Idaho Shiras Moose - Dad's Bull, Oct 2021
I returned to the moose woods in early October with my dad. After a challenging September hunt, I hoped things might turn around in early October. The weather forecast called for more of the same sunny and warm temps experienced on the September trip, but only for a few more days. Mid-week, a low pressure system was predicted. Hopefully some cooler, rainy weather would push the moose into some rutting activity.
This trip would be my dad's only opportunity to hunt, so all my efforts would be channeled in helping him get his moose.
"I'll shoot anything with antlers; you know I'm not picky." My dad said as we discussed our plans when we arrived at camp.
"I know. You just want moose meat." I replied, shaking my head.
Our hunt began the same as in September. We hiked around creek bottoms, old roads and ridge lines. We tried some new locations, as well as some of the same from last time. I did some calling and checked the trail cameras I had left.
Finally, a bull moose showed up on one of the cameras. This was a great sign that things might be turning around. We also saw some cows and calves in the same locations as last time. We had the "decoys", all we needed was for them to go into heat and draw in the bulls.
The fall colors were truly spectacular.
We also set some new trail cameras at some different spots.
Hunting continued to be slow, but the change of weather was approaching and we were feeling optimistic. Wednesday afternoon, the clouds started to roll in. We planned to sit that evening overlooking a confluence of creeks where we got a picture of the bull on the trail camera. We were walking to the sitting spot when I looked up to see something dark out in the opening where we planned to watch. A moose! My dad was behind me a little ways so I turned around and waved him to hurry up. I could see that the moose was a small bull. This was encouraging! By the time my dad got up to me, the moose had wandered out of sight. I doubted chasing him would yield any results, so we sat down and tried calling. The first couple hours were uneventful, but the clouds continued to get darker and the temperature was clearly dropping.
Then I heard it. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard in the woods but I immediately knew what it was; a bull moose. Off in the distance a bull was letting out a grunt sequence. Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh. Holy crap that is cool. I looked at my dad and realized, sadly, he couldn't hear it due to his slight hearing impairment. I whispered to him what was happening and he gave me a smile and a thumbs up. While my dad continued to sit and watch, I crept over to the other creek where our scent was blowing and let out a couple cow calls. Shortly after, the bull replied with another bellow. So cool! The bull and I continued to talk back and forth. I even heard another cow moose chime in but still no moose appeared. I could hear where the bull appeared to be, but it was thick timber. Before we knew it, darkness had descended and it starting to rain. The rut had finally started though and we had 2 more days to hunt. Lord willing, our luck would change.
It rained all night, but let up to a drizzle by morning. We decided to return to the same location for a morning sit. While my dad sat, I checked the trail camera nearby. I was pleasantly surprised to see that a bull had walked by the previous night 20 minutes after dark. He had come to check out my calls! I showed my dad and his face lit up.
The calling had worked. Now if we could just get one to walk out into the open... Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh.. A bull began to bellow somewhere down the creek. This time I tried grunting back and rubbing a little on some nearby trees. The bull responded back, but the morning continued on without a moose sighting.
At 9:30, I decided we needed to get more aggressive.
"Dad, let's just slowly walk down the trail. Maybe we'll catch a glimpse of one or try calling closer to where we have been hearing them."
"You sure? The wind is blowing down that direction."
"Let's go anyway; maybe we'll get lucky."
We set off down the trail, mindful of each step, eyes scanning our surroundings. Over the years I've learned how to slow down when I hunt, moving to be more like the animals than a human. A skill learned after spooking hundreds of animals by walking too fast. We had ascended the trail over a slight hill, bordered by thick conifers and aspens, when I heard a grunt immediately to our left, and CLOSE.
"Dad! Dad! A bull just grunted right over there." I whispered, pointing to our left. "We need to get a little further down the trail. There's an opening up ahead. We'll get in position and I'll call back."
We quickly tiptoed down the trail to a small opening where a point-blank encounter was less likely. We were almost to the spot when I heard another bull grunt less than 100 yards away in the bottom of a feeder creek we were nearing.
"Dad, did you hear that one?" I whispered with wide eyes.
"No, did he grunt again?" He whispered back.
"There's another bull! There's one up there and one right over there." I said, pointing to our left and then to our right. "Get rested on this tree and get ready."
We had somehow walked in between 2 bulls. I snuck behind the tree my dad had set up on and I let out a 6 grunt sequence. The bull down in the creek bottom to our right immediately replied back with 8 to 10 grunts. My heart skipped a beat. This might be our chance. I grunted back again. The bull cut me off, this time sounding closer.
Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh.
I looked over at my dad; he looked ready. This bull was coming in on a string. The bellow continued to get louder. I looked through the trees to our right and started to see legs coming through. This is really happening! The bull slowly walked toward us, grunting the entire time. Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh.
The bull was coming through a strip of trees running perpendicular to us and ending directly in front of us. I could now see antlers through the trees. The bulls head was swaying back and forth. Moo-agh...Moo-agh...Moo-agh.
The bull exited the trees, broadside at 40 yards from my dad and stopped. BOOOM!
My dad's shot was clearly a direct hit, but the bull turned around to head back from where he came and stopped again.
"Shoot him again," I urged.
BOOOM! BOOOM! The bull took 3 more steps and laid down. A minute later he collapsed, passing. I hugged my dad with pure joy.
"I finally heard what the grunts sound like!" My dad said, smiling.
"That was so cool! He really is a big moose!" I squealed back. "Shall we say a prayer right now?"
"You're going to have to say it, I'll just be crying too much." My dad replied back, tears welling in his eyes.
I said a quick prayer thanking the Lord for such an amazing encounter and precious time spent together with my father. We heard a noise to our left and looked up to see the other bull appear from the trees.
He was just a spike. My dad had gotten very lucky that the other bull was the one that came in and not this yearling. The small bull wandered back into the trees. It was time to go admire my dad's moose!
"Wow, that's a big animal!" I said shaking my head. "Let the work begin!"
We quartered up the moose as it began to rain. By 1:00, we were tired, hungry and thirsty. Luckily we were only 3/4 of a mile down the trail from camp. We hiked back to camp for a quick lunch and to grab the game cart my friend Ryan let us borrow. I had to chainsaw a few logs across the trail but then this pack out was a breeze.
By 6 pm we had all the meat back to camp. We were tired and wet, but you couldn't erase the smiles on our faces.
We packed up camp the next morning and made the long drive home. On the way, we stopped by the regional Fish and Game office to check in the moose; a requirement for all Idaho moose hunters that harvest. They were very impressed with the size of my dad's moose. His antler spread taped out at 40 inches; a decent Idaho bull. Along with antler width, they collected the samples we were encouraged to grab right after the kill: liver, blood, hide and feces. They also took a tooth and lymph node. Fish and game is studying the moose population closely to decipher why the population is on decline.
With the moose rut starting, I realized the prime window to get my moose was here. I would need to rearrange my schedule and make some sacrifices for this once in a lifetime tag.
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