Moose Hunt 2021

Hey folks, it has been awhile, but here's a long one to catch you up!

I was driving back from a family get together when my wife’s phone went off with a text from a friend saying, “Just heard Chris’s name in the moose draw!” While my wife’s response was less enthusiastic, I was smiling ear to ear, and my mind started racing about the task at hand.  I have been very fortunate to have drawn before, this was my third permit in the 25 years I have been applying as well as some other hunts where I was a sub-permittee.  For a bit of context on the “task at hand” running through my mind, I will run through a bit of history.

My first experience with moose hunting was in 2001 at the ripe old age of 15, when my dad’s name was drawn for a permit, and I was listed as his sub.  Neither of us had much experience with moose hunting and were quickly on a crash course to learning.  We read, talked to everyone we knew, scouted the best we knew how to, and then were fortunate enough to pair up with a coworker of my dads who had a bit more experience.  Sure, enough first morning he put us onto a beautiful big bull and while shaking like a leaf I managed to not get a good shot.  The bull dropped when I fired, but quickly rose and headed for the thick cover of a brook buffer.  We cautiously approached but could not find blood or hair or any evidence of hitting him.  We tracked the bull in the mud the best we could until the sign petered out and dejectedly turned back to the truck.  In retrospect, with my experience level what it is now, I would handle the situation differently, but we can’t go back in time and learn from our experiences.  Hunting the rest of the day yielded a great shot on a beautiful coyote, affirming the rifles capability, but no further moose sightings.  On day 2 of the hunt, we saw a small bull cruising in the early afternoon and with some quick shooting we were able to take a 680lb. bull sporting a 36” wide rack.  A great first bull and I was ecstatic with the success.

It only took a few more years to get my name drawn and my first permit was in zone 4, which was deep in the North Maine Woods.  I had been bitten by the moose bug and had my heart set on a 60” trophy or bust for my weeklong hunt.  Before legal time on the opening morning, we had an absolute giant at 75 yards, but as we waited for the seconds to tick by until legal the bull decided he had enough and melted back into the dark timber.  Long story short, after seeing him, it reaffirmed my trophy goal and while we saw that giant one other morning the 13 other bulls, we saw that week didn’t quite measure up and I ended up eating a healthy dose of tag soup.

One of the reasons I believe I have been able to draw three tags was my willingness to apply for all the available permits and in 2011 I drew a cow tag.  That hunt lasted two days and ended up being the last hunt I had with my traditional partners as my grandfather and his brother both passed away that year.  I was fortunate enough to take a 500-pound cow that made for phenomenal table fare and had an enjoyable hunt to top it off.  Check out some other reflecting at this link; Moose Hunting History, when I realized there is a lot more to a moose hunt than the trophy at the end.

Fast forward another 10 years and I was drawn again, but this time not only was I drawn, but I also pulled my first-choice tag!  Having learned quite a bit about moose hunting over my hunts as well as a handful of other moose hunts, I went along on even though I wasn’t on the permit, I had a fairly good idea what I was after.  I also knew that the moose herd wasn’t what it was 10 years ago, so I knew I would have my work cut out for me.  I wanted a trophy bull but had relaxed the standards to include upper 40-inch bulls as well as anything in the 50-inch class.  I started hanging trail cams shortly after the draw, as did a few of my friends.  We put in a large effort to pinpoint a big bull and narrow down where he was spending the summer.  I have to say, I have a love/hate relationship with trail cameras, because seldom do I get the shots I anticipate, but I guess that makes the successful captures sweeter.  After multiple failed cameras and others being torn down and chewed on by bears, we finally started to catalog some decent bulls and one real smasher.  One area was proving very difficult to get pictures from as it seemed to kill any camera, we put there either by bear or other mysterious malfunctions.  Frustrated with the cameras, we gave up and relied on reading traditional sign, which was extremely promising.  My work schedule in the weeks leading up to the season gets very hectic, so I had to let everything soak for a month or so, but with 2 weeks until the season I was able to get back scouting in earnest.  Early mornings found me cruising the roads we had identified as closest to our target spots and watching the sign build as the rut activity started to increase.  Moose sightings increased and one morning was exceptional with 13 moose spotted and 2 definite “shooter” bulls.  The last week I had prioritized my locations and it became a balancing act of keeping tabs on the moose without pressuring them. 

