7mm08mo
Well-known member
Good luck.
516-50 Montana Moose Ride-a-long
- Thread starter YoungGun
- Start date
Southern Elk
Well-known member
I think you packed enough shoes! Good luck!
ElkHunter11
New member
Haha I was thinking the same thing; you can never be too overly prepared! Good luck YoungGun.
Montana Advocate
Active member
- Joined
- Sep 24, 2014
- Messages
- 70
Good luck!
I saw a good bull on a goat scouting trip in late July up Bridge Creek, in case you find yourself in that area. He was about 4 miles in.
I saw a good bull on a goat scouting trip in late July up Bridge Creek, in case you find yourself in that area. He was about 4 miles in.
Thanks for the well wishes! Came into service to resupply before the weather sets in over the weekend. 2nd full day in the books today brought our first opportunity. The dropper bull from the 4th of July scouting weekend has moved 15ish miles since then, and we found him today. Full draw at 37 yards, but decided to see what the rest of our first week has in store for us. Enjoying the hunt to much to end it this soon! Here's a few photos of photos. Headed back in through Tuesday, hoping for dry weather, or colder temps to bring the snow. This in between stuff they call rain isn't as fun. 
7mm08mo
Well-known member
Cool stuff man!! Don't know that I could have held off.
MooseCaboose
Active member
- Joined
- Aug 6, 2014
- Messages
- 498
I don't think I could have held off. Since I will be out hunting Moose here in a week, can anyone help give me a crash course in Moose field judging and scoring? I'm hoping for a respectable trophy and I can tell a big moose from a smaller one, but I don't really know the fine points of how they are scored and what to look for?
Nameless Range
Well-known member
YoungGun, looks like you are having some great hunts. I'm really enjoying this thread following you along. Thanks for sharing and keep us posted.
Just my opinion, but I would not worry about how moose are scored. If you can tell a big one from a smaller one then you'll probably know when one is big enough for you to be satisfied. I would say that some of the moose we've seen lately on HuntTalk are outliers, and may distort our perception a bit. Any moose is a beautiful trophy. I had a moose tag in SW Montana a few years ago. I was told leading up to the season to not be too picky, and I went into the season with that attitude largely because I had scouted numerous weekends during the summer and saw nothing. It turned out alright for me, but more due to luck than anything. Keep in mind that in a couple weeks as the rut winds down it will become much more difficult to locate bulls. I would just enjoy your hunt and appreciate the fact that in Montana as time goes on a moose hunt may be trending towards a once in a lifetime experience. Enjoy it and good luck!
Just my opinion, but I would not worry about how moose are scored. If you can tell a big one from a smaller one then you'll probably know when one is big enough for you to be satisfied. I would say that some of the moose we've seen lately on HuntTalk are outliers, and may distort our perception a bit. Any moose is a beautiful trophy. I had a moose tag in SW Montana a few years ago. I was told leading up to the season to not be too picky, and I went into the season with that attitude largely because I had scouted numerous weekends during the summer and saw nothing. It turned out alright for me, but more due to luck than anything. Keep in mind that in a couple weeks as the rut winds down it will become much more difficult to locate bulls. I would just enjoy your hunt and appreciate the fact that in Montana as time goes on a moose hunt may be trending towards a once in a lifetime experience. Enjoy it and good luck!
For me, I wanted a good representation of the species for the area I was hunting. The drop time bull has a big frame, but I've always loved the paddles on moose and the palmated fronts, so that's what I was looking for. Lucky enough to have found that Thursday night. I held off on a very doable archery shot due to the rain and fading light. Kicked myself all night, all Friday, and into Saturday. Got redemption on Saturday and I've been eating moose since! More to come once I go through some photos and get the hide dropped off.
duckhunt
Well-known member
Patiently waiting for the story and pics.
Frenchy
Well-known member
Sweet! Congrats YoungGun!
Just finished cutting the last of the meat, and dropped the head off to be euro'd and the hide off to be tanned. If you've followed along with the posts from earlier, than you know that the drop tine bull was the biggest bull I saw in the unit all summer, and going in to the hunt I'd seen or had trail cam pictures of 10 moose, 5 of which were bulls. So my expectations for the hunt were to continue to see goofy antlered bulls with thin paddles and single fronts that were decently wide. I hoped to find a bull with double fronts and paddles, putting more of an emphasis on paddles than anything else; personal preference.
