Wow, that was quite the hunt. I’m glad we had Boats or we might’ve needed scuba gear. Sometimes mother nature can work against you and this was definitely one of those times. Stay tuned for a story about moose hunting, Rain, rising waters, and a flood on almost a biblical scale.
Hi folks, Spencer Remple here the moose whisperer bringing you exciting hunting and outdoor adventure stories from around the world and today’s story is brought to you by me and my first hunting guide client Terri. A 110 pound ball of fire that could work, hunt and shoot like no other. You don’t have to be a big tough man to be a great hunter. This small woman proved that tenacity, strength and character come in all sizes let’s get straight to the story.
The year was 2011 in the coastal mountains of British Columbia. I’m not gonna tell you where but it was close to Bella Coola. A beautiful place if you ever get the chance to visit.
Driving up to the dock, a small float plane awaited our clients as camp was fly in only, with the use of two John Boats to Hunt a windy stretch of river.
Now myself, another guide named Nathan and the guide outfitter Jon had arrived early to beat back the bush, get camp ready and do a little scouting before our four clients arrived. In fact, we had just over a week of work ahead of us. The camp had not been touched for a year, so there was a lot of work to do. The day after we arrived, it started to rain and then it rained harder. Wow “this is a lot of rain even for the West Coast” I thought. My coworker and I worked hard cutting brush, making trails, powersawing out logjams and sweepers, as well as bringing in firewood amongst many other tasks.
This rain was heavy. I mean really heavy. In fact, there was no way of staying dry, and in a matter of an hour or two you were as wet as you had gotten up, put on all your clothes and jumped in the river. It continued to downpour the third day, the fourth day and the river started to rise. We had a little SOS text message service set up and decided we better inform our clients. Not wanting to scare them off completely, we simply said: “we strongly suggest you bring good high rubber boots.” We continued to work in the rain for another two days as the river swelled and grew even higher. Time to send another email: “we highly suggest you bring good hip waders” we wrote, thinking this rain has got to stop at any time. Let me be clear it never let up not for one minute. Two more days went by and now the river had swelled to 2 inches from its highest bank, where our cabin was located and everything lower than that level was now completely submerged.
Well, we better send one more email we thought and simply texted “we highly suggest you bring chest waders!”It was still another day until they would arrive and we hadn’t seen or heard a moose anywhere. Which is really strange. I mean this is Moose heaven, remote with no outside pressure from other hunters.
I started spending all my time scouting with the little John boat and mud Buddy surface drive outboard engine. I was glad to have that system instead of a jet drive that would suck up leaves, grass and debris that floated everywhere. The water was so high, I could honestly drive my boat in all of the Meadows, areas and even the forest we were planning to hunt. Now Moose love water, but I don’t think they like sleeping in it and we couldn’t find a moose anywhere in this valley bottom. Oh, well, it can’t rain forever I thought. “The water will drop and I’ll call in a bull Moose”, I kept reassuring myself. But anxiety was filling our camp, as these people had paid good money to shoot a big moose and so far I hadn’t seen any moose.
Our clients arrived: a husband and wife, their good friend and their nephew. Americans they were and about the best goodhearted, happy, good natured people I’d ever met. They arrived with fresh new chest waders from Cabela’s and big smiles on their faces. Nothing could discourage them as we slogged through knee-deep water, just trying to find some high ground.
The rain stopped over the next couple of days and the river height started to fall. Guess what? We even shot a moose right from our camp cabin. OK good these clients weren’t fussy. Herm was happy to wake up from an afternoon nap grab his rifle and blast a bull Moose right off the deck. They were experienced meat hunters who understood the conditions, situation and were honestly just happy to be there.. OK great but I’ve still gotta get a Moose with Herman‘s wife Terry, who is feeling a little anxious, she may go home empty-handed.
We tried spot after spot with no luck at all. Finally travelling up the valley, a little closer to the mountains we gained elevation and found some dry land. I decided that’s where we would hunt. It wasn’t my favourite spot because it was really bushed in which made our approaches, loud, our shots narrow and close. We parked the boat on a sandbar, tying it to a log just before first light on a nice and finally, not raining day. Terri, Herm and I walked a trail I had scouted out that would lead us to a small open swampy area. I hike that would take about 10 minutes as we approached slowly, quietly, not talking and making as little noise as possible.
