2019 was just like the past 13 years when it came to hunting the “Big 3,” bighorn sheep, mountain goat, and Shiras moose in Colorado. I was not surprised to receive the “Unsuccessful” notice for all three hunts. My brother, Doug, father, Pops, and I always apply for the same hunts, usually as a group, but with low draw odds, we always apply for the Big 3. Doug seems to be the only one in our family with any luck of drawing highly-coveted tags.
On August 30th, a voicemail popped up on my cell phone. It was from the Colorado Parks and Wildlife in which it was brought to my attention that I was #1 on the list of unsuccessful bull moose applicants. Someone had turned in their permit and as the next in line, they wondered if I would be interested accepting the permit. After my acceptance had been verified, a trip to the local Colorado Parks and Wildlife office was in order where I was able to purchase my once-in-a-lifetime tag and have a tangible permit in my possession.
The next week was spent in full-on research mode, ordering maps and studying every bit of information I could find, including researching the Huntin’ Fool Member Draw service. The service that Huntin’ Fool provides was pivotal in the scouting process prior to placing feet on the ground. I received a list of five previously drawn individuals who had hunted the unit I now had a permit in. This service proved to be very helpful with the insight and experiences of previous hunters. I was eventually able to talk with four or five members stretched out over the few weeks leading to the hunt opener. Thank you, Huntin Fool, and those who were willing to help and share their experiences. The great insight had narrowed our search area somewhat to the eastern portion of the unit, adjacent to a large tract of untouched land.
The weekend following the Labor Day stress, Pops loaded the Alaskan Camper on his truck and made the trip to our chosen search area. The only moose he saw was on the adjacent unit. Muzzleloader elk season was in progress and the numerous hunters he spoke with were helpful. Their dismal reports of moose sightings were quite believable.
Pops left on September 24th for three weeks. Part of my due diligence was an arrangement for him to meet with a local Wildlife Officer one week before the opener. The information that was provided by the Wildlife Officer was very helpful. While still at work, I received report of the progress and the lack of moose sightings.
That night, Doug and I found the camp, and the next morning, we split up and headed out in different directions. Pops headed up an old foot trail, and despite favorable reports from the Wildlife Officer and a few locals, he saw no moose or fresh sign. Doug and I split up and scouted a couple of likely spots down lower. The following day, we chose different locations but just couldn’t find any moose. Doug left that afternoon to head home to return to work.
I kept trying to contact a few Huntin’ Fool members I had been unable to reach. With only two days remaining before the season opener, I was successful in reaching out to one member who was particularly helpful. He had a similar experience the year prior, unable to locate bulls after days of searching in recommended spots. He ultimately found a good area passed on to him by a friend of a friend, also a Huntin’ Fool member.
We made the decision to relocate camp, and the area looked very “moosey,” resembling an Alaskan moose hunt in central Alaska some decades ago. With good fortune on our side, we were in disbelief that we located the exact spot recommended by our new friend.
Opening day was October 1st, and we finally reached our vantage point. Almost immediately, we spotted our first moose, then another and another. Some were as close as 200 yards, while others were more than a mile away. The first afternoon, we spotted more moose. Over the next few days, we visited the vantage point frequently.
We were four days into the season when an eager duo of college hunting enthusiasts arrived. Hunter and Nolan rolled into camp just as the sun was setting.
The next morning, we all agreed that a side canyon down the drainage would be a great place to look over. Pops and I planned to ambush a water tank in the same vicinity and were surprised to see a herd of moose shortly after sunrise. These bulls were nice, but this was only day six of a 14-day hunt.
On day seven, we relocated camp to get closer to our newest location of interest. The morning of day eight came with two bull sightings within the first five minutes of visible light. Hiking down a trail not far from the trailhead, one bull almost ran us over. The area was crawling with moose! The following three days came and went with the same sightings of a bull we eventually nicknamed “Trail Moose.” This moose spent his time roaming the trails in search of a girlfriend.
Each day, we saw new bulls, and on the evening of day 10, the weather rolled in as forecasted. The very next morning, the wind chill was -1 and a fresh 10" of powder changed the rut into full swing. As we neared a marshy location, we could hear raking, grunting, and fighting in the thick willow-littered bog. Then we saw the smallest glimpse of an amazing paddle in the thick brush. Calling and grunting to get his attention, it seemed the bull was very interested in what we were doing. Although very shy and reluctant to show himself, a few glimpses confirmed that he was the largest bull seen to date. This bull was seasoned and only gave us a short of window before retiring to bed for the day.
Day 12, back on the trail before first light, we were met once again by Trail Moose. There were also three bulls making all sorts of racket, but only one was being elusive. Calling and raking strategically was the name of the game. We spotted the tops of willows moving with the unmistakable hollow sound of a moose antler raking the brush, and it was getting closer. Taking a moment to listen for his whereabouts, the slightest noise pointed to his location. Barely visible in the brush, he was now 60 yards away with no chance of a clean shot. He just needed to take another couple of steps to a small clearing located a few yards away. Holding tight, I noticed that he kept looking over his shoulder. Another bigger bull was spotted as only the tips of his antlers came into focus. It was very clear that this bull was not going to move from his cover as his ghost-like presence never made a sound. Putting on the hip waders to cross the 30 foot wide, knee-deep slew was my only option to close the distance. I spotted the bull broadside at 50 yards with just the smallest, perfectly situated view of his vitals. A well-placed shot dropped the bull in his tracks.
Walking up on a moose is awe inspiring. Hearing the hollering, my dad began the journey to where we were. To our surprise and great fortune, “The Bull” lay on a dry section of grass surrounded by water. Celebrating and pictures led way to the enormous task of cleaning and hauling this big animal. With reinforcements needed, Pops pulled out his Satellite Phone and we called Hunter and Nolan. With everyone working to accomplish the same task, the remainder of the day and into the night was spent packing out my “Unsuccessful Moose Draw.” My Shiras moose made the Boone & Crockett All-Time Record Book by a long shot, somewhere in the upper 1/3.
Thank you to my Huntin’ Fool brothers who steered me in the right direction, to my father who humped the mountains for 19 days, to my brother/boss who worked his job and mine for two weeks, and to the local Game Warden and Wildlife Biologists who took time from their busy schedules to talk with us.
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