periodically chattered, showing his distaste for the frosty morning.

As the sun rose and shone on the south-facing slope across the lake, I occasionally glassed above treeline for sheep or perhaps a wandering bear. The panoramic view was beautiful as the sunshine highlighted the browns and greens of the vegetation on the slope. An occasional rock or a patch of birch bark created a mirror-like reflection as time passed and the sunlight changed its angle on the hillside. A solitary cabin mid-way up the ridge line was the only indication there was any human activity within miles.

I slowly sipped from my water bottle and snacked on trail mix and power bars as the day progressed and hunger pangs let me know that breakfast had worn off. I eventually did change jackets and added an extra fleece vest to combat the chilly, frosty air. That lightweight pair of gloves I had remembered to toss in the daypack was appreciated too!

Finally, around 1 p.m., I saw a drop of water fall from the lower limb of a nearby spruce tree — the air had warmed up to freezing and a little of the frost was beginning to melt.

After Dan returned from his hunting up above me, we discussed the situation. Our high hopes of a bull responding to Dan’s calling efforts were dashed with the realization that the bulls weren’t falling for the fake challenge. We guessed that enough other hunters had been calling for the past few weeks that the bulls quit answering any calls altogether. We figured some of the earlier calls we had heard were made not by moose but by other hunters.

With the onset of darkness in just a few hours, we figured any moose we got, even if we shot it right then, would take until after sunset to quarter and pack out. The country we were in was no place to be packing moose quarters after dark!

We decided to call it a day and hunt our way back to the better, flatter trails and eventually hike out to the truck. As we crossed the spillway, Dan pointed out a band of thirteen sheep he had spotted earlier near the top of the south facing ridge.

The moose were safe for another year but the day had been a total success!

Howard Delo is a retired fisheries biologist with the Alaska Department of Fish and Game. You can leave him a message by e-mailing sports@frontiersman.com.