Rick Cox
AH elite
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2015
- Messages
- 1,386
- Reaction score
- 2,152
- Location
- Armstrong British Colombia
- Media
- 104
- Articles
- 1
- Member of
- Armstrong Fish and Game Club
- Hunted
- Namibia, South Africa, British Colombia Ca.
Dense foliage was making it tough to find a place to call from. Wait, there was an opening. As I stepped up into it; I noticed a lot of elk bones on the ground. Most likely a yearling. No vegetation was growing for about a six foot radius. Ground was turned up, but the blood on the bones was almost dry. Looking up and I saw sets of
long rake marks on some poplar trees a few feet over my head.
I thought to myself: “Well, there’s another sign there elk are here” and proceeded to start calling. “ Nice start to retirement” I thought remembering this was my official first day.
My brother Bret was back at the lick, watching. After calling a bit I continued up the hill, a hill I had not climbed for about 48 years when I had set wolf snares along the rim of the riverbank, over the course of several snowy, frozen winters. I made my way around this area calling, waiting, moving on, till I eventually returned to meet Bret. We had been very close to a cow elk on arriving, but she jumped off chirping her alarm, and since then we had not seen more than tracks.
Back in the jet boat we continued up-river, past a long ridge that dropped from the plateau to the river flats. I remembered catching several wolves on that knife back ridge many years ago. I had a good snare set tied to a young tree growing out of the ridge. Once in the snare they would fall off the ridge and hang from the tree, dead in seconds.
Returning in the boat, we approached a shallow waterfall and despite the best efforts of my brother, we hit a submerged boulder hard! The boat launched into the air for a moment, saved by the welded aluminum hull covered by a half inch cladding of UHMW. But now we were headed for a series of boulders and boiling water, Bret opened the throttle and spinning the boat on it’s stern gained a bit of ground back upstream, spun it again, and choose an opening of deeper water about the width of the boat. Hitting the throttle hard we surfed through the opening to slower, deeper water.
Bret had to work the next day, so I headed off to an area I knew well. A pipeline was pushing through there, but I had a hunch that there might still be game around. I parked my rig and started off through a huge old cut block of maybe 1200 acres. It was growing up, but many of the old skid trails were still open and there were good sight lines and meadows here and there. I saw enough tracks to be encouraged and walked as far as I could, almost to the rim of the river we had been on the day before.
I did some calling for elk, but no answer. Climbing an old slash pile, I set up a makeshift blind and sat there for a few hours, watching an open skid trail and the surrounding area. In the early afternoon animals started moving… first a doe whitetail and fawn walked down the trail towards me, moving off after a bit. Then young and legal two point bull moose stepped out and gazed off in my direction before disappearing on the opposite side of the open trail. Suddenly I heard the bugle of a bull elk maybe four hundred yards away. I called back and he responded, and although he replied several times he moved away.
I took the time to admire my new rifle, a model 70 Winchester Super Grade I had had re-barrelled to 35 Whelen. It has real nice wood, was accurate, but I had had a few issues with mis-fires at the range. I was not sure why but before leaving home I flushed Brake Clean through the bolt hoping any assembly grease would be removed. I had bought new brass and loaded some 250 Woodleigh’s. Taking it to the range I shot off a number of rounds with no issue and felt confident with the gun. But I also brought another 35W in a Nosler as a boat gun and as insurance. Both guns had good optics; a Leica 2-10 on the M70 and Leopold VX6 3 -18 on the Nosler. I had loaded the 250 Woodleighs for the M70 and Nosler Accubond 225 gr for the Nosler.
That evening Bret told me he had been talking to a older native fellow, an avid hunter, who said he had not heard an elk bugle Since the first of September. And that was the last one I heard. The first rut was done, now it was a waiting game for the ‘echo’ rut.
Bret was having some issues with his feet and couldn’t walk far at all, much to his chagrin. We spent another couple of part days in the jet boat checking out river flats and a day in the side by side, looking around old logging slashes. We saw three different cow moose, all with calves. I think the provincial wolf cull program is working.
