2006 Hunting Stories & Photo Thread
- Thread starter Crash
- Start date
Scooter7779h
PATRON
Anchorage, Alaska
Nice Bullwinkle Crash!!
I am going to have to do the fishing end of this as I don't hunt anymore:
I am going to have to do the fishing end of this as I don't hunt anymore:
duckhunter
Registered User
greenville, ms
hunting thread
great moose, best thing i see is the good place to land close to the meat, last hunt i went on i had to pack meat for 5 miles, after that i was real carefull about where i hunted
great moose, best thing i see is the good place to land close to the meat, last hunt i went on i had to pack meat for 5 miles, after that i was real carefull about where i hunted
RedEye
Registered User
Side Lake , MN
Great idea Crash !! Now if only my komputer skills would allow me to post a picture !!! :x :x :x
Got some great photos of turkey hunting this spring, grouse hunting this fall and one of an 18 lb northern pike Amy caught. Oh well !! Maybe some day I'll figure it out !!!
Got some great photos of turkey hunting this spring, grouse hunting this fall and one of an 18 lb northern pike Amy caught. Oh well !! Maybe some day I'll figure it out !!!
tptailwheel
Registered User
vermillion sd
hey dave, just ask your house guest.
TOM
TOM
Nathan K. Hammond
Registered User
Danville, KY DVK
This is my brother-in-law, who's about the size of a tank (6'5" & 320lbs) with his first Moose. After talking to him in person, I think he realized Alaska is a very unforgiving place. You know how you gain about 50 hours experience instantly when you groundloop or do something really stupid; well I think Cory gained about 5 years experience on life from this trip!
Cory with the Beast
Brian (the guide) with the rack. 62" across.
Here's the story he sent me:
........................................................................................................
Bryan pulled onto Eielson AFB about 7am the next morning with enough gear to stay in the wilderness for 6 months. Shortly after we ribbed Adrian a little for not being able to go, then set off down 160 miles of gravel that led to our hunting camp. After unloading the ATV’s we were ready to do some scouting. We averaged 40 miles per day traveling the old gold mining roads, and glassing from hilltops to try and find a bull moose that was accessible in the swampy tundra landscape. We crossed paths with beaver, river otter, and moose cows and calves for the first 5 days without seeing sign of any bulls. I was beginning to get frustrated and depressed about the feeling of going home empty handed after all the talk leaving Kentucky about bringing home all the tasty meat and big horns. I really didn’t want to tell that story when I got home! But relentless in our quest for the big stinky beast we headed out again on Tuesday morning the 12th of September. We glassed again from a hillside and gave up early due to atypical warm weather that made the big boys lay low in the cover during the day. So off we go again on the ATV’s looking for some larger more overgrown cover; you know…where we would go if we were a moose. Eleven miles from camp we found it. You could not put your boot on the ground without stepping in a moose track. Bryan and I looked at each other and didn’t have to say anything, we knew this was it and we were staying until it was time to pee on the fire and call the dogs. Well this was 11:30 and we had already built an appetite. This is where the bad starts. Opening the lid of the action packer we unveiled the horror of the situation we put ourselves in. We had planned on going back to camp for lunch so we found no water, no food, no skinning knives, and no camera. Just like Harrison Ford said in 6 days 7 nights ”if you don’t bring it here, you won’t find it here.” But the area was too good and we were sticking with it. Surrounded by small ponds and a mud Waller where the moose had covered the same ground over and over we couldn’t bring ourselves to leave. The day went by s-l-o-w-l-y until finally the sun crept across the sky and began to sink below the rocky tops of the hills above and I was just about to give up and go home. I was tired, hungry, and thirsty, I had the smell of a wild beast, and I had conceded to the harsh beating that days of hard hunting had dealt me. What hurt the most is there was nothing to show for it but worn out boots. Bryan feels the same and beats a tag alder out of frustration with the oil can we had been using to mimic the sound of a small bull rubbing the brushy tundra. Minutes later we were both surprised to hear an answer to our hastily rigged moose call. It was a bull, closing hard and ready to run that little bull out of his territory. We kept the wind in our favor and helped him close the distance. With every step this bull became more ferocious, beating and bashing, and grunting his way to our location. Finally I see paddles, but no body. You can’t expect to do anything but decrease his Boone & Crockett potential by shooting the growth on his head; This was 20 yards away and he was not a happy bull. I took the safety off my .375 H&H and Bryan pulled the .454 pistol from his side and the bull decided to come down the horse trail to our right. At a grand total of 7 yards I squeezed the trigger and the bull ran back the way he came and piled up 30 yards away. Oh the jubilation!
Little did we know our luck had literally changed and ran out all in one fleeting moment. We did find an old beat up 35 mm leftover from Bryan’s sheep hunt in the pack and took some pictures. Then the fun began. Two minutes into skinning this bull my knife slips and finds its way into my right leg. Now I am feeling incredibly stupid and bleeding. The sun found its way to the horizon just as we removed the cape and horns and onto the ATV’s with the meat. On the way back one of them slips a chain and we had to take meat off one and double back for some tools. The Ugly part of this story hasn’t yet begun! We fix the quad and while making our way back to camp I put a stick into the radiator of my transportation. Luckily we had made it through the swamps and onto hard ground and towed it back to camp. Now the only thing left is the head. We have one four-wheeler on its last leg and I have to go back alone to retrieve it. I tried to pack light taking only the tools to fix the chain, a bottle of water, and an MRE….just in case!
Here I am now at the kill site and have to manage a way to put this 300 lb. chunk of horns and cape onto the ATV and strap it down. Let me add that this is no easy task, even though I am a 6’5” 320lb. former left tackle for the University of Kentucky. I start to pull away with my trophy and the ugly starts. Ten feet into the trip home the chain slips again. Naturally in a muddy bog we had made traveling through it several times. So I dig out enough mud to reach the chain tension and repair this piece of junk one more time. Off and running again; for about 200 yards… Hung up again I pulled the winch cable and put it around the closest thing I could find; a bush that I could have pulled out of the ground; put in my carry-on luggage and replanted when I got back to Kentucky. But it was just enough to get me out of the hole and running again for another hundred yards or so. Stuck again! But this time the winch has taken a dump and will not work. My boots started crying because they knew the only way we were getting back to camp was walk the 11 miles minus the 3 or 400 yards we had made it back. Soaking wet from my boots to my chest I started the walk. By this time the sun was getting heavy again and the temperature was dropping. I knew if I stopped Bryan would find me the next day and put me in a box either due to a hungry bear or hypothermia. One way would have obviously required a smaller box. Now it’s dark, 6 miles into the walk and no flashlight; just a pistol, a bottle of water and my boots. Not more than a mile later I stumbled over some grouse in the trail and nearly caused my certain death to be inflicted by a heart attack. Luck had to change again…just had to. It did, exactly 8.3 miles into the walk I was picked up by another group of hunters who clocked the remaining distance back to camp and told me how far I had walked. They even went back to the junk pile of an ATV I left on the trail and retrieved my first trophy bull moose. The only gratuity they would accept was a promise to return the favor some day.
Cory T. Holman
............................................................................................
nkh
Cory with the Beast
Brian (the guide) with the rack. 62" across.
Here's the story he sent me:
........................................................................................................
Bryan pulled onto Eielson AFB about 7am the next morning with enough gear to stay in the wilderness for 6 months. Shortly after we ribbed Adrian a little for not being able to go, then set off down 160 miles of gravel that led to our hunting camp. After unloading the ATV’s we were ready to do some scouting. We averaged 40 miles per day traveling the old gold mining roads, and glassing from hilltops to try and find a bull moose that was accessible in the swampy tundra landscape. We crossed paths with beaver, river otter, and moose cows and calves for the first 5 days without seeing sign of any bulls. I was beginning to get frustrated and depressed about the feeling of going home empty handed after all the talk leaving Kentucky about bringing home all the tasty meat and big horns. I really didn’t want to tell that story when I got home! But relentless in our quest for the big stinky beast we headed out again on Tuesday morning the 12th of September. We glassed again from a hillside and gave up early due to atypical warm weather that made the big boys lay low in the cover during the day. So off we go again on the ATV’s looking for some larger more overgrown cover; you know…where we would go if we were a moose. Eleven miles from camp we found it. You could not put your boot on the ground without stepping in a moose track. Bryan and I looked at each other and didn’t have to say anything, we knew this was it and we were staying until it was time to pee on the fire and call the dogs. Well this was 11:30 and we had already built an appetite. This is where the bad starts. Opening the lid of the action packer we unveiled the horror of the situation we put ourselves in. We had planned on going back to camp for lunch so we found no water, no food, no skinning knives, and no camera. Just like Harrison Ford said in 6 days 7 nights ”if you don’t bring it here, you won’t find it here.” But the area was too good and we were sticking with it. Surrounded by small ponds and a mud Waller where the moose had covered the same ground over and over we couldn’t bring ourselves to leave. The day went by s-l-o-w-l-y until finally the sun crept across the sky and began to sink below the rocky tops of the hills above and I was just about to give up and go home. I was tired, hungry, and thirsty, I had the smell of a wild beast, and I had conceded to the harsh beating that days of hard hunting had dealt me. What hurt the most is there was nothing to show for it but worn out boots. Bryan feels the same and beats a tag alder out of frustration with the oil can we had been using to mimic the sound of a small bull rubbing the brushy tundra. Minutes later we were both surprised to hear an answer to our hastily rigged moose call. It was a bull, closing hard and ready to run that little bull out of his territory. We kept the wind in our favor and helped him close the distance. With every step this bull became more ferocious, beating and bashing, and grunting his way to our location. Finally I see paddles, but no body. You can’t expect to do anything but decrease his Boone & Crockett potential by shooting the growth on his head; This was 20 yards away and he was not a happy bull. I took the safety off my .375 H&H and Bryan pulled the .454 pistol from his side and the bull decided to come down the horse trail to our right. At a grand total of 7 yards I squeezed the trigger and the bull ran back the way he came and piled up 30 yards away. Oh the jubilation!
