thedrifter
12-10-03, 07:13 AM
Issue Date: December 15, 2003
Calling all moose!
Newfoundland bogs offer big-game adventure
By Ken Perrotte
Special to the Times
Scarred bark 9 feet high. Branches as big as forearms, snapped like twigs. Your first encounter with a tree savaged by the antlers of a bull moose marking its territory is sobering.
You can hunt moose, the deer family’s largest member, in many northern locales, but nowhere do you have the opportunity to see as many wild moose as in Newfoundland.
A fall hunt affords a shot at a Newfoundland grand slam: moose, woodland caribou and black bear all on the same hunt, often at a cost comparable to some Western elk hunts and dramatically less than an Alaskan hunt for a single moose or brown bear. Outfitters are allotted 10 percent of licenses to accommodate nonresident hunters. Most outfitters advertise 100 percent success rates with caribou and 80 percent to 95 percent with moose.
I had moose and caribou tags in my pocket. Naturally, visions of a big-antlered Eastern Canadian moose filled my dreams. Trophy animals can sport antlers more than 50 inches wide.
Count on weather to affect decisions in the field. Normally, during a late September or early October Newfoundland hunt, frost greets hunters in the morning and the cool weather stimulates moose movement. Day temperatures, however, ranged from the high 70s to low 90s for nearly two weeks before our arrival.
Cleanup from Hurricane Isabel almost was finished in Virginia when we drove up the East Coast to Nova Scotia in late September, catching the ferry to Newfoundland. Hurricane Juan slammed into Nova Scotia the next evening.
The far northeastern edge of the storm created nearly 48 hours of high winds and intermittent rain in Newfoundland. Daytime temperatures hovered in the 70s with record warm nights.
In such conditions, no critter — four-legged or two-legged — likes to move around much. The post-storm forecast called for more rain and warm temperatures.
“This could be a tough week,” said Cory Saunders, my Newfoundland Wilderness Outfitters guide. “If anyone said we’d be hunting in T-shirts on Sept. 29, I’d have said they’re nuts.”
“But,” he added in his thick accent as he set his jaw, “I tells me hunters, if you’re meant to get a moose, you will. There ain’t a moose behind every tree, as some would have you believe, and the real slab-horned, trophy animals are usually the hardest to come by. Then, again, there are some hunters who are just lucky and see one right away.”
Saunders, 30, is a no-nonsense guy who will bounce you into the backwoods on an all-terrain vehicle along “Axle-break Alley” logging trails before leading you on a sweat hike to bogs and meadows where few hunters venture.
The opening morning was as forecast — high winds with rain. Ample signs indicated bull moose in the area, but it likely was hunkered down.
An outpost cabin — no power or running water, but comfortable bunks and good grub from the Coleman stove — was home for the second day. Thousands of acres of bogs were connected by small patches of scrubby spruce and well-worn game trails.
Bog hopping, moose hunting
High winds and rain squalls again were the daily fare. We cruised an expansive bog on an eight-wheeled Argo vehicle, working our way to the edge, where the ground was a little firmer. A solitary cow caribou watched us from a perceived safe distance.
Suddenly, Cory said, “Moose!”
A massive, dark-brown shape emerged from the spruce just 80 yards away. When the animal lowered its head, it displayed the antlers of an average-sized bull.
“What do you think?” I asked Cory while inspecting the moose through my rifle’s scope.
“Don’t know. It’s up to you,” he said. “There’s more in here that’s a lot bigger.”
The moose must’ve spotted us. He wheeled as gracefully as a 1,000-pound animal can back into the spruce. It didn’t matter. I already had lowered the rifle, understanding guide lingo for, “I wouldn’t shoot it.”
We maneuvered through a stand of timber to a long, narrow section of bog and set up to wait for the afternoon. Just before noon, we heard a sound akin to a dog coughing. I glanced to my left. A stag caribou was plodding along the brookside trail we had used.
The good-sized caribou offered an unbeatable 25-yard broadside shot. The stag bolted forward at the report of the .300 Winchester Short Magnum round and piled up 80 yards away.
We quickly retrieved, field-dressed and halved the animal to allow the meat to cool, planning to remain in the bog waiting for a moose. Wind and cool rain helped offset the warm temperature, but we knew we’d have to bail from the scene earlier than expected so the meat wouldn’t spoil.