Nearing the end of my hunt, we decided to re-visit the logging slash and area I had hunted before and use the side by side. The plan was he would find an over view spot and I would go for a hike, and meet later. Late that afternoon, we trundled down an overgrown skid trail, now only a game trail and trap line, till we came to a windfall across the trail. Bret said “Why don’t you carry on for an hour and half or so. I will wait here and at 4:30 I’ll cut this windfall out of the way and come find you.” And so I did, passing trap sets for martin, and some fresh elk and moose, not to mention deer tracks. I knew that somewhere down here there was a nice pond and I hoped to be able to get to it. In the end I stopped here and there to call for elk in some open woods. Deciding it must be time to head back I very shortly ran into Bret in the side by side. This trail eventually opens up to a large meadow with a good-sized pond at the near end. We stopped the side by side and proceeded on foot to get a look at the pond and surrounding meadows
As we approached the opening our thoughts were on dinner but I was keeping one eye open and good thing! There spinning around to get a look at us, I saw a good bull moose through a thick screen of bush roughly 55 yards off! He knew we were there and was starting to move. Pointing I hissed “Moose!” and started running ahead to get to the meadow and a clear shot. The moose started to trot off. Bret gave out a loud bull moose grunt which stopped him in his tracks. I was clear, the moose was looking straight at me and I could see at a glance the pronounced triple points on the front palms which would make him a legal moose. I aimed and pulled the trigger: “CLICK”. What the??? Bret said something like “It’s legal, SHOOT”. I reloaded as the moose started to move again, sighted and pulled the trigger. “BANG!” The moose was hit hard, went twenty feet and laid down, I could see his horns but that was it. I had to move around some dense willows to get another shot. I heard the thud of hooves at the same time Bret now off to the left side said “There!” and there was the moose moving diagonally away from me. I aimed at the back of his ribs and pulled the trigger: “CLICK.” Ejecting that cartridge I reloaded and sighted on his butt end, now it was my turn to call, a loud “waauugh!” and the bull turned slightly towards me, giving me another shot at the rear ribs. Hoping the gun would fire I pulled the trigger again, this time with a satisfying “BANG!” The moose was obviously hit very hard but still standing, I took a rest on a sapling and aiming at his head shot again. “CLICK”. This was really not performance. I reloaded again and aimed at his head again, which was now covered by a five inch poplar tree. I waited…. And finally said to heck with this and shot through the tree. The moose threw his head straight back, his hind quarters collapsed and he dropped to the ground. Now Bret said “ I hope it’s legal”. “What do you mean legal? You said ‘it’s legal, shoot!’” “I did not! I said “Make sure its LEGAL before you SHOOT!” I was sure it was legal but now I began to doubt myself. However it only took a few steps towards the moose to see the pronounced triple points sticking above the grass. And that is what it is like to hunt with a now-retired tradesperson who spent 45 years working in industry….
I slit the bulls throat, he stretched and shuddered a few times and lay still. Bret and I shook hands and now the work began…
long rake marks on some poplar trees a few feet over my head.
I thought to myself: “Well, there’s another sign there elk are here” and proceeded to start calling. “ Nice start to retirement” I thought remembering this was my official first day.
My brother Bret was back at the lick, watching. After calling a bit I continued up the hill, a hill I had not climbed for about 48 years when I had set wolf snares along the rim of the riverbank, over the course of several snowy, frozen winters. I made my way around this area calling, waiting, moving on, till I eventually returned to meet Bret. We had been very close to a cow elk on arriving, but she jumped off chirping her alarm, and since then we had not seen more than tracks.
Back in the jet boat we continued up-river, past a long ridge that dropped from the plateau to the river flats. I remembered catching several wolves on that knife back ridge many years ago. I had a good snare set tied to a young tree growing out of the ridge. Once in the snare they would fall off the ridge and hang from the tree, dead in seconds.
Returning in the boat, we approached a shallow waterfall and despite the best efforts of my brother, we hit a submerged boulder hard! The boat launched into the air for a moment, saved by the welded aluminum hull covered by a half inch cladding of UHMW. But now we were headed for a series of boulders and boiling water, Bret opened the throttle and spinning the boat on it’s stern gained a bit of ground back upstream, spun it again, and choose an opening of deeper water about the width of the boat. Hitting the throttle hard we surfed through the opening to slower, deeper water.
Bret had to work the next day, so I headed off to an area I knew well. A pipeline was pushing through there, but I had a hunch that there might still be game around. I parked my rig and started off through a huge old cut block of maybe 1200 acres. It was growing up, but many of the old skid trails were still open and there were good sight lines and meadows here and there. I saw enough tracks to be encouraged and walked as far as I could, almost to the rim of the river we had been on the day before.