Saturday night before the Monday morning opener the sky opened up and we had a torrential downpour pass through the area, and it put over 4 inches of rain down.  We spent most of the day doing the final preparations and loading the truck with gear for every possible scenario I could think of.  Uneasy about how the weather would impact the moose behavior, I tossed and turned for several hours after putting my head on the pillow, but I don’t know if I could straight facedly call it sleep.  The alarm went off at 3:00 prompting me to bounce out of bed in anticipation and pull on my clothes and gear I had laid out the night before.  Waiting until the last possible minute I went and woke my eight-year-old son Drake who was joining me for the day’s festivities.  His excitement showed as well as he quickly sprung out of bed despite the early time.  Grabbing the last of the food goods from the fridge and topping off the ice in the coolers as he got ready, I had just snapped the last latch on the YETI when my brother-in-law Brent’s headlights pulled in the yard and the crew was almost together.  It was going to a real family affair for the first day, with three generations.  We were meeting my dad Tom on the road to save drive time for everyone, and my brother Tony was going to join us later in the morning.   Wasting no time, Brent grabbed his stuff and jumped in the truck with Drake and I and we headed out.  Awhile later we pulled into our meeting spot and Dad was already there waiting.  We had his truck loaded up for the retrieval process, so we parked it in a strategic location, and he climbed in the passenger seat.  The headlights showed ditches full of water and flowing over the road surface in multiple locations as we splish-splashed our way to my first chosen location.  We had allowed for ample time and parked in our spot a full hour before legal shooting time. 

As we all sat in the darkness, excitement built as we whispered last minute thoughts, fears and hopes and then listened as a cow started calling.  With about a half hour until legal as we listened to the cow moans in the distance, I noticed a dark blob that appeared to move and told the crew, there’s a moose right in front of us.  It took a bit longer of watching with binoculars to confirm it was a cow just feeding slowly along.   Excitement was quickly quenching the fears now and we were all trying to pick apart the darkness to see if she had a companion.  She slowly fed out of sight and the minutes ticked by as the sky slowly lightened.  We quickly hatched out a plan were Dad, and I would still hunt the first piece and then Brent and Drake would come pick us up to proceed to where I wanted to start calling.  The clock struck legal, and we loaded the guns as quietly as we could and stealthily walked in the same direction the cow had gone.  We didn’t go very far before spotting her and we got to watch her for a minute or so before she busted us.  The wind was wrong for this spot, but I just couldn’t drive by.  Not completely giving up hope, we cut the wind at an angle and kept going a bit further before I noticed another moose giving me the stare down.  Easing the binoculars up out of the chest harness I confirmed it was another cow.  Watching her she started making a guttural sound I had never heard a cow make, which I can only relate to a dog barking.  I heard some branches breaking off to her side but was not able to see what was making the noise before she turned and walked in the same direction.  I had heard that this sound is often a response when a cow is trying to protect her calf or to keep a bull to herself.  I was unsure which scenario was playing out here, but was leaning towards the bull, but either way there was no easy way to get to them with the current wind, so we pushed on.  The rest of the walk was uneventful, and Brent and Drake arrived with the pickup at the perfect time.  Continuing, I was giving the full tour guide spiel, telling every spot I had seen a bull or cow, partly to keep everyone’s eyes peeled.  We were almost to our spot, there was one more right turn, so I started explaining the plan to everyone.  I said, “this is going to be the spot, we are going to around this corner and we will be going to……MOOSE!!!!!!!!!Big Bull!!!!!”  As the words were coming out of my mouth, the pickup was coming to a screeching halt, and I might have put it into park before the wheels were done rolling.  I didn’t even need binoculars to see this was a bull I would shoot.  As I loaded the rifle and grabbed my shooting sticks, my heart was starting to pound uncontrollably.  I picked the rifle up quickly to peek through the scope and confirmed everything was as big as I thought.  I was pretty sure I had seen this bull the week before and he was the biggest one I had laid eyes on all summer and fall.  Dad readied himself and said, “It’s too far for me to shoot.” “Me too”, I said, “It has to be close to 1000 yards”.  “We have got to get closer, let’s walk single file right down this wheel track, wind is good, and the sun is at our back so we might be able to close the distance.”  Nodding he started following me and I had to pace myself not to break into a dead run.  Walking briskly, but steadily, we closed the gap; 800, 600, 500 and finally to 400 yards.  It was still a poke, but both he and the cow standing beside him seemed to change their disposition and I was worried we had been made.  “We’re going to have to try it”, I whispered as I settled the .300 Win. Mag onto the shooting stick and knelt to steady myself.  “You shoot, still too far for me”, Dad said as he tried to steady himself, but without a rest at that range would be very difficult.  Trying to steady my breathing and slow my racing heart, the crosshairs were settled right and left, but were still traveling from top of back to bottom of belly as I shook.  Doing the mental math of needing to hold a bit high at that range, I took a deep breath and as I let it out, found the spot just above center where I wanted it and the gun went off.  The bull buckled and spun as Dad said, “You got him!”.  Feeling good about the shot, but not 100% I quickly worked the bolt to put a fresh round in and got the crosshairs back on him and hurriedly pulled the trigger.  Second shot was too hurried and a miss but caused him to jump down into thick cover and out of sight.  Unsure on the hit, I whispered to Dad, “Let’s just ease down to where he was and see what we see. 