The next day’s plan called for a morning hunt a couple of miles from the lodge, followed by a return to the outpost cabin.
The weather forecast, though, had me reconsidering my plan to try to hold out for a trophy bull. As many a sage hunter has observed, “You can’t eat the antlers.” Cory in his ATV, lights off roared down the rocky logging trail in the predawn darkness.
Veering off the main road, we gunned through a 200-yard archway of mature alders known as “Tunnel Road.” Leaving the ATV, we slipped through a sliver of woods and popped out at the edge of a bog.
Cory motioned for silence, cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a cow bawl that echoed eerily across the valley. Within seconds, we heard a bull answer from woods to the left. Simultaneously, a cow moose appeared 200 yards away standing on the other side of a pond, staring toward us.
The bull stopped calling, so we skirted the pond’s edge and set up in another location. After repeating the calling sequence, we soon heard timber snapping and the clear response of a nearby bull.
“Cool!” I smiled back at a grinning Cory.
The bull seemed eager to engage, answering almost every call, but then hung up on us like an old turkey gobbler that has successfully attracted a harem of hens. We carefully circled left and closer, keeping the wind in our favor.
Cory grunted out another challenge.
Snap! Deadfall spruce was cracking in the woods as the moose approached. Anticipation built. You’re never sure what size animal will appear — a spike-horned adolescent or a massive adult.
“There he is,” Cory whispered.
The moose stood motionless at the field’s edge, only 100 yards away. He was a little smaller than the moose I’d passed on the day before, but myriad thoughts entered the equation — especially the expected return of prolonged rain and wind through the remainder of the week.
“It’s up to you,” Cory said, asking more than stating.
“I think I’ll take him,” I said, sliding right and chambering a round.
Cory grunted a final time and the moose marched into the clearing. The sheer body mass of such a creature is a formidable sight for a first-time moose hunter.
I squeezed the trigger. The bull dropped from a spine shot at just 52 yards.
Temperatures neared 80 degrees as we field-dressed and quartered the animal for the trip back to camp. He wasn’t the wall-hanger that most hunters hope for, but the empty coolers in my vehicle would be brimming with some of the best-tasting wild venison available.
Temperatures fell and winds subsided the next week and hunters began scoring some big bulls. You can control a lot of things on a hunt, but not the weather. Given the conditions, multiple hunters taking both a moose and caribou during our week in camp was a great success.
As the Newfies — Newfoundlanders — say, “Got me moose!”
Ken Perrotte is a freelance outdoors recreation writer in King George, Va.
Planning a Newfoundland hunt
•Travel:
You can fly to Newfoundland, but airline connections are limited. If you live within a couple thousand miles, consider pooling resources and driving to the hunt. Bring enough coolers for the meat (250-350 pounds of boned meat per moose). Dry ice is scarce.
Head to North Sydney, Nova Scotia, and board the Marine Atlantic ferry (800) 341-7981 or www.marine-atlantic.ca, to Port-Au-Basques, Newfoundland.
Army Chief Warrant Officer 2 Greg Conrad, 1461st Transportation Company, and retired Chief Warrant Officer 4 Kenneth Hughes, of Michigan, were among the hunters lined up for the ferry crossing. A huge, insulated cooler box was strapped to their trailer. They each took a caribou. Another vehicle towed a generator-powered refrigeration box.
•Meat importation
The U.S. Agriculture Department requires meat and trophies to be inspected at designated border crossings.
Houlton, Maine, is the most common point of return for Newfoundland trips. Verify inspection hours with the U.S. Customs office.
•Outfitters
Nonresidents must be guided. A moose hunt usually costs between $2,500 and $3,500, which includes the license.
Package hunts for moose and caribou are a good deal. Good outfitters have many repeat hunters. Contact Newfoundland Wilderness Outfitters at www.newfoundlandwildernessoutfitters.com, toll-free at (866) 270-0573, or e-mail at rsaunders@nf.sympatico.ca.
For a useful guide listing government-approved outfitters and advice on other outdoor recreation opportunities, contact Tourism Newfoundland and Labrador at (800) 563-6353 or see www.gov.nl.ca/tourism.
continued.....