Monday I set up camp just south of the Beaver ponds along the Main Boulder River at Big Beaver Campground. I hiked the shale slope and glassed and called, but was unable to turn anything up. There was fresh sign in the meadows, so I figured it was a place to start anyway.
I met my camping neighbors, a very kind gentleman from Billings and his Nephew from South Dakota, Zach. Zach had never hunted elk before and was having a tough go of it when I met him, so I pointed him to a few areas closer by where I had seen elk or elk sign while scouting for moose, and asked him to keep an eye out for moose on his hunts. We hit it off, and I was glad to have an extra set of eyes in the area for me. Isaac rolled in that night, and we made a plan for Tuesday, our first full day of hunting, as the rain moved in.
The first day we decided would be best spent covering country in all of the moose looking areas along the boulder and checking for sign while hoping to run into a bull. We started by checking the beaver ponds and their meadows. We worked north from camp and paralleled the river along the west, deciding to head to Falls creek campground. The game trail we ended up on had fresh moose tracks cruising north as well, so we followed them to the campground and the road, where the moose decided to head south on the road. We followed them back south until they crossed a fence onto private. We then systematically hiked the most obvious meadows we could find along the boulder, working south. We found more recent sign at Trout lake, but other than that, we didn't see anything to get really excited about. We made sure to set some sand traps along the trails in hopes to see where the moose were moving. When we got back to camp, Zach told us a caretaker he ran into had seen a "big moose" over in the West Boulder, adding a bit of excitement to the close of the day.
Day two was more of the same, checking sand traps, hiking meadows that we had missed the day before, and trying to stay dry from the rain and the 4-6 river crossings we were doing per day.
As we were driving to another meadow, Isaac spotted the dropper bull bedded on private right off the road. It was a small parcel of land, so we made a game plan to make a move and use the bull as a learning tool at the least. I wasn't sold on shooting him, especially so early in our hunt. We moved the 400 yards on national forest, and got to a spot where we could see him. We cow called, and the bull, now 150-200 yards away, stared, but did not react. After a few slow minutes, I decided to take the beef scapula and go rake some trees, out of sight, while Isaac kept an eye on the bull. After moving a hundred yards, a grunted and began tearing up a small pine tree with the scapula. Not 30 seconds later Isaac came running and told me the bull was coming. We set up, and continued raking, bringing the bull into archery range, before he held up. After trying different calling techniques to test reactions, I decided I wanted to see how spooky a bull was, so I walked right at him. I got to 37 yards, and came to full draw, mainly to see how it felt. The bull looked at me, lowering his head slightly. After a few grunts from me, he turned broadside. We decided we weren't going to shoot this bull, even though he was the biggest we'd seen in a summer of scouting, until we checked on the rumor in the West Boulder, so we backed out before we spooked him out of the area.
The fun was just beginning, and I wanted another encounter!
We decided the afternoon would be best spent talking with the caretaker himself, and piled our wet gear and selves into the truck for the short drive. The man we met can only be described as the man himself. He's never owned a cellphone, makes coffee strong enough to take the hair OFF your chest, seemingly knows of every critter between the Boulder and the West Boulder, decided he wanted to shoot a wolf for each nephew, and subsequently filled his 5 wolf tags in 2 days, with his 30-06 no less (we saw the pelts and the pictures to prove the story), and while describing the fire that scorched the West Boulder a decade ago, said "I grabbed my saddle, my dogs, my sheds, and my gun, and said 'F this!, I'm outta here'". After brief introductions, the caretaker put on his pack boots, an orange vest, and told us we were going for a ride, saying "I've never been Moose hunting!"
After getting the 'socked in' grand tour from the caretaker and not turning anything up, we headed back to his place. He said years ago, the Moose were thick in the unit, and he had paddles to show some of the size that was achieved in the past. He figured loss of habitat from Fire, predation from the bears and wolves, and brain disease were the culprits for the demise since then. We sat around a metal stove, downing a few strong cups of joe, and the story telling continued. The old care taker told us of days when he took his snowmobile from the West Boulder to Cooke City, no GPS, no Gore tex, just wool clothes and the hope you didn't get caught, and tales of antler poachers taking pack strings of sheds out of Yellowstone through Slough Creek, over the Boulder Divide, and out the Boulder, filling up flatbeds with their illegal bounty. The conversation was easy, as Isaac and I sat enthralled, soaking in what decades of living in a seeming paradise had taught the old man. Soon, the photo album came out to show us this giant bull moose. Turns out, it was the biggest moose the caretaker had seen in "20 years". Biggest bodied... With a stomach of coffee grounds and minds chewing over all the info we had learned over the previous 6 hours, we reluctantly left the caretaker to head back to camp.