We slowly walked down, with the cow who had not moved at all staring us down.  As we got inside 100 yards she turned and started to walk away, not ready for leave yet, I let out a real soft grunt.  She spun around and took a few steps towards us.  We continued approaching and every time she would turn to leave, I would softly grunt again.  We finally got to where the bull had been standing, evidenced by his big tracks slipping in the mud, but I couldn’t see any blood or hair readily apparent.  Now worried, my mind started racing, did I just wound this giant never to be seen again, was it a clean miss, or maybe did he tip over just out of sight.  As my mind raced, I was reading the cow and gave another soft grunt, which made her put her back legs together and urinate on them, which prompted a second cow to make an appearance and she came charging in to be with the other cow at 20 yards.  Enjoying the show and relishing how awesome of an opportunity it was to experience this, my mind kept forcing my eyes to search for blood.  I had just grunted a little louder as my eyes scanned the small trees for the slightest drop of blood when in my peripheral vision, I saw movement.  It was the bull, he had bedded just out of view and stood again where I could just see his rack.  The two ladies in front of him, and the thought of another bull coming proved to be too much, even in his wounded state he took a step towards the cows and that was just what I needed to have a clear line on his chest.  I had him in the scope as soon I saw him and at 30 yards as soon as his shoulder cleared the fir and tamarack, the Weatherby Vanguard roared connecting solidly and causing him to break into a run.  My Dad quickly realized what happened and brought his gun up to hit him in the vitals with a well-placed shot as he was running.  I had quickly worked the bolt and brought the gun back up just as Dad shot.  Finding the shoulder again, I squeezed the trigger and watched the bull collapse upon impact.  Big Bull Down!!!!!!

The roller coaster of emotions during a moose hunt just reached the pinnacle!  As I stood there and looked at the rack seemingly reaching for the sky, I was in disbelief and awe that it had all come together.  I signaled to Brent and Drake to come down from their perch where they were watching the whole scene unfold and videoing through the binoculars.  I was too taken aback to even approach the beast for a minute, so I just stood there soaking the whole scene in and letting the flood of emotions wash over.  I was able to take an awesome bull with my father by my side and my son watching it and fueling his passion for the sport.  I was speechless about how truly epic it was, and while I thought of how awesome it would have been had my grandfather and Uncle Dick been there too, I smiled and thought they are here in our memories.

My phone went off with a text from my brother with a picture of a big bull he had spotted on his way to meet us, and my reply was, “He’s a beauty, but he’s got nothing on the one we just shot!  BBD!!!”  Drake and Brent were beyond excited as they pulled up and Dad and I were grinning ear to ear.  After getting Tony some directions to find us, we as a group headed over to where he lay a mere 20 yards from where we could drive the pickup.  After running my hands over his antlers with sheer admiration, we propped the bull up for photos and revealed the side facing us for all the shots.  All four shots had found their mark, although the first one had been a tad high and just barely got the lungs but was a clean through and through.  After taking lots of photos, something that I have only recently gotten better at and strongly encourage everyone to take 15 minutes for good pictures, we got to the process of field dressing.  My brother showed up just in time for pictures and field dressing, which is his favorite part.  We sent the other half of the crew to retrieve the trailer and they pulled in just as we had finished up.  We backed the trailer into the ditch, and I rolled the head and shoulder back as Tony wedged the bedliner under to protect the cape.  Wrapped the cable carefully around the antlers and through a pulley on the front of the trailer before hooking to Tony’s pickup and backed up slowly pulling him onto the trailer.  The whole retrieval process only took 5 minutes!  We then high fived again and pointed the pickups for the tagging station where we had lots of friends and family waiting for us to watch the weighing/tagging process.  As the biologist called out the metric measurements, I was trying to do the conversion in my head, but the calculator did its work faster, and they wrote 61” spread on the board.  After hoisting it up at the scales, it weighed in at 779lbs. field dressed.  By then it was getting quite warm, so we headed straight to the butchers and caped it before sticking it in the walk-in cooler.  Over 350 pounds of lean venison, an amazing trophy for the wall and family memories to be cherished long after are what the Maine Moose Hunt of 2021 gave to me!   After drying for 60 days, I had the rack scored and it grossed 189 3/8” and netted 182 6/8” qualifying it for the Maine Antler & Skull Trophy Club.  Also, I was able to get the moose aged by pulling a tooth and it turns out he was 13.5 years old, a real old giant!

Bear Den Visit

Maine is well known for its wildlife.  It has one of the largest black bear populations in the “Lower 48” and state officials saw a need to understand more about this species in order to ensure its presence remained on the landscape.  In 1975 a study was launched in which 51 bears were captured and fitted with radio collars.  Biologists monitored their travels and when the bears would den up in the winter months, they would go to the dens and check on the condition of the bears.  This work has continued every year since and now there are about 100 female bears with collars.  Each year several groups get to tag along on one of the den visits.  I was fortunate enough to be one of the lucky tag along groups this year!  My hope out of the visit was to better understand what impacts forest activities have on the bears’ life cycle and in general learn more about the black bear.  In addition the allure of holding a bear cub that was still alive was a major draw!  The biologists were extremely knowledgeable about bears and bear behavior and were exemplary tour guides.  Thanks to Randy Cross, who I am quite confident has forgotten more about bears than I will ever know, and his understudies Roach, Jumper and Kid(Their self-imposed nicknames), we had an extremely enjoyable trip.

The den we visited housed a bear named “Nel” which was a 22-year-old sow, and two of her one-year old cubs.  These yearling cubs were some of the larger ones the team had sampled with a male weighing in at 53 pounds and a female weighing 48 pounds.  Nel was a direct offspring of one of the original bears in the study.  The female bears have a cub every other year, the cubs are born in the den mid-January spending all year with the mother and den the next winter with the mother before going off on their own the second spring.  This gives biologists two winters to check in on them, with female yearlings getting a collar of their own to continue the study.  A den can be just about anywhere, with some in hollow trees, caves, or as was the case on this bear under a blown down tree.  The den is located with the use of telemetry equipment which locates the radio signals of the collar.  First a plane determines the approximate area before utilizing snowmobiles and snowshoes to pin point the exact den location.  Once located a biologist enters the den with a sedative and sedates the bears.  Then the bears are pulled out and evaluated, including everything from cub survival, weight, size, hair samples to teeth condition.  Once samples are complete the bears get placed back in and the den is covered back up for the bears to continue their winter rest.  It was a very educational trip and a once in a lifetime experience.  I encourage everyone to listen to the scientific knowledge this group provides and let them be at the core of bear management.

