For the past 12 years, I had been putting in for a moose tag in Montana. It had been a dream of mine to kill a moose. There is something special about these animals. I truly never thought I would even have a chance at drawing a Montana moose tag as I had always put in for one special unit in Montana. Very few tags are given in the unit. I told my husband, “Why do I have to put in for a hard unit? Why not try a unit that I might have a better shot at getting a tag?” He was very persistent and wouldn’t let me try another unit, so I continued to put in for that unit. Every year, I get excited when we must put in for tags, but I also get nervous.
On June 18, 2018, my husband sent me a text message with a picture of a successful moose draw. I never thought it was me, so I texted back and asked who the lucky winner was. When he responded back with, “YOU,” I didn’t believe him. I even called him and said there was no way I drew a moose permit. His response was, “Yes, you did, and we are going moose hunting.” I ran around my work super excited. Working for doctors, I ran straight to them first and said, “Guess what, I drew a moose tag!” I got the eye rolls but also the big hugs of excitement from them. Only a few people in the clinic I work at really knew how much of a big deal this was. I immediately put in my vacation days for the remainder of the hunting season. I was set to kill a bigger moose than my husband’s. We had planned on going over to do a few scouting trips, but our summer came and went so fast that we didn’t scout for moose at all. However, we were still determined to be gone opening weekend.
The previous year, my husband and some great friends were hunting moose in the same area. They had seen a giant moose, and he was the ghost moose. The day before the opener, we decided to go scouting for moose with a group of great people who wanted to come along and hunt with us. We decided to go to the same drainage where the ghost moose had been in the previous years. As we were driving along, my husband spotted something moving in the willows. It was “Ghost Moose.” Moose season didn’t open until the next day, so my heart was racing. You don’t see moose that big in Montana, but there he was. We decided to proceed on and not push him out of the willows or scare him. We got back to camp where a few more friends had shown up to help look for moose on opening weekend. We hunted hard over the next three days. It was hot, dry, and windy, not the greatest weather to be hunting in, but I was determined to find a moose.
For the next three days we spotted, cows, calves, and even a few small bulls but not the ghost moose or anything big enough to even think of shooting. Three days had come and gone, and now we had to head home and wait until the next weekend to hunt again. I was scared. I didn’t want to have moose tag soup. I knew it was only opening weekend, but drawing this special tag had me on edge.
The following weekend had come, and we decided to try new areas. We loaded the truck with our 5-year-old daughter (who loves hunting) and went back out for three days. It was warm. Some weather had come in but nothing to kick the rut in. We spotted a few more cows, calves, and smaller bulls. We noticed the weather was supposed to be changing later that week, so my husband and I decided we would just load the tent up in the truck and move around if we needed to. Our daughter did not make this hunt as she wanted to stay home because she didn’t want to sleep in a tent. I told my husband we really needed to focus on this one drainage people had been telling us to hunt but wait until the rut. It was getting colder, so we figured the rut would start to kick in.
On Friday while driving over, we spotted cows, calves, and a couple decent bulls but no shooter for me. As we were driving down the road, my husband spotted a huge black body moving across the hillside. It was a big bull moose pushing a cow around. We decided to stalk this moose. It was a three-mile hike to try and get above him. As we did, we lost sight of him. We spotted two other bulls with cows but again not a shooter for me. At this time, I had passed on eight bulls. My husband cow called. Nothing. I hiked down and around the willows to see if the bull had gone into them. Just as my husband started cow calling, out stepped the cow moose. She pinned me at 40 yards from her. The bull moose walked right behind her, looked at me, and then they both ran 100 yards. My husband stopped him, but I was so excited and nervous that I couldn’t get a good rest. He ran about 300 yards and never turned broadside. I’m not a fan of quartering towards me shots. He ran off, and we ran up the hillside, trying to stop them or see where they went. Poof! They were gone, never to be seen again. We set camp up, went for an evening drive, and spotted two bulls. I passed and let them go to grow up.
The next morning, we woke up to thick fog. It was very cold. We drove up to the spot where we could get cell service. My dad had called to let me know my grandpa had passed away. It was one of the hardest days of my life as my grandpa and I were close. My dad told me to get a big moose for my grandpa.
We drove to town to fuel up, hoping the fog would lift. As we drove back to camp, we spotted more bulls but nothing the size I wanted to shoot. I told my husband, “We really need to focus on this certain drainage, but let’s go to the other side and see if we can see different areas of it from a different spot.”
We didn’t even park the truck for 30 seconds when my husband yelled, “Cow! Watch her. There is a bull in there.” Just as I was getting my binos out, he yelled, “Bull!”
We needed to kill this moose. The sun was starting to set, so we didn’t have much time. We got around and started to walk to where we thought they were. I thought they were closer, but my husband said no. At that point, the bull jumped out of the willows and started to run away. All I saw were wide, massive antlers. I got down with my gun on my shooting sticks, and my husband cow called and said to hold dead on. I pulled the trigger at 320 yards. The bull went down, but they are massive animals. I got within 200 yards, and he stood up. I put another round in him. He dropped and kicked his leg up. I had just shot the moose-of-a-lifetime for me. The sun was setting, and we had a long night of packing moose out. Our great friends drove over to help. We finally got the moose out at around midnight and back to camp we went.
My grandpa guided me through this hunt, knowing it was my dream and he wanted me to kill a big moose. I dedicated my moose hunt to my grandpa who passed away that morning. Thank you to my husband who stood beside me while I passed on so many bulls and to the guys who drove hours just to help us pack the moose out.
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