The moments leading up to when I finally pulled the trigger were the most intense, most electrifying and most incredible of my hunting career.
The bull had wasted no time closing the distance from 400 to a mere 8 yards. Rut-crazed and determined, he grunted, raked, thrashed and crashed every step of the way. As he made his final approach, I focused on a small opening along the edge of the winter road. Adrenaline had sent my body into a state of heart-pounding chaos and I struggled to maintain composure in the fading light.
He materialized out of the thick woods into the opening less than 25 feet away, stopped, and scanned for the cow he’d come to claim. The crosshairs found his shoulder and the trigger broke cleanly. At the shot, he whirled then disappeared back into the thick growth, and I was certain I’d heard him crash for a final time.
Maine’s moose seasons are short. With the exception of an extended multi-week season for two Wildlife Management Districts, hunters get six days to make it happen. That leaves very little room for variables such as adverse weather, uncooperative animals or a variety of other factors that can change the outcome of the hunt.
The shot described above took place just before legal hunting time expired on Thursday evening of our September hunt in Zone 6. While it may seem like a fairy tale scripted by the moose hunting gods themselves, our journey before and after the excitement was anything but. This hunt tested us in every way from the first minute to the last, throwing us constant curve balls, but we hung tough and persevered.
The previous Sunday morning, grinning ear to ear, I began my journey to Bridgewater where I planned to meet the rest of our hunting party, when my phone rang. The news my buddy and primary hunting partner had for me wasn’t good. He’d just tested positive for COVID and asked what I wanted to do. After several minutes of discussion, the decision was made to continue with the once-in-a-lifetime hunt, though we would need to adjust our accommodations and strictly follow social distancing practices, including limiting our hunting party to him, myself and a third who was scheduled to arrive in camp Tuesday evening. Despite our best efforts to prevent it, I too tested positive for COVID by Wednesday, though I had few symptoms that didn’t affect my ability to hunt.
Monday morning brought rain, warm temperatures and unresponsive bulls, but we spent the morning hiking and calling as we pushed farther into the deep woods. By noon, soaked, tired and gripped tightly by the virus, my friend reluctantly tapped out, leaving me to hunt alone the remainder of the day as well as Tuesday. Wednesday dawned a bit brighter and cooler. With our third member now present and all feeling healthy, we hit the woods early. By noon, we’d crossed paths with three different bulls, two of which I passed on with the third never showing himself. I regretted passing on the second bull, which was better than 40 inches, but I was confident the hunting would improve as the week went on and the bulls heated up.
We continued our push all Thursday, hiking several miles, calling and constantly planning our next move. With less than an hour of daylight left, a decision was made to leave the spot we were in to revisit an area where we’d heard a bull that morning. We raced to the spot and within five minutes, we were met with our bull’s response then readied ourselves for the show. I was left to fend for myself while the two maestros tucked into the woods on the opposite side of the road and commenced with a symphony of raking, bull grunts and cow calls.
Then I took my shot.
It’s getting harder for Maine hunters to find moose
Finding moose in Maine has gotten harder over the decades due to changes in moose habitat and the weather.
All of us were experienced hunters and skilled in tracking wounded animals, but with hardly a few drops of blood and thick woods, we abandoned the search that night and returned with the following morning’s daylight. Despite our best efforts, the decision was made to call a blood tracking dog. I’d long held reservations regarding blood tracking dogs, but Susanne Hamilton of Susanne Hamilton Lage Game Blood Tracking and her dachshund, Meggie, completely squashed all doubts.
Over the last several years, both Susanne and fellow large game blood tracker Lindsay Ware have established themselves as experts in the field, taking on hundreds of tracks and finding countless animals. Susanne informed us she had COVID, but after learning we were positive as well, she dropped what she was doing to make the three-hour drive.
When she set Meggie on the track, it was truly something special to witness. She made short work of the track and within minutes, we were standing over the bull. The shot had been true, and he’d carried the 180 grain Federal Fusion nearly 300 yards after it took his lungs. As I hugged Susanne tightly, I thanked her over and over while we shared smiles and laughs at the edge of the swamp.
The moose had a 47-inch, 17-point antler spread and was estimated to weigh between 800 and 850 pounds, though we packed it out.
One of hunting’s most redeeming qualities is its uncanny knack for humbling even the most experienced. Beyond antlers and meat, I’m grateful for the experience, lessons learned, a chance to share the outdoors with others and for the hunt of a lifetime.