Stay tuned as there are more exciting stories on the way!

Deer Hunting 2018

For those of you who follow along regularly, you might recall a post about my goals for 2017.  For those who don't remember, feel free to take a second to catch up here:

2017 Goals

Essentially I exceeded my expectations and checked off three of the 4 goals:

1. Shoot a Tom Turkey

2. Catch a Muskie over 20 pounds

3. Trap a Bear over 200 pounds

However I fell short on the fourth goal of:

4.  Shoot a Buck over 200 pounds

I decided that I was going to focus most of my efforts on this singular goal in 2018 and saved up vacation time, finished as many projects as possible and generally tried to prepare for the month of November.

The season started slow, the trail cameras showed little for promising bucks, with one potential contender that I was hopeful for, getting shot on opening day by another hunter.  I scoured country, logged many miles whether in the pickup or wearing out the boot leather.  After two weeks of hunting I was feeling quite discouraged and had only seen three does for my efforts.  Then, I decided to stop exploring so much country and focus more on known areas that have more concentrated deer.  With snow coming early here in the north country deer were moving into what I call the transition areas and I started seeing multiple deer a day and my hopes were rejuvenated.  After seeing close to 60 deer, messing up on a buck, watching a deer get shot right in front of me and putting in over 80 hours, I set the rifle in the cabinet tired, forlorn and disappointed.  After resting for a day(No Sunday hunting in Maine), I decided I wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet and bought my muzzleloader stamp.  The six day season is short, but my hopes were high and on day two I was really close to getting a shot on a smaller buck.  Finally after 90 hours logged, I caught a break when a once in a lifetime buck slipped up and gave me a glimpse of him.  After watching a doe acting funny I kept glancing behind her and then all I saw was a huge chocolate rack looking at me.  Everything in me wanted to shoot, but I did not have a safe shot, so I watched as he melted into the dark timber.  A short track job later I caught up with him and six does and his mind was preoccupied long enough for me to get a good shot on him.  When I got to him, the 8 point chocolate colored rack contrasted against the white snowy backdrop and I was in complete disbelief.  I closed my eyes to picture what my dream buck would look like, then reopened them and he was laying at my feet.  As I hoisted him into the pickup, I was quite sure he would break the 200 pound mark, making him a Maine "Big Buck", and sure enough when the scales settled, the gentlemen at the tagging station announced 222 pounds and I don't think you could have slapped the grin off my face.  We put a tape to his antlers and he green scored right around 150" as an eight pointer.  I believe he should at least be in the high 140's after drying, which means he should make MASTC as well. 

Goal number 4 is now complete and in remarkable fashion.  I realize that a buck like this is probably a once in a lifetime accomplishment, but here's to hoping someday it might happen again.

Stay tuned as we do some hardwater exploration and now it is time to come up with our next set of goals to work towards!  Feel free to share your goals or successes with us!

Trapping 2018

The 2018 season was certainly not one for the record books.  It started off with a tough bear bait season.  I didn't have a bear that I was willing to target come to the bait frequently enough to set a snare, meanwhile I imagine I was feeding every raccoon in Aroostook county!  So while I did not trap a bear this year, I did trap several raccoons when the season finally opened.  I also got the kids out helping to trap some nuisance beaver and even a nuisance fisher.  We also managed to pick up a few bonus muskrats, so while the numbers were not impressive the memories we made were for a lifetime!

Muskie Derby 2018

The muskie derby this year was certainly interesting as lots of rain fell right before the start of the festivities and water that was barely accessible by canoe a week before became accessible by anything and everything up to and including a small party boat!  Even with our fishing hole at times looking more like a marina than a river, we still managed to find a few fish in the dirty water.  We ended with 9 muskie for the weekend with Brent placing on the leaderboard in 11th place with a 40 7/8"and 18.38 pound muskellunge.  It was a fun weekend and the weather was beautiful for most of our 40 hours of fishing.  I must admit though dawn to dusk in a canoe for two days followed by a third day of dawn to 5:00 when the scales close has me not wanting to see my canoe for a few days!