I did some calling for elk, but no answer. Climbing an old slash pile, I set up a makeshift blind and sat there for a few hours, watching an open skid trail and the surrounding area. In the early afternoon animals started moving… first a doe whitetail and fawn walked down the trail towards me, moving off after a bit. Then young and legal two point bull moose stepped out and gazed off in my direction before disappearing on the opposite side of the open trail. Suddenly I heard the bugle of a bull elk maybe four hundred yards away. I called back and he responded, and although he replied several times he moved away.
I took the time to admire my new rifle, a model 70 Winchester Super Grade I had had re-barrelled to 35 Whelen. It has real nice wood, was accurate, but I had had a few issues with mis-fires at the range. I was not sure why but before leaving home I flushed Brake Clean through the bolt hoping any assembly grease would be removed. I had bought new brass and loaded some 250 Woodleigh’s. Taking it to the range I shot off a number of rounds with no issue and felt confident with the gun. But I also brought another 35W in a Nosler as a boat gun and as insurance. Both guns had good optics; a Leica 2-10 on the M70 and Leopold VX6 3 -18 on the Nosler. I had loaded the 250 Woodleighs for the M70 and Nosler Accubond 225 gr for the Nosler.
That evening Bret told me he had been talking to a older native fellow, an avid hunter, who said he had not heard an elk bugle Since the first of September. And that was the last one I heard. The first rut was done, now it was a waiting game for the ‘echo’ rut.
Bret was having some issues with his feet and couldn’t walk far at all, much to his chagrin. We spent another couple of part days in the jet boat checking out river flats and a day in the side by side, looking around old logging slashes. We saw three different cow moose, all with calves. I think the provincial wolf cull program is working.
Nearing the end of my hunt, we decided to re-visit the logging slash and area I had hunted before and use the side by side. The plan was he would find an over view spot and I would go for a hike, and meet later. Late that afternoon, we trundled down an overgrown skid trail, now only a game trail and trap line, till we came to a windfall across the trail. Bret said “Why don’t you carry on for an hour and half or so. I will wait here and at 4:30 I’ll cut this windfall out of the way and come find you.” And so I did, passing trap sets for martin, and some fresh elk and moose, not to mention deer tracks. I knew that somewhere down here there was a nice pond and I hoped to be able to get to it. In the end I stopped here and there to call for elk in some open woods. Deciding it must be time to head back I very shortly ran into Bret in the side by side. This trail eventually opens up to a large meadow with a good-sized pond at the near end. We stopped the side by side and proceeded on foot to get a look at the pond and surrounding meadows
As we approached the opening our thoughts were on dinner but I was keeping one eye open and good thing! There spinning around to get a look at us, I saw a good bull moose through a thick screen of bush roughly 55 yards off! He knew we were there and was starting to move. Pointing I hissed “Moose!” and started running ahead to get to the meadow and a clear shot. The moose started to trot off. Bret gave out a loud bull moose grunt which stopped him in his tracks. I was clear, the moose was looking straight at me and I could see at a glance the pronounced triple points on the front palms which would make him a legal moose. I aimed and pulled the trigger: “CLICK”. What the??? Bret said something like “It’s legal, SHOOT”. I reloaded as the moose started to move again, sighted and pulled the trigger. “BANG!” The moose was hit hard, went twenty feet and laid down, I could see his horns but that was it. I had to move around some dense willows to get another shot. I heard the thud of hooves at the same time Bret now off to the left side said “There!” and there was the moose moving diagonally away from me. I aimed at the back of his ribs and pulled the trigger: “CLICK.” Ejecting that cartridge I reloaded and sighted on his butt end, now it was my turn to call, a loud “waauugh!” and the bull turned slightly towards me, giving me another shot at the rear ribs. Hoping the gun would fire I pulled the trigger again, this time with a satisfying “BANG!” The moose was obviously hit very hard but still standing, I took a rest on a sapling and aiming at his head shot again. “CLICK”. This was really not performance. I reloaded again and aimed at his head again, which was now covered by a five inch poplar tree. I waited…. And finally said to heck with this and shot through the tree. The moose threw his head straight back, his hind quarters collapsed and he dropped to the ground. Now Bret said “ I hope it’s legal”. “What do you mean legal? You said ‘it’s legal, shoot!’” “I did not! I said “Make sure its LEGAL before you SHOOT!” I was sure it was legal but now I began to doubt myself. However it only took a few steps towards the moose to see the pronounced triple points sticking above the grass. And that is what it is like to hunt with a now-retired tradesperson who spent 45 years working in industry….
I slit the bulls throat, he stretched and shuddered a few times and lay still. Bret and I shook hands and now the work began…
Last edited by a moderator: