2012 BWCA Moose Hunt Story

[perchking]

Fantastic story... Can't wait for more.

[Scoot]

I couldn't agree more with the two posts above! Great stuff- you write well and take some great pics to support your writing. Keep it coming!!!

Please be sure to not shoot a moose too soon- this is too good to wrap up in the next day or two!

[NoWiser]

Day 5

Tuesday morning. This was our last chance at calling in a bull around the moose pond. While I felt confident this was a good area, the lack of moose sightings was discouraging and the lack of a cow calling in the area was even more discouraging. If there is a cow in the area, eventually a bull will pass by.

Anyways, we got positioned on our rock like the previous couple of days and my dad proceeded to let out his best cow calls. He probably made 4 sets of calls over 2 hours and was getting discouraged and second guessing his calling ability. He turned around and asked if we wanted to pack up and get ready to move camp. My uncle came down to sit right next to us and I whispered that he should give a few more calls and we should wait a bit longer before we gave up. He let out a 3 part cow call and we heard a twig snap, below and to the right of us. My heart almost stopped. We were concentrating on looking down there when I saw a grouse hop up on a branch. Dang! I turned around to tell him, when we heard another twig snap and a definite "UGGGHHHH" sound directly behind us. It was the one direction we weren't prepared to see a moose coming from. All three of us spun around, waiting to see what appeared. We could hear steady foot steps coming our way, and steady breathing. What was it?? Our question was answered in about 30 seconds when a bull appeard on top of the hill, walking right towards us. It came steadily closer until I started thinking about what it would feel like to get stepped on by a moose. It finally stopped and turned broadside, staring at the 3 funny looking bushes right in front of it. It was an absolutely incredible sight. Drool slobbering out of its jaw, it's breath steaming in the cool morning air. I could see the individual drops of water falling off of his hide from the heavy dew, his body steaming as the sun beat down on it, trying to dry him out. He was so close that we had to stare UP at him. While a good Minnesota bull at about 40" wide, it was soon obvious that my dad was going to pass on him. He was a young bull with small paddles, and we had 13 more days to hunt. At this time I decided I needed a picture of this beast, and my camera was laying on top of my backpack right next to me. I tried to move as slow as I could to grab it, but the bull caught the movement and trotted off. DANG!! He must have been [PoorWordUsage] we weren't a cow, because he stopped about 80 yards away and proceeded to beat the living snot out of a spruce tree. He was easily in rifle range for he next 10 minutes, which gave my dad a chance to look him over and solidify his decision to pass. We were all shaking like crazy! I told them to stay put and I would go to where the moose was standing and pace back to them. The bull was exactly 9 normal steps from where we were sitting, which works out to 8 or 9 yards. What a rush! It was just really unfortunate I was not ready to get a picture of him! As long as we were all on an adrenaline rush, we decided to canoe back to camp and get moving.

Here is a picture of Dad calling that morning.

We got to camp, ate some breakfast, and got everything packed up. It was time to move deeper into the BWCA and find a bigger bull. The area we were headed to was closer to where I hunted last year, but still a few lakes away. We were confident there would be moose around our next lake. We only had one portage to get there. Although it was fairly long, only the last 1/2 was bad. We had it done in no time. Here I am, loading my dad up with the canoe for the portage.

And here is my dad and I paddling across the next lake, looking for a campsite.

We found a nice island campsite, and then it was time to scout. Looking at our maps we found a big swamp surrounded by burn. We hiked through the burn to find it, and the swamp was mature spruce trees that survived the fire. The moose sign was THICK in the area. We decided this was as good of a spot to try as any, so we found a good calling location and sat down for the evening hunt. We talked amongst each other about what a great trip it was, and how cool it was to have all of this land to hunt, with no other people to worry about. Just about that time I was scanning the horizon with my binoculars when I saw two orange hats about a mile away, walking towards us. What the heck? We thought we were the only ones dumb enough to be that far back in. I figured they must be camping on the same lake as us, so I scurried down to the canoe and took off, looking for their camp or canoes. I wanted to talk to them to see what their plans were so that we wouldn't interfere with their hunt, and vice versa. After bucking the wind paddling around the lake, I could not locate any sign of them, so I returned to the others, and we hunted until dark without seeing anything.