Now both Terry and Herm were experienced hunters and I was very appreciative of that fact. They knew what to do, but also looked for, and listened to my guidance. We hunkered down behind some willows where we could see about 100 yards ahead. I gave my first Moose call, a nice long cow call. I had hardly had the time to bring the air back into my lungs when we heard the reply. Grunt, grunt, snap, snap thump, thump, thump, grunt grunt grunt as he came running towards us grunting all the way and throwing all caution to the wind. Oh my God that is one horny bull and I was glad to know that there was one in the area. Now suddenly, right before he entered the clearing, the crashing and grunting stopped. Darn it. I thought the jig is up. Somehow he smelt us. I quickly checked the wind again which was still blowing in my face. I knew that that bull, as anxious and excited as he was, did not want to approach us blind. He would be entering that open area blind, as they rely so much on their sense of smell. I knew before he got too close that he would want to know what or who was there and it’s only his nose that could tell him that for sure. We waited. Nothing, no reply, not a sound.
“I know what that bull is doing” I thought to myself, he’s quietly circling, all the way around. He doesn’t care how long it takes, but he’s gonna try to get behind us to get our scent. “OK we gotta move.” I told my clients in a very low whisper. In my mind I could see the trail we came in on and knew if we headed back through that thick bush, there was one spot that was open for 60 or 70 yards. If we got there before him, we would more than likely see him cross that spot. “Follow me and keep low, slow and quiet” I whispered as we ducked down to bush level and started making our way to the spot I had in mind. Myself in the lead, Terry behind and Herm taking up the rear.
Well, sure enough, the second we got to that open spot that bull came walking out. I made a quick signal to stop as I hunkered down low and gave my best Moose call and signalled to Terri that this was her time to shoot. That bull was only 70 yards away and Terry was packing a big rifle with a nice scope. I knew she had the shot, but that bull moose was staring straight at us. He couldn’t smell us but any kind of movement or sound was going to turn him on a dime and send him running back from where he came.
I knew we didn’t have much time and the seconds ticked by like minutes, waiting for that gun to blast.
Now Terri knew what she was doing and the reason she was taking her time was; she did not have an easy shot. Just because the moose was only 70 yards away doesn’t mean there’s an easy killshot. The Moose was not directly facing us, nor was he broadside, but about 45° to one side. Now on a moose, we’re always going for that bread basket shot, right in the chest. You’re shooting for the heart, so if you missed the heart you’ll probably hit the lungs or the liver and anyone of those is a death shot for the moose. We’re not trying to shoot the head or go for the neck which are much smaller targets and could leave him wounded. Terry lined her sites up on the chest area of that moose but at that 45° angle that huge shoulder bone was protecting most of that bread basket area. Terry being an experienced Hunter, new, not to just blasted in the shoulder bone and was taking her time to make sure she came just behind it, but yet close enough that it would take him through the lungs.
Boom, her shot rang out loudly as my ears rang, because her rifle was right above my head. That moose turned and ran from where he came but the shot was good. I heard the smack, and I knew he wouldn’t go far. Basically, he circled back the same way he had come in, until he was back in that open area. He then ran into the middle of the swamp and died right there at least 100 yards from dryland on any side. We found him there fully expired and half submerged. With the water not deep enough to float him. No, this was going to be a drag as we didn’t want to field-dress him in the water. A long, wet drag. Luckily, as part of our equipment, we always keep a capstone winch.
If you’ve never seen a capstone winch, I suggest that you check them out. They are a small Honda four-stroke motor with a drum that kinda looks like a very small tire rim on the side. You can take any length of rope and we had a huge bag of rope, 300 feet to be exact and we would use every inch of it. Tie one end onto the moose and the other wrapped around that drum. You increase the throttle, the drum turns and slowly pulls the rope in as you pull the rope hand over hand into coils near your feet. Check them out. These are a must for any hunting camp.
All right, back to our story. We winched that moose right up to dry land and started field dressing it by doing the gutless method that would be best for us considering our hike to the boat, long travel downstream, and then pulling all the Moose parts up into a high hide to keep them cool and away from bears.
The day was starting and so was the work. Many hands make light work. We radioed camp and everyone came to join us. We laughed, joked and told stories as we sharpened our knives, and continued skinning and cutting. There is a camaraderie that exists between hunting partners that’s hard to explain. Something about that shared experience draws people together like I’ve never seen. They say shared hardship brings people together and on this hunt we had plenty of that. A few more days would see all of our clients harvest a moose, the only four Bullmoose we had seen and I was so thankful my clients weren’t fussy on the antlers. “Well, you can’t eat the antlers,” they said, and ‘we’re happy with the meat and the memories,” knowing that that was the true value.
I couldn’t have been more impressed with that woman, and it was a great reminder to never judge a book by its cover.
