Moose Hunting Blues

On Saturday, I left the house at 7:20 am to go moose hunting. Initially, I wanted to go upriver but the Lund battery was not charged. I was so frustrated because I was all packed and ready. I had high hopes of seeing a bull along the river because it was early morning and everyone else would still be sleeping. I had no time to waste so I got on my Honda and drove up the road.

Along the way, I bumped into Guam and we decided to partner up to look for Bullwinkle. We drove past North River Bridge and took a right and walked a path. There were moose turds on the path, but we could not call a bull out so we left. Guam and I drove the tundra before White Alice and still no luck. After we returned to the road, we parted ways. I took off for VOR. Once I got to VOR, I drove the tundra behind Oliver Hill. There is a pond behind Oliver Hill that looks like viable moose country. I sat there a good two hours and attempted to call out a moose, but I was unsuccessful.

A slight breeze made the tree leaves bristle.  I snacked on slightly sweet and tart blueberries while I sat and waited. The tundra was covered in frost. All I heard were the sounds of boats driving up the river and the tweets of birds flying around. A spruce hen flew out of the bush and gave me a good fright. The sky was blue and there was not a cloud in sight. Blueberry leaves covered the tops of my bunny boots.

I had my moose call in hand. My throat was getting sore from trying to make my voice deeper. Calling moose is hard for a soprano. I hoped that nobody was around to hear my sad attempt to call moose. I’m sure I scared the moose away rather than called it in. I’m just glad I didn’t call in a bear. Would I shoot a bear? I would if it meant my life was on the line. Since my moose call was not working, I opened my moose call app on my phone and tried it. It also was an unsuccessful approach. 

I tend to think too much sometimes. As I sat and waited for the unlikely presence of a bull moose, I started to ponder who the first person was to eat blueberries and how they knew they were not poisonous. Then I started to wonder who made the first gun and how they knew where to shoot a moose to kill it. Then I started to think, “If I shot a moose over here, it would be such a troubling haul to bring it up the hill.” That’s when I decided I was in a bad spot for moose hunting. I left my spot and drove back home. I had to recollect my thoughts and refuel.

These are just pictures from a handful of times I went out berrypicking. Cassidy is a pretty good hunting partner. 

 

Moose hunting makes me anxious because we are given a quota. Once we get closer and closer to reaching it, you start asking around, “Who all caught?” You scroll through social media looking for moose pictures then you are relieved to only see people in other communities catching. This gives you slight hope that your time will be next. I’m still trying. Seems like some people have all the luck. They go upriver and don’t have to go far and a bull just swims across the river saying, "shoot me. shoot me." Easy kill there. All I see when I go out are darn cows. I feel as blue as the blueberries. I think we have another 10 days left and the moose are starting to move more with the colder weather. My time will come. Stay tuned…