Here is a view back to the lake through the burn we were hunting. There was quite a bit of smoke in the air from some fires burning across the border in Canada. It also gives you an idea of what it is like to walk through these areas.

And here is the sunset from the same location, right before we headed back to camp for another delicious Mountain House supper and a good night's sleep.

[NoWiser]

Thanks for the feedback, guys. To be continued tomorrow...

[Wes Ellis]

Grest story.

[nofishfisherman]

On your hunting travels in the BWCA have you seen much for deer activity? I've thought about doing a BWCA during deer opener but know the odds are stacked against me on that type of hunt.

Also that was an impressive catch on a Huck Finn style pole. Remind me again why we all go crazy for the latest and greatest technology.

[NoWiser]

Nofish,

On my moose hunt in 2011 we did not see so much as a single deer track. This past fall we saw a few tracks close to the entry point, but none back where we were moose hunting. We also didn't see or hear any wolves either year, which makes me think there aren't a whole ton of deer around. Perhaps the lack of deer and wolves is the reason there are so many moose in the area?

I think deer hunting in the BWCA could be an awesome trip, but it would take some research to find areas where the population is a bit higher. I'd make a call up to the DNR office in Tower and talk to Tom Rusch. He seems to have a really good handle on what's going on up in that area. I bet he could steer you in the right direction.

[DonBo]

Great story so far. Thanks for taking the time puting this together, believe me I know what's involved.

Also love the "Huck Finn" style fishing pole. Must be pretty exciting having an animal that big, that close huh?

[nofishfisherman]

I'll have to make a call up there to see what info he can provide. The trip may be a few years off since all 3 of us in my hunting group have pregnant wives with babies due this summer. Might make scouting trips and hunting trips a bite shorter the next year or two.

[Gordie]

Thanks, Nowiser that is a awsome stoy so far can't wait for the next day to resume the read.

[Rick G]

All I can say is wow! I just now found this thread. Very good read, and some pretty darn cool pic's too. Keep it coming

[Sifty]

Very cool and some great pics.

[paceman]

Outstanding Story and Pictures!

[NoWiser]

Day 6 - Wednesday

Without a backup spot on the lake we were staying on, we talked it over and decided our best bet was just to go right back to the same spot we hunted in the evening, do some calling, and then come up with a new game plan. We got set up as legal shooting time approached and my dad started his usual calling routine. Before long it became apparent that we would have some competition. Not from the other hunters, but from a real cow that we could hear bellowing about a mile west of us. Like I mentioned earlier, cows can be somewhat territorial, so my dad would match her calls hoping to bring her and a possible bull in. At times it sounded like she was heading in our direction, but as the morning went on her calls became more and more sporadic and finally ended.

With other hunters in the area, we needed a plan. Knowing they were not camped on the same lake as us, we figured they were two lakes south of us, the nearest with campsites. We would head down there mid day, find and talk to them, and then go scout a marshy lake that I have had my eye on since last season. I wanted to hunt there more than anything last year, but the warm weather and fire did not allow for it. So, we packed light, all 3 of us jumped into a canoe, and we portaged down to find the other hunters. Sure enough, we found them on the first campsite and talked to them for quite a while. They had seen some cows and calves, but no bulls up until that point. They said that they could hear bulls fighting at night, and one evening while paddling back to camp heard 4 of them fighting in one location. They had a great spot and were seeing good bull activity and didn't plan on moving. So, we told them we were heading one more lake down to do some scouting and we'd let them know what we found.

It was a grueling portage, but when we got to the next lake there was no question about it. Moose were there, and there were lots of them. I have never seen so much moose sign in my life. Everywhere you looked, there was moose tracks, moose scat, moose wallows. We found a campsite and 3 hunting locations (depending on the wind), and started making our way back to camp, prepared to come back the next day. On our way back we swung by the other hunters' camp and told them our plan. That evening we would hunt the same place we saw each other the day before. After that we would head down to a different lake further where we would be out of each other's way.