Brent's 11th Place Fish

One of my more unique catches.

Always Rewarded with Beautiful Scenery

The Final Standings

Stay tuned for some other stories coming soon!

Double on Muskie!!

The muskie fishing adventures this year have numbered less than anticipated, but the trips we did take were productive.  Our first outing of the year rewarded us with three toothy beauties, including the first of the year over 40", but it was the second trip which really set the stage.  A friend, Josh, was visiting from Connecticut and his heart was set on hooking into a muskie.  As we pushed the canoe off the rocky shoreline, something just felt right and we wasted no time in wetting our lines.  An hour into the trip I was second guessing myself about it feeling right when Josh let out an exclamation as the rod tip came alive and dipped hard towards the water.  Ecstatic we slipped the 36" fish into the net and headed for shore for some proper pictures.  As we finished taking pictures and watched as the released fish slipped back to the depths, I decided I would try a couple casts as well since mission was accomplished.  We had just pushed off and Brent and I both let go with long casts.  The second my lure hit the water, it was followed with an explosion as I hooked onto a fish.  I had not even had time to exclaim, "Fish On!", when I heard Brent issue the same proclamation.  Turning I saw his rod was bent over as well.  A Double on Muskie!!!!  This was something I had heard of and even saw a YouTube video or two on, but had never experienced.  Brent quickly boxed his 37" fish towards the canoe and made quick work of getting it in the net.  He generously offered to release his fish without so much as a picture to free up the net for my fish, but I was feeling like taking a risk and we decided to gamble and try to get both fish in the net.  I played the fish for a bit longer and as it passed under my seat, I couldn't help but notice the fishes' girth or what I call "shoulders".  It was an impressive fish and I was starting to regret my suggestion of trying to put two fish in the net, but with a quick swoop and some teamwork with Josh and Brent holding the net, I made one final swing of the rod and guided it beside it's comrade and it was done, a double landed.  To top the sweetness of the double, the fished stretched comfortably past the 43 1/2" mark making my personal best fish.  After some picture taking and celebration we released those two beauties for another day.  Not to be outdone, Josh produced a 43 1/2" fish after less than 10 minutes of starting to fish again.  A truly gorgeous fish that would make just about anybody happy, but throw it in as a second ever musky on your first morning of muskie fishing and I think Josh might want to retire from his musky fishing career, because I am pretty sure we won't be able to replicate that again any time soon.  After exhausting our time limits, we headed back to the landing, but we had to stop for my famous "One last cast", when Brent hooked up with the 5th fish of the morning.  A skipper compared to our prior fish that day, but on an ordinary day a fun treat.  The muskie derby was coming soon, and I'll chronicle that adventure in a separate post, so stay tuned.

Spring Adventure - St. John River Canoe Trip

Early spring found our vehicle pointed into the North Maine Woods with a canoe strapped to the top.  Our destination was some of the upper reaches of the St. John River.  I love the St. John River and have spent countless hours on the lower stretches before it crosses completely into Canada, but I had never been on the upper portion, so I was really looking forward to checking out some new country.  We were also fortunate enough to be going with some really great people who knew the country like the back of their hands, as well as it's very interesting history.  I won't bore everyone with my rambling musings as I don't believe the vocabulary exists to describe how cool of a trip this is, I will let the pictures do most of the talking, and I would challenge everyone to go check out the scenery and the history on this fabulous stretch of river.  I am definitely looking forward to extending our "river rat" territory to the entire length of the river, but in a slow and exploratory nature to really check out and experience the history that surrounds you in what seems like an untouched land.  The year of 2018 we covered from Red Pine to Seven Islands, with hopefully new areas in years to come!

The Launch at Red Pine

Plaque on Blanchet Bridge

The Makings of a Picnic Table

After Construction

Camille Beaulieu's Trapping Cabin

Evidence of a Long Ago Farm 

Steam Shovel Used for Major Construction Projects of the Day