Calling all moose!
Newfoundland bogs offer big-game adventure
By Ken Perrotte
Special to the Times
Scarred bark 9 feet high. Branches as big as forearms, snapped like twigs. Your first encounter with a tree savaged by the antlers of a bull moose marking its territory is sobering.
You can hunt moose, the deer family’s largest member, in many northern locales, but nowhere do you have the opportunity to see as many wild moose as in Newfoundland.
A fall hunt affords a shot at a Newfoundland grand slam: moose, woodland caribou and black bear all on the same hunt, often at a cost comparable to some Western elk hunts and dramatically less than an Alaskan hunt for a single moose or brown bear. Outfitters are allotted 10 percent of licenses to accommodate nonresident hunters. Most outfitters advertise 100 percent success rates with caribou and 80 percent to 95 percent with moose.
I had moose and caribou tags in my pocket. Naturally, visions of a big-antlered Eastern Canadian moose filled my dreams. Trophy animals can sport antlers more than 50 inches wide.
Count on weather to affect decisions in the field. Normally, during a late September or early October Newfoundland hunt, frost greets hunters in the morning and the cool weather stimulates moose movement. Day temperatures, however, ranged from the high 70s to low 90s for nearly two weeks before our arrival.
Cleanup from Hurricane Isabel almost was finished in Virginia when we drove up the East Coast to Nova Scotia in late September, catching the ferry to Newfoundland. Hurricane Juan slammed into Nova Scotia the next evening.
The far northeastern edge of the storm created nearly 48 hours of high winds and intermittent rain in Newfoundland. Daytime temperatures hovered in the 70s with record warm nights.
In such conditions, no critter — four-legged or two-legged — likes to move around much. The post-storm forecast called for more rain and warm temperatures.
“This could be a tough week,” said Cory Saunders, my Newfoundland Wilderness Outfitters guide. “If anyone said we’d be hunting in T-shirts on Sept. 29, I’d have said they’re nuts.”
“But,” he added in his thick accent as he set his jaw, “I tells me hunters, if you’re meant to get a moose, you will. There ain’t a moose behind every tree, as some would have you believe, and the real slab-horned, trophy animals are usually the hardest to come by. Then, again, there are some hunters who are just lucky and see one right away.”
Saunders, 30, is a no-nonsense guy who will bounce you into the backwoods on an all-terrain vehicle along “Axle-break Alley” logging trails before leading you on a sweat hike to bogs and meadows where few hunters venture.
The opening morning was as forecast — high winds with rain. Ample signs indicated bull moose in the area, but it likely was hunkered down.
An outpost cabin — no power or running water, but comfortable bunks and good grub from the Coleman stove — was home for the second day. Thousands of acres of bogs were connected by small patches of scrubby spruce and well-worn game trails.
Bog hopping, moose hunting
High winds and rain squalls again were the daily fare. We cruised an expansive bog on an eight-wheeled Argo vehicle, working our way to the edge, where the ground was a little firmer. A solitary cow caribou watched us from a perceived safe distance.
Suddenly, Cory said, “Moose!”
A massive, dark-brown shape emerged from the spruce just 80 yards away. When the animal lowered its head, it displayed the antlers of an average-sized bull.
“What do you think?” I asked Cory while inspecting the moose through my rifle’s scope.
“Don’t know. It’s up to you,” he said. “There’s more in here that’s a lot bigger.”
The moose must’ve spotted us. He wheeled as gracefully as a 1,000-pound animal can back into the spruce. It didn’t matter. I already had lowered the rifle, understanding guide lingo for, “I wouldn’t shoot it.”
We maneuvered through a stand of timber to a long, narrow section of bog and set up to wait for the afternoon. Just before noon, we heard a sound akin to a dog coughing. I glanced to my left. A stag caribou was plodding along the brookside trail we had used.
The good-sized caribou offered an unbeatable 25-yard broadside shot. The stag bolted forward at the report of the .300 Winchester Short Magnum round and piled up 80 yards away.
We quickly retrieved, field-dressed and halved the animal to allow the meat to cool, planning to remain in the bog waiting for a moose. Wind and cool rain helped offset the warm temperature, but we knew we’d have to bail from the scene earlier than expected so the meat wouldn’t spoil.