We got back to camp pretty worn out from the 6 portages that day and took advantage of the very warm weather by bathing, washing clothes, and relaxing. Pretty soon one of us said "hey, we should probably go moose hunting." It was later than we thought so we paddled down to our spot, got set up and ready to call. Then I looked to the east and sure enough, there were the other two hunters. Dang! We told them right where we would be hunting but I guess they wanted to hunt the same spot, too. My dad was pretty bummed out. I suggested, even though it was getting late, that we should hike back to the canoes, paddle a mile west, and do some calling where we heard the cow that morning. Who knows, maybe the cow called a bull in and he'd be waiting for us? I also mentioned that sometimes things that seem like a curse actually turn out to be a blessing. Not only that, but we had an awesome spot to hunt in the near future if this didn't pan out.

We paddled to the west shore, pulled the canoe up onto land, and began hiking up to the top of a ridge that we would follow away from the lake until it came to a finger about 1/2 mile inland. This would put us at least 1 1/2 miles from the other two hunters. It was brutal hiking through the rocks and deadfalls. I stopped my dad at one point and said "if you shoot a moose back here, it better be a BLEEPING big one! He agreed. We finally got to the end of the finger, and the view was awesome! The picture doesn't do it justice, but we felt like we were hunting out in the mountains somewhere instead of northern MN. There was still plenty of smoke in the air too. My dad let out a couple of cow calls

Within seconds we heard a very faint grunt coming from the south of us. It was a bull, but it sounded a long ways off. We quickly and quietly relocated to a spot about 100 yards farther south, that gave us a better view of where we thought the bull would be coming from. My dad made a couple more cow calls, and the faint grunting started again. It was coming from behind the ridge in this picture.

It sounded like the bull was getting closer, but soon the grunting stopped. My dad cow called again, and it started again. Uggghhh....Ugghh......Ughhh. But it just wasn't getting any closer. We had talked about possibly using bull grunts to tick off a hesitant bull after hearing about the other party's encounters with fighting bulls, so my dad let out 3 grunts of his own. This did NOT sit well with the bull. He got fired up and immediately headed right in our direction, and fast! My dad steadied the rifle on a rock, my eyes were glued to my binoculars, and our heartbeats were echoing off of the hills. Would it be a spike? Would it be another small one like the previous day? Would it be a giant? We knew we would have our answer in a matter of seconds....

[DonBo]

AND???????? Scoot, darn you for teaching him about commercial breaks!

[BRULEDRIFTER]

Wow! Awesome story so far, I'm sure it turns out well in the end, too.

You're a lucky guy NoWiser! To have the opportunity at not one, but 2 MN moose hunts, nearly back to back, is quite the lucky break. Also, your remote deer camps are something I envy as well. And to share them with your old man, to boot..... Awesome!

I wish I had some hard-core people that I knew that would be into doing trips like these as I would absolutely eat them up! Love it!

[Scoot]

AND???????? Scoot, darn you for teaching him about commercial breaks!

Bwaaaahahahahaha!

The good news is that I actually know how it ends. A huge bull comes over the ridge, charges the guys, and sadly, kills every last one of them. The end.

[NoWiser]

All of a sudden a bull appeared in my binoculars. It was a sight that will be burned into my memory forever. Not only was it a bull, it was a BIG bull, and it was NOT happy. Time seemed to slow down. It kept coming straight towards us, antlers swaying back and forth, looking for the little punk moose that was stealing his cow. He stopped about 90 yards away, looking right at us. I kept thinking to myself.....shoot....shoot....shoot. My dad was much more patient than I, though, and waited what seemed like minutes but was probably more like seconds, for the bull to turn broadside. When it did I had the binocs on it, and heard roar of his .270 WSM. I could see his hide rippling from the impact of the bullet. He just stood there like nothing happened. Knowing the bull was hit, and facing the opposite direction of the canoe, I hissed "shoot again, shoot again". He jacked another cartridge into the chamber, and shot one more time. At only 90 yards there was no question the shot was on target, but the bull showed no sign of being hit. He just stood there, still looking for the other moose. My dad, knowing he had two good hits, did not want to shoot anymore so we watched. After a bit the bull let out a couple of loud coughs. It started losing its balanced, walked about 20 yards, and tipped over. My dad had shot his Minnesota bull!! We were all 3 in shock of what just happened. My uncle and I were so excited that we didn't know what to do with ourselves, and for some reason just started taking pictures of each other!!

