The Mrs. Doesn’t Miss Mr. Moose

Have you ever been so tickled about something that you can’t settle down and write about it for awhile because you just can’t totally get your mind rapped around it? I’m there and I don’t know if I can do it justice even now but I’m going to try.

This is part of our 10 day camp that didn’t last but 36 hours

It seems the older I get the more kick I get out of the boys getting game or fish rather then if I was shooting or catching them myself. I was there when all three boys caught their first fish, when Benji and Todd shot their first deer and when all three took their first elk. There is something very special in my memory about each of these times and I could tell a story about every one of them, its that clear. Something I had hoped for though through the years was that someday I could share in my wife Sue joining me in the field and being with her on her first kill. Well it happened this year when she anchored a bull moose in eastern Idaho, and with a bow no less. Its a little hard to put in words all the feelings I felt standing over this huge animal, looking from it to this little 5’2″ lady with a 48# bow and a grin the size of Texas, all I could say was WOW!

We have shared our lives for over 34 years so none of this should have come as a surprise to me but somehow it did. It started the second she found out she had drawn for a once in a lifetime bull moose tag way back in May. She immediately stepped up her practicing with a bow and when I say disciplined that’s exactly what I mean. I borrowed a short stock rifle from a very good friend and had her shoot it and get used to working the action and just plain get used to this tool of the hunt, because in my mind this was going to be the weapon at crunch time. It didn’t slip past my observance though, that she still was diligent about shooting 20 to 30 arrows a day. I accompanied her to her private little shooting range in the pasture one day and we started at 10 yards and then 20 and I was happy to see she was right in the sweet spot. Then she stepped back to 30 yards and bingo. What have I got here? She is good. When she moved back to 40 yards and drilled it dead on I realized I got a gal here with total focus and I needed to get out of her way. Still deep down I felt the rifle was going to fill the final bill

. Sue was kind enough to let me sit in one of the pics – awesome lady – awesome hunt.

October 1st finally come floating around and I didn’t have to ask her if she was ready because I could see the pickup was packed and she was as antsy as a cat on a hot tin roof. We loaded up Marta (the pack horse) and headed east 390 miles to where we were planning to spend the next 10 days. When we got into camp that night it was very dark so we spent another night in Hotel Horse Trailer. I figure if this lady will do this for a chance at a moose, I have no reason to gripe at the accommodations which include a strong aroma of ammonia. Marta was not a respecter of persons.

That first morning was set aside for setting up a good camp that would be comfortable for the full 10 days. We even set up a second tent to keep our hunting cloths in to keep from smelling like a moving campground as we went through the woods. That afternoon we struck off for the ridge above camp, Sue carrying her bow and I carrying her rifle, and made a huge circle back to camp by way of the creek bottom. I think we both came back to camp a little discouraged that evening because we had glassed a lot of ground and looked into a couple miles of willow covered creek bottoms and never saw anything that resembled a moose. When we had scouted here earlier in the summer we had traveled about every trail in this unit except one. So that night as we were planning the next days hunt I mentioned this trail and Sue said she had been thinking about it too so that settled it.

Day two broke with a high overcast and quite cool. We didn’t get as early a start as we had wanted but we were at the trail head by shooting light. The trail we took went up the bottom of a draw with trees and brush in the bottom and up the north facing slope to our right. On the left, the south facing slope, it was mostly open with grass and sage brush. We were about 3/4 of a mile up this trail when ahead and to our right I could here a faint WAA – WAA. I turned to look at Sue and already little flash bulbs were going off in her eyes. We made quick plans because he was only about 125 to 150 yards out. Sue was to move ahead of me and I would stay behind and call him in past her. Lastly I yanked the rifle out of my pack and handed it to her. Now let me tell you, I’ve looked in those eyes a few times in my lifetime and have learned to read them pretty good, so I already knew what was coming when she said, “no, I’m shooting him with my bow”. As far as I was concerned Mr. Moose was already in the freezer, he was just taking his time getting there. When Sue was about 30 yards out in front I started calling back to him – WAA – WAA, and here he came, primed to do battle with this upstart who dared challenge him. All of a sudden I was happy I had the rifle with me. He was within Sues sight at 50 yards out when he stopped to simply trash some brush and small trees. This doesn’t help when your adrenaline is going faster then the limit allows anyway, and it was doing it’s work on my little wife. When he broke free from his thrashing he was on his way. At 22 yards I saw Sue start to draw and all of a sudden the arrow was heading for the north forty. All summer she had practiced drawing with her finger off the trigger of the release, but nothing had prepared her for what adrenaline can do to you. I saw her literally tear a second arrow from the quiver and nock it and at 14 yards she did the same thing again. First it was adrenaline alone, then it got mixed in with frustration, and now as she looked up at this stationary bull moose at 14 yards moving his head back and forth and rolling his eyes at her, she added the final ingredient, focus. He had taken a couple steps toward her when I, who couldn’t see him because of some trees, gave one more call and he turned to come toward me. At 11 yards she released an arrow at a very broad and large side and saw that it went home with only the fletching showing. The next thing I knew was I had a moose barreling down on me as he passed within eight feet of me as he went between the two of us. I didn’t get that on camera because, I’ll admit, I was reaching for the rifle again. When Sue got back to me she was one happy shook up gal. We spent the next 10 minutes or so blubbering all over as to what had just happened. Then reality sunk in, are we looking for a dead moose or a wounded moose? From what she could tell me of the hit I felt pretty confident we would be packing meat shortly.

After 15 minutes we started the tracking job and by the amount of blood and its color I was pretty sure it would be a short run. My favorite time came when Sue, who was 10 yards ahead of me trailing the blood sign, made a little turn in the trail, looked up, then slowly turned around and looked at me with one of the silliest looking grins I’ve ever seen on her face. I didn’t need to ask if she’d found him. He had left the trail and headed up the south facing slope when he ran out of blood and rolled down the hill and ended up in the middle of the trail. He was only 50-60 yards from where he and Sues arrow had collided.

I’ll guarantee you that smile is not just a surface smile, she was grinning all over.

To make short work of the rest of this story, seven hours later, with the help of Marta, we had Mr. Moose back in camp. It was starting to rain which is not good for meat, so we made a hasty decision to break camp in the rain and head home. By 7:00 PM we were wet but on our way and would pull into the driveway at 4:00 AM Saturday morning. It was interesting though, as soon as we hit cell phone service I noticed Sue started calling, and the first ones she called were her three boys and her dad, reliving and sharing, and they were all as excited as she was. When she was done with her calls she looked over at me and says, ‘for all these years I’ve listened to all you guys stories over and over again, and now I have my very own story to tell.’

No ones got a better one, and no one deserves it more!

Thank goodness for a pack horse that tolerated a new and terrifing smell to pack the moose out . Two trips and it was done. She was so good.