When we arrived at camp, we were pleasantly surprised to find a friend, Austin, had dropped in to join us on our hunt for a day, prior to heading off on an elk hunt. He had elk steaks cooking on the fire from his recent Wyoming elk, and with the friendship came a late night, and with the late night, came a fast morning. Knowing what the caretaker had seen made sleep tougher that night, I wondered if I should have shot the bull with the drop tine. I decided if I saw him again, I would probably not pass on him. He was wide and unique, and we had a history.
Day 3: We decided our best strategy was to drive the road quick, checking for fresh tracks, and then check out a meadow a grouse hunter from New York had told us he had seen moose in in the past. We hiked the meadow, turning up lots of moose sign, but all very old.
We went about checking our sand traps, and didn't turn up anything. We went in for a late lunch and ran across Zach. He showed us a blurry picture on his phone taken through his binos of a bull and a cow moose that he had passed on his way out from elk hunting earlier. Zach mentioned in passing that when he had seen the pair, there had been a small black bear harassing them. I got the coordinates for the location he had been when he spotted them, and then Austin packed up and left for his hunt. Ike and I decided that the slope Zach had mentioned was worth a quick glassing session, and headed north. Within a few minutes of stepping out of the truck, Ike said he saw a black wolf running down the slope. I ranged it, and started pulling my rifle off my pack in case we could make a move on it. Isaac set up his spotter, and we found out it was just a very small, very skinny black bear. Before any disappointment could set in, Isaac said he spotted a bull moose. Less than 100 yards from the bear was a bull moose with a cow. From a half mile out, he looked good enough for a closer look. The bear that Zach had seen seemed to still be thinking he was friends with the moose.
I grabbed my bow and my rifle, and we were off. As we ran up the mountain side, the rain began to fall. I had last seen the couple moving down the mountain, in a small draw. Isaac had seen them moving south, across the hillside towards a stand of aspens. The wind was coming down off the mountain, and blowing a little south, so we circled out to the south, and slowed down, keeping the aspens to our north. We listened, and couldn't hear anything, so we moved further up the hill. The rain was now a soaking, constant drizzle. We cut north through the aspens, and came out in the draw where the pair had been. Isaac spotted the bull standing under a pine tree across the draw, and ranged him quick. 125 yards. The cow stood, and together they stared at the 2 humans exposed on a small ridge with no cover. After 5 minutes of waiting for the bull to drop his head enough to get a good look, I was wet, anxious, and a little worried the moose had more patience than me. I told Isaac I was going to move down into the draw with my bow and my rifle and try to get a better look. I made it to a bush, and still couldn't see his antlers. Worried the cow would spook before the bull, I kept a tree between the cow, and walked right at the bull. 80 yards. I got a decent look in the fading light and drizzling rain of his antlers, and noted that he was not real wide, going just past his ears. But he had paddles, and he had fronts. I set my rifle down, and moved slowly up the hill. Finally, 50 yards. Broadside. I ranged him a 2nd time, and a 3rd, and 4th. 50 yards. I nocked an arrow and then looked through my binos again. He had at least 5-6 points on one paddle, and I couldn't tell on the other. With the rain and the fading light, I couldn't bring myself to draw at that moment, worried about finding him after dark if I stuck him. The bull turned to walk away, and I grunted. He stopped and turned broadside the other direction, 52 yards. I decided I would get closer. As I stepped forward, the Bull decided he had enough, and took off over the hill. I ran over the hill and grunted, stopping him at 80 yards in the open meadow. Seeing him in the open allowed more light to hit him, and I knew he was the one I wanted. I moved in again, and got to 60 yards. He turned and headed for the timber at a slow trot. I ran the 100 yards back for my rifle, and then back to the hill top. The bull was gone. Meanwhile, the cow hadn't budged. Go figure.
Monday I set up camp just south of the Beaver ponds along the Main Boulder River at Big Beaver Campground. I hiked the shale slope and glassed and called, but was unable to turn anything up. There was fresh sign in the meadows, so I figured it was a place to start anyway.