We eventually calmed down a little and grabbed our stuff to hike over to the moose. This is what we found.

Here is one with just my dad and I.

Anyone who has shot a moose knows that with the excitement comes a certain sense of foreboding. This feeling is multiplied exponentially when you shoot one in the middle of the BWCA, and then again when you shoot one as the sun is dipping below the western horizon. We had a lot of work to do, and we knew it. The first order of business was to take the samples for the DNR moose study. This went very quickly due to my experience doing it the previous year. We sent my uncle back to camp with all of our extra gear, and he would return with pack frames and anything we needed to care for the meat. My dad and I would get to work immediately butchering the moose. Using the gutless method, we moved right along and had him quartered and the backstraps removed before my uncle returned.

Here I am with one of the oversized backstraps.

It was soon apparant that there was no possibly way we were packing the moose back to the canoe in the dark. It was going to be a challenging enough hike without 80 pound packs on our back. So, while I took care of getting the tenderloins, heart, rib, and neck meat removed from the carcass, the other two built a crib to get the meat sacks off the ground to cool.

Not knowing what the weather would be like, we decided to tent the meat off. Too much moisture can cause the meat to spoil faster, so we needed to keep it dry, yet maintain air flow around it to cool.

By about 10:00 p.m. we had done as much as we could do. Luckily my uncle had enough foresight to flag the trail back to the canoe and take a compass bearing from there back to camp so we were able to get back without too much trouble. We had double rations of Mountain House before bed, and had no trouble sleeping, despite the knowledge that the fun part of the hunt was over. We had work ahead of us, and lots of it.

[DonBo]

That was WAY better than Scoots ending! Awesome, just awesome!

[TylerS]

H-O-L-Y-C-R-A-P! What a pulse-stopper! And gorgeous moose, too! I can't imagine participating in such an all-in activity as that. You gotta have some serious backwoods fortitude to succeed.

Congrats!!! Can't wait to hear how the journey back was...

[nofishfisherman]

I can't imagine packing that beast out of that mess. When I was in the BWCA on my last trip I did a little bushwhacking through an older burn area and it was a nightmare. The area I was in looked very similar to what these photos show but with a bit more bush grown up as the fire area I was in was probably a little older.

How far of a trek did you have to the canoes?

[NoWiser]

Day 7 - Thursday

We awoke as the sun slowly rose above the eastern horizon. The pressure of finding, calling, and shooting a bull was lifted off of our backs, but we were all too aware that it was soon to be replaced with the weight of moose quarters strapped to our packs and the duty we had to get the meat back in good condition. In talking to our fellow hunters the day before who had a weather radio, we were aware that we were under a winter weather advisory. Beyond that, we had no details. The morning was fairly calm, so we prepped camp for the meat we were to be bringing back, and set out to retrieve it. Before too long we were back at the kill site. Due to the ruggedness of the terrain, we each cut ourselves a stout walking stick, loaded our packs, and headed back towards the lake. The going was very tough through the burn. Head high brush, standing and fallen timber, rocks of every shape and size, and a smattering of yellow jacket nests which we had to mark and avoid.

Here are my dad and I almost back to the lake with our first load. The front quarters.

The three of us got our first load to the canoes and returned to the kill. My uncle and I each strapped on a rear quarter and headed back to the canoe, while my dad began to cut the antlers off of the massive head. We returned just as he finished up, and between the three of us were able to strap everything else onto our packs, and make our final trip back to the canoe, pulling the flagging tape as we went. This was far from an easy hike, but we were rested up well, and finished with no issues. My dad proudly carried the antlers on the last trip, and never left them out of his sight from that point on.