The next day’s plan called for a morning hunt a couple of miles from the lodge, followed by a return to the outpost cabin.
The weather forecast, though, had me reconsidering my plan to try to hold out for a trophy bull. As many a sage hunter has observed, “You can’t eat the antlers.” Cory in his ATV, lights off roared down the rocky logging trail in the predawn darkness.
Veering off the main road, we gunned through a 200-yard archway of mature alders known as “Tunnel Road.” Leaving the ATV, we slipped through a sliver of woods and popped out at the edge of a bog.
Cory motioned for silence, cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a cow bawl that echoed eerily across the valley. Within seconds, we heard a bull answer from woods to the left. Simultaneously, a cow moose appeared 200 yards away standing on the other side of a pond, staring toward us.
The bull stopped calling, so we skirted the pond’s edge and set up in another location. After repeating the calling sequence, we soon heard timber snapping and the clear response of a nearby bull.
“Cool!” I smiled back at a grinning Cory.
The bull seemed eager to engage, answering almost every call, but then hung up on us like an old turkey gobbler that has successfully attracted a harem of hens. We carefully circled left and closer, keeping the wind in our favor.
Cory grunted out another challenge.
Snap! Deadfall spruce was cracking in the woods as the moose approached. Anticipation built. You’re never sure what size animal will appear — a spike-horned adolescent or a massive adult.
“There he is,” Cory whispered.
The moose stood motionless at the field’s edge, only 100 yards away. He was a little smaller than the moose I’d passed on the day before, but myriad thoughts entered the equation — especially the expected return of prolonged rain and wind through the remainder of the week.
“It’s up to you,” Cory said, asking more than stating.
“I think I’ll take him,” I said, sliding right and chambering a round.
Cory grunted a final time and the moose marched into the clearing. The sheer body mass of such a creature is a formidable sight for a first-time moose hunter.
I squeezed the trigger. The bull dropped from a spine shot at just 52 yards.
Temperatures neared 80 degrees as we field-dressed and quartered the animal for the trip back to camp. He wasn’t the wall-hanger that most hunters hope for, but the empty coolers in my vehicle would be brimming with some of the best-tasting wild venison available.
Temperatures fell and winds subsided the next week and hunters began scoring some big bulls. You can control a lot of things on a hunt, but not the weather. Given the conditions, multiple hunters taking both a moose and caribou during our week in camp was a great success.
As the Newfies — Newfoundlanders — say, “Got me moose!”
Ken Perrotte is a freelance outdoors recreation writer in King George, Va.
Planning a Newfoundland hunt
•Travel:
You can fly to Newfoundland, but airline connections are limited. If you live within a couple thousand miles, consider pooling resources and driving to the hunt. Bring enough coolers for the meat (250-350 pounds of boned meat per moose). Dry ice is scarce.
Head to North Sydney, Nova Scotia, and board the Marine Atlantic ferry (800) 341-7981 or www.marine-atlantic.ca, to Port-Au-Basques, Newfoundland.
Army Chief Warrant Officer 2 Greg Conrad, 1461st Transportation Company, and retired Chief Warrant Officer 4 Kenneth Hughes, of Michigan, were among the hunters lined up for the ferry crossing. A huge, insulated cooler box was strapped to their trailer. They each took a caribou. Another vehicle towed a generator-powered refrigeration box.
•Meat importation
The U.S. Agriculture Department requires meat and trophies to be inspected at designated border crossings.
Houlton, Maine, is the most common point of return for Newfoundland trips. Verify inspection hours with the U.S. Customs office.
•Outfitters
Nonresidents must be guided. A moose hunt usually costs between $2,500 and $3,500, which includes the license.
Package hunts for moose and caribou are a good deal. Good outfitters have many repeat hunters. Contact Newfoundland Wilderness Outfitters at www.newfoundlandwildernessoutfitters.com, toll-free at (866) 270-0573, or e-mail at rsaunders@nf.sympatico.ca.
For a useful guide listing government-approved outfitters and advice on other outdoor recreation opportunities, contact Tourism Newfoundland and Labrador at (800) 563-6353 or see www.gov.nl.ca/tourism.
continued.....