I met my camping neighbors, a very kind gentleman from Billings and his Nephew from South Dakota, Zach. Zach had never hunted elk before and was having a tough go of it when I met him, so I pointed him to a few areas closer by where I had seen elk or elk sign while scouting for moose, and asked him to keep an eye out for moose on his hunts. We hit it off, and I was glad to have an extra set of eyes in the area for me. Isaac rolled in that night, and we made a plan for Tuesday, our first full day of hunting, as the rain moved in.
The first day we decided would be best spent covering country in all of the moose looking areas along the boulder and checking for sign while hoping to run into a bull. We started by checking the beaver ponds and their meadows. We worked north from camp and paralleled the river along the west, deciding to head to Falls creek campground. The game trail we ended up on had fresh moose tracks cruising north as well, so we followed them to the campground and the road, where the moose decided to head south on the road. We followed them back south until they crossed a fence onto private. We then systematically hiked the most obvious meadows we could find along the boulder, working south. We found more recent sign at Trout lake, but other than that, we didn't see anything to get really excited about. We made sure to set some sand traps along the trails in hopes to see where the moose were moving. When we got back to camp, Zach told us a caretaker he ran into had seen a "big moose" over in the West Boulder, adding a bit of excitement to the close of the day.
Day two was more of the same, checking sand traps, hiking meadows that we had missed the day before, and trying to stay dry from the rain and the 4-6 river crossings we were doing per day.
As we were driving to another meadow, Isaac spotted the dropper bull bedded on private right off the road. It was a small parcel of land, so we made a game plan to make a move and use the bull as a learning tool at the least. I wasn't sold on shooting him, especially so early in our hunt. We moved the 400 yards on national forest, and got to a spot where we could see him. We cow called, and the bull, now 150-200 yards away, stared, but did not react. After a few slow minutes, I decided to take the beef scapula and go rake some trees, out of sight, while Isaac kept an eye on the bull. After moving a hundred yards, a grunted and began tearing up a small pine tree with the scapula. Not 30 seconds later Isaac came running and told me the bull was coming. We set up, and continued raking, bringing the bull into archery range, before he held up. After trying different calling techniques to test reactions, I decided I wanted to see how spooky a bull was, so I walked right at him. I got to 37 yards, and came to full draw, mainly to see how it felt. The bull looked at me, lowering his head slightly. After a few grunts from me, he turned broadside. We decided we weren't going to shoot this bull, even though he was the biggest we'd seen in a summer of scouting, until we checked on the rumor in the West Boulder, so we backed out before we spooked him out of the area.
The fun was just beginning, and I wanted another encounter!We decided the afternoon would be best spent talking with the caretaker himself, and piled our wet gear and selves into the truck for the short drive. The man we met can only be described as the man himself. He's never owned a cellphone, makes coffee strong enough to take the hair OFF your chest, seemingly knows of every critter between the Boulder and the West Boulder, decided he wanted to shoot a wolf for each nephew, and subsequently filled his 5 wolf tags in 2 days, with his 30-06 no less (we saw the pelts and the pictures to prove the story), and while describing the fire that scorched the West Boulder a decade ago, said "I grabbed my saddle, my dogs, my sheds, and my gun, and said 'F this!, I'm outta here'". After brief introductions, the caretaker put on his pack boots, an orange vest, and told us we were going for a ride, saying "I've never been Moose hunting!"
After getting the 'socked in' grand tour from the caretaker and not turning anything up, we headed back to his place. He said years ago, the Moose were thick in the unit, and he had paddles to show some of the size that was achieved in the past. He figured loss of habitat from Fire, predation from the bears and wolves, and brain disease were the culprits for the demise since then. We sat around a metal stove, downing a few strong cups of joe, and the story telling continued. The old care taker told us of days when he took his snowmobile from the West Boulder to Cooke City, no GPS, no Gore tex, just wool clothes and the hope you didn't get caught, and tales of antler poachers taking pack strings of sheds out of Yellowstone through Slough Creek, over the Boulder Divide, and out the Boulder, filling up flatbeds with their illegal bounty. The conversation was easy, as Isaac and I sat enthralled, soaking in what decades of living in a seeming paradise had taught the old man. Soon, the photo album came out to show us this giant bull moose. Turns out, it was the biggest moose the caretaker had seen in "20 years". Biggest bodied... With a stomach of coffee grounds and minds chewing over all the info we had learned over the previous 6 hours, we reluctantly left the caretaker to head back to camp.
