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Some of you may have read my article in the April 2015 issue of AO magazine titled, “This is in my blood”. The article highlighted my first big game harvest (whitetail) in November of 2014. It also delved in to my passion for the outdoors and a newfound LOVE for bowhunting.
My first full season of bowhunting was in 2015 and it started in May at bear camp. I had never hunted bear before and I was pumped up to say the least. I spent much of April and May shooting beavers and assisting with baiting tasks. For those of you that haven’t baited bears, it’s a full time job. Long story short, I put in 15 sits and had my target bear come in at 6:00 pm one night—the result was a grazed chest, as I dropped my bow hand to watch the arrow.
The summer months were upon us and I wanted to prepare for the opening of bow season in September.
July 1 saw Mike and I setting up seven trail cameras in five different spots. All of the locations had some action and every spot had copious amounts of moose. The excitement was palpable and I was itching to get in a tree stand after hanging four sets in August.
I utilized my early September hunts on whitetail and mule deer, as I had some great bucks on camera. My cameras soon ran dry, as most bucks had vanished into thin air, but the constant that remained was the number of moose. I had a brief taste of moose hunting in October of 2014 but I had never actually attempted to call in a moose on my own.
There was a nearby moose oasis that I had tried to get permission on during the summer. There was no occupant living on site and the landowner’s number was hard to find. Luckily, in mid-September I managed to track down the landowner and had no problem getting permission. Mike and I were excited for the chance to chase moose in this particular spot (even though other people had permission).
Our calling sessions started September 23 and I had gone out with a couple of different guys that week. The last week of the month had me starting work extremely early so I could get out early to hunt. I did my best to avoid weekends at all costs and thankfully, I have the flexibility to do so.
It was the evening of the 29th and I had set up along the edge of a swamp where I had located some beds the week prior. I started my calling session about 90 minutes before last light and quickly had a response from two different locations. Here we go… I’m alone, never called moose before, and I possibly have two bulls coming at me. We played a little back and forth and I could hear some raking of willows back in the swamp. The next thing I see is a bull coming out of some poplars to circle behind me. Instead of turning and drawing my bow, I chose to stand there like a statue, thinking he won’t see me! The bull was quickly on a hilltop silhouetted in the sunset just out of my range; it was a majestic sight. Before I knew it, he had vanished into thin air and I was walking back to my truck talking to myself.
Mike and Jordan joined me in the same spot a few days later (October 1), as the rut was in full swing. Jordan is a very experienced moose hunter, so I’m thinking this is happening tonight. We make a game plan and get set up. The calling session starts and we get an immediate response, but then the landowner pulls into the field with a combine and trucks to get the grain off—not much we can do about that. We scurry back to the truck and rip over to the other side of the property with an hour of light left. This calling session results in grunts on either side of the caller and a bull raking less than 100 metres from each shooter but darkness sets in and I once again walk back to the truck talking to myself.
I had to hunt alone the next day, so Jordan quips, “If I was you, I’d be out here first thing in the morning.” However, knowing Jordan, five minutes pass and he says, “Maybe you should give the area a rest for a couple days.” Well thanks bud, now I’m just confused and questioning my next move.
The next morning sees me in the same spot after a restless night in bed. The wind is strong and I can barely hear myself calling. Thoughts started running through my head, should I move? Should I leave? Should I walk into the bush and go right into their kitchen? I finally said screw it and sauntered into the bush about 300 metres where I found a small clearing.
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| Curtis with his archery bull moose. |
I set my bow down and let out two cow calls. Immediately I heard a branch break behind me, but no grunt. Ten minutes later, I let out two more cow calls and a couple of grunts. The next thing I knew I had a bull on either side of me at 20 metres. Wow, that came out of nowhere!
I focused my attention to the bull on my left, as I’m watching the other bull out of the corner of my eye—he is circling from my right. The gig is up with the bull on my left and he quickly turns around and walks away. I immediately turn to the right, as the second bull cocks his head and stares right at me. He is coming parallel to me 15-20 metres behind some willows. I come to full draw, as he enters a small window about two-feet wide.
I don’t remember releasing my arrow but watched it fly into him. My first thought was did I hit him? Of course I hit him; I heard a loud pop when the arrow went through. I composed myself for a few minutes and walked to the edge of the open area to scan the bush. The bull had gone maybe 40 metres and had expired in mere minutes, as my arrow got both lungs and the liver. A quick text to my wife read, “BULL DOWN!”
I quickly came to the realization that I had a giant animal on the ground and I was by myself. I gathered the troops and we had the bull loaded by noon. A quick trip home to show the kids and we were off to a friend’s house to quarter and hang it—a big thanks to Gerard, Mark, Mike and Glen for all the help that day.
May it forever be calling season for all the bowhunter’s. That first bow kill is unforgettable! ■
For previous Reader Stories click here.
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