We made it back to camp and had planned on deboning and peppering all of the meat at that point, but the wind was picking up from the SE. We had the two biggest lakes right ahead of us and had to paddle to the north side of each of them. We decided that when the storm hit and wind switched, we would be out of luck, so decided to quickly pack up camp and put on some miles. Before long we were at our first portage. It was long, but 1/2 way through it it flattened out wasn't too bad. We had it done in short order and took off paddling. I was by myself in the smaller canoe loaded down with all of the meat, and with the wind at my back, decided to head right down the center of it. I'm absolutely 100% positive that I set a record for crossing that lake solo with a canoe full of moose. By the time I got to the north side, I was practically surfing on the whitecaps. I hit shore full steam, ready for portage #2 for the day. This one seemed easy a week earlier, but this time around it was a whole different ball game. It may have been short, but it was steep. We were all pretty well spent when we finished the portage. It was about 2:00 p.m., the temperature was dropping FAST, and the wind switched to the NW and was roaring. Our options were to either camp on this lake, or to keep paddling. But, the next campsite was 3 lakes and 4 portages away. It really wasn't an option. We needed to stay on that lake. Here I am with the loaded canoes after the 2nd portage.

We landed the canoes at the closest campsite and quickly hung and covered the meat, set up the tent, and crawled into our sleeping bags for warmth. It was only 4:00 but it was going to be our bed time. It was too cold and windy to sit outside. It was hard to imagine that only a day earlier I was walking around camp shirtless, washing my clothes. Our supper that night consisted of candy bars and Tylenol PM. Even so, it was hard for me to get any sleep. I could hear trees falling down around us, and I just layed there, praying nothing would land on the tent.

[NoWiser]

Day 8 - Friday

Everytime I woke up the night before, I kept expecting to hear the wind dying down and the moon to make an appearance. That was not the case. The wind in the morning was every bit as strong as when we went to bed, and we could hear the sleet and rain hitting the tent. I crawled out to take a leak, and this is what I found.

Sorry about the blurry picture. I may have been shivering a little bit.

We talked about it and decided that we would be nuts to try to paddle in this weather. The meat was nice and cool and in great shape and there was no reason to be in a hurry. We popped a few more Tylenol PMs and fell back asleep. And that is how the day went. We'd wake up, look at maps, eat some tortillas or candy bars, drink a bit of water, and fall back asleep. Day turned into night, and we stayed hunkered down. It was too miserable to be outside, so the only other option was our sleeping bags. Before this trip, I invested in a really good, inflatable, goose down insulated sleeping pad. This thing is more comfortable than my own bed, and was worth every penny for this trip along.

Here is my dad making his favorite snack, butter on a tortilla, while we were stuck in the tent.

[Scoot]

I totally agree, DonBo- that's WAY better than the ending I wrote above. Great stuff, Jim!!!

[NoWiser]

Day 9 - Saturday

After spending 40 straight hours in our sleeping bags, we were ready to be on the move in anything less than a hurricane. Luckily, the wind had subsided and conditions were pretty decent. Our biggest fear now were the wet rocks on the portages. We had 8 to do, including the worst 3 of the trip, and "bleeping portage #6" was the second one.

Not many words were said this day. We all knew what we had to do, and we just put our heads down and did it. This is where all of the mornings at the gym every day before work paid off. We were hit by a couple of snow squawls throughout the day.

And the two portages that weren't steep rocks were mud.

Here is my dad with a typical load for a portage.

Every portage required 7 trips across it. 4 were loaded down, and three were return trips to get more gear. In total we did 9 miles that last day of portaging along. Close to 6 of those were loaded down with between 70 and 100 pounds on our backs. We packed up camp when the sun was rising, and were coasting into the landin just as the sun hit the tops of the trees. We did not stop to rest once all day. We ate candy bars and drank water on our return trips on the portages. I don't know that my legs have ever felt so dead, but I don't know that I have ever felt so alive. It was an incredible feeling knowing what we accomplished, and we were all still smiles when we got to the trucks.

Here I am on the home stretch

Here is my dad and uncle coasting into shore at the landing.

Soon we had the trucks packed up and it was time to head back to civilization, but not before one last picture.

We started the long drive home, but had time to stop for our first real meal in days, and an ice cold beverage to celebrate the trip of a lifetime.