When we arrived at camp, we were pleasantly surprised to find a friend, Austin, had dropped in to join us on our hunt for a day, prior to heading off on an elk hunt. He had elk steaks cooking on the fire from his recent Wyoming elk, and with the friendship came a late night, and with the late night, came a fast morning. Knowing what the caretaker had seen made sleep tougher that night, I wondered if I should have shot the bull with the drop tine. I decided if I saw him again, I would probably not pass on him. He was wide and unique, and we had a history.
Day 3: We decided our best strategy was to drive the road quick, checking for fresh tracks, and then check out a meadow a grouse hunter from New York had told us he had seen moose in in the past. We hiked the meadow, turning up lots of moose sign, but all very old.
We went about checking our sand traps, and didn't turn up anything. We went in for a late lunch and ran across Zach. He showed us a blurry picture on his phone taken through his binos of a bull and a cow moose that he had passed on his way out from elk hunting earlier. Zach mentioned in passing that when he had seen the pair, there had been a small black bear harassing them. I got the coordinates for the location he had been when he spotted them, and then Austin packed up and left for his hunt. Ike and I decided that the slope Zach had mentioned was worth a quick glassing session, and headed north. Within a few minutes of stepping out of the truck, Ike said he saw a black wolf running down the slope. I ranged it, and started pulling my rifle off my pack in case we could make a move on it. Isaac set up his spotter, and we found out it was just a very small, very skinny black bear. Before any disappointment could set in, Isaac said he spotted a bull moose. Less than 100 yards from the bear was a bull moose with a cow. From a half mile out, he looked good enough for a closer look. The bear that Zach had seen seemed to still be thinking he was friends with the moose.
I grabbed my bow and my rifle, and we were off. As we ran up the mountain side, the rain began to fall. I had last seen the couple moving down the mountain, in a small draw. Isaac had seen them moving south, across the hillside towards a stand of aspens. The wind was coming down off the mountain, and blowing a little south, so we circled out to the south, and slowed down, keeping the aspens to our north. We listened, and couldn't hear anything, so we moved further up the hill. The rain was now a soaking, constant drizzle. We cut north through the aspens, and came out in the draw where the pair had been. Isaac spotted the bull standing under a pine tree across the draw, and ranged him quick. 125 yards. The cow stood, and together they stared at the 2 humans exposed on a small ridge with no cover. After 5 minutes of waiting for the bull to drop his head enough to get a good look, I was wet, anxious, and a little worried the moose had more patience than me. I told Isaac I was going to move down into the draw with my bow and my rifle and try to get a better look. I made it to a bush, and still couldn't see his antlers. Worried the cow would spook before the bull, I kept a tree between the cow, and walked right at the bull. 80 yards. I got a decent look in the fading light and drizzling rain of his antlers, and noted that he was not real wide, going just past his ears. But he had paddles, and he had fronts. I set my rifle down, and moved slowly up the hill. Finally, 50 yards. Broadside. I ranged him a 2nd time, and a 3rd, and 4th. 50 yards. I nocked an arrow and then looked through my binos again. He had at least 5-6 points on one paddle, and I couldn't tell on the other. With the rain and the fading light, I couldn't bring myself to draw at that moment, worried about finding him after dark if I stuck him. The bull turned to walk away, and I grunted. He stopped and turned broadside the other direction, 52 yards. I decided I would get closer. As I stepped forward, the Bull decided he had enough, and took off over the hill. I ran over the hill and grunted, stopping him at 80 yards in the open meadow. Seeing him in the open allowed more light to hit him, and I knew he was the one I wanted. I moved in again, and got to 60 yards. He turned and headed for the timber at a slow trot. I ran the 100 yards back for my rifle, and then back to the hill top. The bull was gone. Meanwhile, the cow hadn't budged. Go figure.
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zachthebowhunter
Member
If you need help get a hold of me! I am in Butte so close to that area. Also, there is no set bow season for moose so you cannot hunt them at all before Sept 15. Being that it is not the 26th that's irrelevant now! But for future reference.
skimerhorn
Member
This is a great story so far
That night, we met with two friends in McLeod who were staying in a cabin. We brought all of our wet gear, invading for the night in hopes that the stove would dry our gear. On the morning of day 4, the rain was still there, and we slipped on our slightly less wet clothes, and headed back out to look for our bull from the night before, with a pit stop up the East Boulder, where I had seen a cow in the summer. Having no luck in the East Boulder, we headed to where we had left the cow the night before. While glassing the slope, I saw the cow moose moving through some aspens. We hustled up the slope, hopeful the bull had moved back in. We got within 40 yards of the cow, and after learning the bull wasn't with her, we back out, leaving her as live "bait". We continued up the mountain to the ridge, getting a decent vantage to glass the valley. View attachment 61980
On the way out, I slipped hopping from rock to rock, and smashed my bow onto another rock, mid face plant. With a small chip and fray in the limb, I worried that my bow would be out of commission. A quick return to camp and a confirmation shot eased my worries. A return to glassing the slope allowed us to learn that the cow had now crossed the road, and onto private. We set up folding chairs and kept an eye on the slope, still hopeful that the bull would work out of the timber and start down the slope. Isaac spotted a very young bull cruising along the Boulder on the private, headed to where we had last seen the cow. We figured out bait had entered into heat, and were both wishing she was still in the national forest.
The following day, day 5, we decided we should hike into the West Boulder where we had seen a cow earlier in the summer. The clouds were low and the mountains socked in, but it wasn't raining. View attachment 61982
The trail along the West Boulder had just been used to push cattle, so cutting a moose track was not likely. We called and hiked to a vantage for glassing. The entire hike I was still kicking myself for blowing my shot the night before. After not seeing anything or any sign, we drove to Big Timber to fuel the truck up and get a hot meal at the Frosty Freez. While driving back to camp and trying got decide on a game plan for the afternoon, Isaac exclaimed "Bull!" Down on the private, there was a different bull than from the other evening. This bull had big fronts, sweeping out what looked like a good foot and then splitting, and his paddles were heavy and stacked with points. We couldn't see him from the front or back, so we didn't know how wide he really was, but we did know he was a massive bull for the unit, and a good bull for any other unit in Montana.
-Just so if you're still reading this, to prevent you from getting your hopes up, I did not end up shooting this above described bull.-
Knowing he was moving into the bottom for the hot cow, we decided we would go back to Natural Bridge and hike into the public via the Green Mountain Trail. The parking lot was full of tourists there to see the falls, and I felt out of place, bow in hand, wearing a blaze orange vest, and a rifle on my pack as we cut through the picnickers and day hikers. We cut south off the trail along the property line, and began glassing the river edges, hoping to catch another glimpse of the bull. Just seeing him again was what we hoped for, and in the off chance he was callable, we would give it a go after glassing for a bit. We continued hiking south, when we heard a loud, wail/moan from the timber above us. We looked at each other, and decided it had to be the hot cow. We moved slowly at first, listening for another moan. She delivered, and we got our bearings, heading off at a quick pace. Not knowing what we were hiking into, the rifle came off the pack and I chambered a round. Isaac took my bow, and we moved into some thick aspens, all the while the cow was calling. Then we heard the distinctive grunt of a bull. The excitement rose, and our pace slowed. He grunted again, and the cow crashed around, moaning. Thinking they were up on a ridge just a hundred yards ahead, I scanned the ridge for movement. Suddenly, the aspens exploded and two moose ran left, one right. The one to the right had the biggest paddles, and I focused my cross hairs on him. He stood at 40 yards, looking back, and the paddles matched the bull from day 3.
There was a small opening through the trees, and the rifle barked. I worked the bolt quickly, expecting to need a follow up shot. The bull was down, having not taken a step. The shakes came, and Isaac and I celebrated quietly. I walked up to the bull, and stood in disbelief, after just 3 months and 10 days of holding onto my 2016 Montana Moose tag, the hunt was over. The bull was more than I could have hoped for, and the experience was incredible the whole way. To describe the feeling best, I would say it was actually bittersweet. I sat quietly with the bull while Isaac sent out a Spot message to some friends. I don't know how old he was, but I thought about how he'd been roaming these mountains and valleys long before I dreamt of holding a tag. I don't know if maybe I'm going soft, but it was a pretty deep moment between the bull and I, and although I always feel a sense of remorse and respect for any animal I take, this bull hit a bit harder.
Isaac took photos, and then we began the butchering process. Our friends Austin and Sam were leaving their elk hunt early to meet us, and we wanted to get the meat cooling before they arrived. I had planned on having the hide tanned if I was fortunate enough to shoot a moose, and now, 2 miles back, I looked at the growing number of game bags, and the wet, heavy hide looked daunting. Still, I skinned him out as we butchered. The weather was perfect, for the first day since the hunt had begun, it wasn't raining. Still, the cloudy weather kept the temperatures in the afternoon in the 50's. We hung the quarters in their game bags in the shade, and Austin and Sam found us. I finished taking the rib meat off the last side, and we popped the skull from the vertebrae. We rolled the hide and head up, and then secured it to a metal pack frame Austin had brought in. We assessed the damage, and decided we would all rather try to do one big trip instead of two trips. We knew the packs would be heavy, but we're young and dumb.