Little did we know our luck had literally changed and ran out all in one fleeting moment. We did find an old beat up 35 mm leftover from Bryan’s sheep hunt in the pack and took some pictures. Then the fun began. Two minutes into skinning this bull my knife slips and finds its way into my right leg. Now I am feeling incredibly stupid and bleeding. The sun found its way to the horizon just as we removed the cape and horns and onto the ATV’s with the meat. On the way back one of them slips a chain and we had to take meat off one and double back for some tools. The Ugly part of this story hasn’t yet begun! We fix the quad and while making our way back to camp I put a stick into the radiator of my transportation. Luckily we had made it through the swamps and onto hard ground and towed it back to camp. Now the only thing left is the head. We have one four-wheeler on its last leg and I have to go back alone to retrieve it. I tried to pack light taking only the tools to fix the chain, a bottle of water, and an MRE….just in case!
Here I am now at the kill site and have to manage a way to put this 300 lb. chunk of horns and cape onto the ATV and strap it down. Let me add that this is no easy task, even though I am a 6’5” 320lb. former left tackle for the University of Kentucky. I start to pull away with my trophy and the ugly starts. Ten feet into the trip home the chain slips again. Naturally in a muddy bog we had made traveling through it several times. So I dig out enough mud to reach the chain tension and repair this piece of junk one more time. Off and running again; for about 200 yards… Hung up again I pulled the winch cable and put it around the closest thing I could find; a bush that I could have pulled out of the ground; put in my carry-on luggage and replanted when I got back to Kentucky. But it was just enough to get me out of the hole and running again for another hundred yards or so. Stuck again! But this time the winch has taken a dump and will not work. My boots started crying because they knew the only way we were getting back to camp was walk the 11 miles minus the 3 or 400 yards we had made it back. Soaking wet from my boots to my chest I started the walk. By this time the sun was getting heavy again and the temperature was dropping. I knew if I stopped Bryan would find me the next day and put me in a box either due to a hungry bear or hypothermia. One way would have obviously required a smaller box. Now it’s dark, 6 miles into the walk and no flashlight; just a pistol, a bottle of water and my boots. Not more than a mile later I stumbled over some grouse in the trail and nearly caused my certain death to be inflicted by a heart attack. Luck had to change again…just had to. It did, exactly 8.3 miles into the walk I was picked up by another group of hunters who clocked the remaining distance back to camp and told me how far I had walked. They even went back to the junk pile of an ATV I left on the trail and retrieved my first trophy bull moose. The only gratuity they would accept was a promise to return the favor some day.
Cory T. Holman
............................................................................................
nkh
cubflier
MEMBER
Palmer, AK
For those of you that took moose this year there is a serious issue with a spinal virus, predominantly in moose, that can make humans deathly ill. It affects the meat surrounding lower area of the spine only.
I am a member of an outdoor hunting organization that is cooperating with federal health authorities to investigate the cause and stop the spread of this potentially deadly "spinorynoverticulitis" virus.
You will need to send me samples, say a package or two, of any meat taken from the lower spinal region (commonly referred to as backstrap or tenderloin) so I can forward it to the proper authorities for analysis.
Thanks for your cooperation.
Oh - and nice pictures by the way. Kinda makes me wish I still hunted those big guys.
Jerry
I am a member of an outdoor hunting organization that is cooperating with federal health authorities to investigate the cause and stop the spread of this potentially deadly "spinorynoverticulitis" virus.
You will need to send me samples, say a package or two, of any meat taken from the lower spinal region (commonly referred to as backstrap or tenderloin) so I can forward it to the proper authorities for analysis.
Thanks for your cooperation.
Oh - and nice pictures by the way. Kinda makes me wish I still hunted those big guys.
Jerry
harneymaki
Registered User
Esko, Minnesota
David,
For some reason this Cub looks familiar.
Sorry I couldn't make it up last weekend. I talked to Kevin this morning and he said the wings are on the front burner. Work is slowing down so I hope to make some good progress soon.
For some reason this Cub looks familiar.
Sorry I couldn't make it up last weekend. I talked to Kevin this morning and he said the wings are on the front burner. Work is slowing down so I hope to make some good progress soon.
scout88305
SPONSOR
Northern Minnesota
Minchumina Moose (I didn't shoot it)
Torch
GONE WEST
Fairbanks, Alaska
I took a cow in the Tanana Flats again this year. My parter and his son go with me. We took 3 moose the first 4 days of the season. My partner had an Any Bull Tag and he took a 32 inch bull the first morning of the season. His son took a 3 brow tine 44 inch bull the second day and I took a cow the 4th day. I do have to say that a young cow is the best eating moose I have ever had. I have taken one the last two years. The only pic I have of this year's hunt is my partner's son with his rack and the TORCH.
scout88305
SPONSOR
Northern Minnesota
JOEY THE PROP DOG WITH A GROUSE
MY FISHING PARTNER AT LAKE OF THE WOODS :lol:
MY FISHING PARTNER AT LAKE OF THE WOODS :lol:
