Ha ha.........yeah, kinda what I expected, Moosie.
Even with the greasy omlet and tots, I am just about to my ol' "school days playing weight"
The journey out across the infinite tundra for my caribou amassed 19.3 miles according to the gps..........I was thinking more like 30 miles than 20
We were wanting to make this a bow hunt, so I didn't even pack a rifle. That decision made for some frustrating couple of days at the beginning.
Right out of the chute, our first morning of hunting, we put a stalk on about 20 bou close to camp. There were two shooter bulls.......one a good bull, the other a GREAT bull. I got to within 70 yards of the bull I wanted as they passed by, but elected to hold as it WAS just the first day, and they WERE heading straight into my buddy's path. He managed to keep from getting trampled, but they were on him so quick he couldn't get turned on the big boy quick enough. The shots were 80 yards and plus by the time he sent $40 worth of carbon after them. The bou seemed to laugh as they shucked our attempts aside and ambled out of sight across the horizon.
We learned, only after arriving, that we missed the migration by a few weeks. This changed everything. Instead of thousands of bou, we saw hundreds. Instead of moving into an ambush we would set, they were content to bed and graze in small groups with many eyes still and looking for approaching danger. Still, the futility was necessary to avoid a lull in the hunt, and to avoid loosing focuss. A rifle hunt could have ended the first day with some great bou, but this venture without some sort of migration or herd movement started looking grim by day 3 on the tundra.
So a plan was devised that night in camp to try and shake things up and make something happen. We set out in two groups with enough gear to stay out as long as necessary to give ourselves a real chance. One group veered northeast while we drifted southeast, thinking at mimimum we might push bou to each others' group. At about 4 miles out, the bou were getting thicker, but always keeping that safe distance of 3 to 5 hundred yards. We did our best to appear non-threatening (which is exactly what we had been up to this point
). We kept moving west and starting hitting these huge frozen lakes that measured a couple of miles across in some instances. They were scattered throughout the horizon. We were also noticing the bou numbers rapidly growing although they still were mostly stationary in small groups of 20 or less.
On one lake I saw an opportunity. Unlike most of the other lakes, this one had a high cut bank about 3 feet tall. We seized the chance to use it for cover as we stalked forward as we kept glassing. This was the first time we had any real cover.
By this time I had glassed a couple of dozen bulls I would have arrowed given the chance, but stalks in the open with no cover proved ineffective. This one bull I had spotted a mile or two backed was now moving toward the lake with his five cows. When I first sighted him a mile back, my buddy suggested we ignore him and move on up to try and find some we could have a chance on rather than push these away as seemed to continually be the case.
We now had three shooters in sight, so some careful glassing was the next order of business. To me, they all looked good, but something about the bull approaching from our back seemed to stand out.
I leaned on Ray's opinion as he has many more bou hunts under his belt. One good look and his reaction said it all. "My God! That is your shooter, no question!"
He was at about 300 yards and closing at an amble. His cows were trying to hurry him, but he would have none of it. His waggle was menacing,........I couldn't look at him long without my heart pounding out of my chest. The bloody velvet hanging from his massive rack appeared goolish. I somehow knew he had me right where he wanted me.....advantage caribou
It looked as though all I had to do was hold position and in about 10 minutes they would walk right over us. But as I got "THAT" feeling, you know the one........."how can I screw this up"......yeah that one, the bou started to veer right. Their course would take them out of bow range to about 300 yards. Panic was quickly setting in! Another blown stalk........such a great bull........would there be another chance at such a great animal?.......my thoughts were clouded but my judgement was not. I knew I had to take action as they were now 250 yards out and angling away.
I hunkered below the lake's edge and ran as fast as I could about 300 yards up ahead.........glassed and saw them closing fast and veering to a parralel course that would keep them 250 yards away as they walked by. Between the panic and fear and all the swirling thoughts in my head I crawled upon the tundra and belly-crawled at Olympic type speed, peeking up every 40 yards or so. Each time I did I could see my chance fading as I only had mere minutes before they were even with me. At 100 yards I really felt it was too late.....but the bull slowed........just enough........I needed another 30 yards.......had to get there. In my haste and panic, I had managed to find myself in a gray area distance wise.......realizing I had left my pack and rangefinder back on the lake where my partner watched on.
The distance seemed great, my confidence was low, the animal seemed in control..........as I thought to myself, could he really be mine? I can't remember being this excited about harvesting an animal in a very long time. The Dall sheep hunt a few years back comes to mind, but this was different somehow.
I suddenly was sure I heard bou hoofs approaching from behind, but then realized it was the throbbing in my ears from my blood pressure and heart pounding. That happened twice before I conviced myself of it.
With all my doubts and blood pressure out of control, I took a few seconds to catch my breath.......rose to my knees and prepared for the shot........at a distance I thought was a little long, but makeable. Full draw was not easy with my recent elbow reconstrution, but managable. Thankfully my hold time needed to be only minimal. I closed my eyes and........NO, JUST JOKING!
I locked on,.....raised a little to compensate the greater distance, and sent carbon and steel across the tundra with all the planning , hopes, and dreams of one hunter's last year riding with it. As soon as the shot was gone, I wished for it back, thinking I rushed it. But before another thought could be processed, I watched the great bull take a hard hit and quickliy hit the tundra. It seemed like a dream. I expected a second shot would be necessary, but there would be no need. The shot was high, just under the spine and he crumpled in a mass as the reality of what just happened began to sink in. I was truely speechless and immediately looked to the sky and thanked God to just be alive and having such an opportunity. The taking of such an animal is a humbling experience.....at least for me. I waited for Ray to come over and we watched on as the 'ol bull's girls waited for him to catch up.........but he wouldn't be going with them on this day, they would have to continue on with out him. He was peaceful and we gazed upon him with honor and dignity.........even in death, he was still a king.
As we stood before the big bull, in all his glory, it started sinking in that there would be no ground shrinkage, and he had good mass, doulble shovels and plenty of trash on top.
For a first caribou hunt and my first bou, I got more than I expected. I know some here have probably killed bigger, but for me, it was more about a proving ground of sorts........a test of measure. This was my first big hunt since two injurys followed by surgerys that left me very disabled. A fall from 30 feet left me with 10 broken bones and a completely shattered elbow that had to be replaced with a titanium one. Almost a year of rehab later, I needed to prove to myself I hadn't lost a step. The pack out of my bou and the one Ray got later that day took us more than 20 miles across rough terrain.........and nothing ever felt so good! We had no assitance from guides or flight services and just like my Dall sheep, it was a do-it-yourself al the way with my brother and his buddy. I do give them the credit because I know it would not have been possible without them. Having already harvested many bou, they always put me in the best positions to be sucessful........something that is not lost on me.
We finished the week with 3 carribou for five hunters, but could have filled all tags as a couple of guys chose to eat tags rather than harvest lessor bulls. In hunting bou for many years, the whole group agreed that this was the best bull they had taken in that area......something I could not easily comprehend. They ALL looked good as they traversed the tundra with such grace and ease. I would have been happy with less........but am VERY proud of my good fortune.
The scenery was remakable, the experience priceless, and the trophy is one that will let me be happy to change my target species for next year,........Alaskan bull moose!.....the planning has already begun!
The hunt was great, telling it made me smile remembering.........
Thanks,
DS
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