Isaac and Sam were the real MVP meat wagons, each taking a front and a hind quarter. Austin took the "loose meat" bag, meaning he had the densest load, back straps, ribs, neck, brisket, tenderloins, and any other scrap we found. I took the hide and the head on his pack frame. This also meant Austin was using my Mystery Ranch Marshall, loaded with my hunting gear and extra clothing from the hunt itself, as well as carrying my rifle so I could carry my bow. Isaac and Sam strapped on the packs first, and we pulled them up to their feet. How they didn't topple over, I still haven't figured out. Luckily, the hike was mainly level and down hill, and a little over an hour after leaving the kill site, we arrived at the trucks, exhausted but exhilarated.
We drove back to camp, and got a good cooking fire going. We hung the quarters in trees and laid the hide and head on a large dead fall, skin up, so it could breathe. The now clear skies allowed the the temperature to drop lower than it had all week, dipping into the 20's. The loose meat bag was emptied onto the cold cement camp table, and everyone grabbed and cut the pieces they wanted for dinner. Pounds of Moose steak and potatoes later, we placed the meat back into the bag, hung it, and were lights out shortly after 1am.
With first light on day 6, we rose and packed camp. The area Game Warden stopped by camp to check out the bull and chat. He said the dropper bull was up near Armour pond with 4 cows, and said another good bull was seen in Lower Deer Creek in the burn. He estimated there were maybe 20-30 moose in the unit. His words confirmed that we had been very lucky to end up with the bull we did.
A quick group photo, and Austin and Sam were back on the road. Isaac and I returned to Bozeman where we've taken care of the meat and gear for the last day and half. As I type this, the smell of Moose ribs drifts through the house, and a full belly leaves me content. Moose is by far the best game I have ever eaten, and hope that a good friend draws their moose tag in the coming years so I can get a resupply after the next 12 months of moose meals I'm about to have.
On the way out, I slipped hopping from rock to rock, and smashed my bow onto another rock, mid face plant. With a small chip and fray in the limb, I worried that my bow would be out of commission. A quick return to camp and a confirmation shot eased my worries. A return to glassing the slope allowed us to learn that the cow had now crossed the road, and onto private. We set up folding chairs and kept an eye on the slope, still hopeful that the bull would work out of the timber and start down the slope. Isaac spotted a very young bull cruising along the Boulder on the private, headed to where we had last seen the cow. We figured out bait had entered into heat, and were both wishing she was still in the national forest.
The following day, day 5, we decided we should hike into the West Boulder where we had seen a cow earlier in the summer. The clouds were low and the mountains socked in, but it wasn't raining. View attachment 61982
The trail along the West Boulder had just been used to push cattle, so cutting a moose track was not likely. We called and hiked to a vantage for glassing. The entire hike I was still kicking myself for blowing my shot the night before. After not seeing anything or any sign, we drove to Big Timber to fuel the truck up and get a hot meal at the Frosty Freez. While driving back to camp and trying got decide on a game plan for the afternoon, Isaac exclaimed "Bull!" Down on the private, there was a different bull than from the other evening. This bull had big fronts, sweeping out what looked like a good foot and then splitting, and his paddles were heavy and stacked with points. We couldn't see him from the front or back, so we didn't know how wide he really was, but we did know he was a massive bull for the unit, and a good bull for any other unit in Montana.
-Just so if you're still reading this, to prevent you from getting your hopes up, I did not end up shooting this above described bull.-
Knowing he was moving into the bottom for the hot cow, we decided we would go back to Natural Bridge and hike into the public via the Green Mountain Trail. The parking lot was full of tourists there to see the falls, and I felt out of place, bow in hand, wearing a blaze orange vest, and a rifle on my pack as we cut through the picnickers and day hikers. We cut south off the trail along the property line, and began glassing the river edges, hoping to catch another glimpse of the bull. Just seeing him again was what we hoped for, and in the off chance he was callable, we would give it a go after glassing for a bit. We continued hiking south, when we heard a loud, wail/moan from the timber above us. We looked at each other, and decided it had to be the hot cow. We moved slowly at first, listening for another moan. She delivered, and we got our bearings, heading off at a quick pace. Not knowing what we were hiking into, the rifle came off the pack and I chambered a round. Isaac took my bow, and we moved into some thick aspens, all the while the cow was calling. Then we heard the distinctive grunt of a bull. The excitement rose, and our pace slowed. He grunted again, and the cow crashed around, moaning. Thinking they were up on a ridge just a hundred yards ahead, I scanned the ridge for movement. Suddenly, the aspens exploded and two moose ran left, one right. The one to the right had the biggest paddles, and I focused my cross hairs on him. He stood at 40 yards, looking back, and the paddles matched the bull from day 3.
There was a small opening through the trees, and the rifle barked. I worked the bolt quickly, expecting to need a follow up shot. The bull was down, having not taken a step. The shakes came, and Isaac and I celebrated quietly. I walked up to the bull, and stood in disbelief, after just 3 months and 10 days of holding onto my 2016 Montana Moose tag, the hunt was over. The bull was more than I could have hoped for, and the experience was incredible the whole way. To describe the feeling best, I would say it was actually bittersweet. I sat quietly with the bull while Isaac sent out a Spot message to some friends. I don't know how old he was, but I thought about how he'd been roaming these mountains and valleys long before I dreamt of holding a tag. I don't know if maybe I'm going soft, but it was a pretty deep moment between the bull and I, and although I always feel a sense of remorse and respect for any animal I take, this bull hit a bit harder.
Isaac took photos, and then we began the butchering process. Our friends Austin and Sam were leaving their elk hunt early to meet us, and we wanted to get the meat cooling before they arrived. I had planned on having the hide tanned if I was fortunate enough to shoot a moose, and now, 2 miles back, I looked at the growing number of game bags, and the wet, heavy hide looked daunting. Still, I skinned him out as we butchered. The weather was perfect, for the first day since the hunt had begun, it wasn't raining. Still, the cloudy weather kept the temperatures in the afternoon in the 50's. We hung the quarters in their game bags in the shade, and Austin and Sam found us. I finished taking the rib meat off the last side, and we popped the skull from the vertebrae. We rolled the hide and head up, and then secured it to a metal pack frame Austin had brought in. We assessed the damage, and decided we would all rather try to do one big trip instead of two trips. We knew the packs would be heavy, but we're young and dumb.
Isaac and Sam were the real MVP meat wagons, each taking a front and a hind quarter. Austin took the "loose meat" bag, meaning he had the densest load, back straps, ribs, neck, brisket, tenderloins, and any other scrap we found. I took the hide and the head on his pack frame. This also meant Austin was using my Mystery Ranch Marshall, loaded with my hunting gear and extra clothing from the hunt itself, as well as carrying my rifle so I could carry my bow. Isaac and Sam strapped on the packs first, and we pulled them up to their feet. How they didn't topple over, I still haven't figured out. Luckily, the hike was mainly level and down hill, and a little over an hour after leaving the kill site, we arrived at the trucks, exhausted but exhilarated.
We drove back to camp, and got a good cooking fire going. We hung the quarters in trees and laid the hide and head on a large dead fall, skin up, so it could breathe. The now clear skies allowed the the temperature to drop lower than it had all week, dipping into the 20's. The loose meat bag was emptied onto the cold cement camp table, and everyone grabbed and cut the pieces they wanted for dinner. Pounds of Moose steak and potatoes later, we placed the meat back into the bag, hung it, and were lights out shortly after 1am.
With first light on day 6, we rose and packed camp. The area Game Warden stopped by camp to check out the bull and chat. He said the dropper bull was up near Armour pond with 4 cows, and said another good bull was seen in Lower Deer Creek in the burn. He estimated there were maybe 20-30 moose in the unit. His words confirmed that we had been very lucky to end up with the bull we did.
A quick group photo, and Austin and Sam were back on the road. Isaac and I returned to Bozeman where we've taken care of the meat and gear for the last day and half. As I type this, the smell of Moose ribs drifts through the house, and a full belly leaves me content. Moose is by far the best game I have ever eaten, and hope that a good friend draws their moose tag in the coming years so I can get a resupply after the next 12 months of moose meals I'm about to have.
backsmasher23
Member
Awesome story and pics...congrats!
Kaitum
Well-known member
Very cool, congratulations. Thanks for the story and pics.
