375 JDJ for moose

One of my great passions in life is hunting and if I were limited to one thing it would be with handguns. There is something different about hunting game with a limited range firearm such as a scoped revolver or single shot handgun. I know some people are very passionate about hunting with a bow or a muzzleloader but for me it is the short gun, so to speak.

This year I was picked for a NH moose permit. Ironically I became aware of the news the day before I got married. Hopefully this is an omen of good. I was contemplating as to what to use for this hunt. The zone is north of Concord and basically a wedge of land between Route 89 and 93. In a nutshell, a very tough area to hunt. Many people think that moose hunting is a pushover. Well I have been blessed by going on two hunts and they are far from being associated with shooting a milk cow in a pasture. Bear in mind that a moose is the largest member of the deer family, so they are a big deer and deer aren't exactly stupid. Add the fact that I am using a limited range weapon and you create a real challenge.

One of my favorite rounds is the old 45-70. Many years ago I bought a Super 16 barrel in that caliber when it first came out. I had taken many different types of game with it and would probably use it this season but the locking lug cracked on it. Off to the factory for repairs which seem to be taking an inordinate amount of time. Since I have less than a month to get good with a specialty hunting pistol I had chosen a different barrel.

Several years ago Thompson Center would hold their annual tent sale in June. I loved it in the fact that you could by a lot of things at cost. One year I had to work so Mom and Dad went to get a birthday barrel for me. Mom is a great haggler and in a nutshell she obtained a brand new .375 Winchester Super 14 blued barrel for $80. That fall I shot a nice black bear in Maine with that particular barrel. I did have some other plans for it. A man named Mike Sirois in Dover NH ran an outfit called OTT. He rechambered gun barrels using an EDM process. This process involved machining an electrode that would erode a chamber in a barrel vs. a cutter. The result is a barrel that has great concentricity and accuracy. I had him rechamber the barrel in 375 JDJ. For licensing purposes he marked my barrel as 375x444.

That year my mother was chosen for a NH moose permit and she allowed me as subpermittee to hunt. It was a rough week and I did get one small button bull towards the end of the hunt. The 375 JDJ dropped it in its tracks.

For a short time TC made the 375 JDJ as a standard caliber and Hornady made factory ammuniton for a few years. They loaded up a 220 grain flat point at 2200 fps. Across my chronograph the factory ammunition ran 2230 on average out of the 14" barrel. I never handloaded for it until now. Hornady discontinued the caliber as well as TC except for custom shop chamberings. Too bad as it fills a gap.

I took a Leupold Double Dovetail base and epoxied it into place. Screws tightened down and secured with a Burris 1.5 x 4 power handgun scope mounted in place. I did some shooting at the range at after sighting in at 100 yards it basically will do a 1 1/2 inch group with three shots. I will confess it has some recoil. My first shot taught me a lesson to be aware of my elbows on the bench. At the shot my elbow was driven into the weatherbeaten wood. Ouch. After zeroing in at 100 I decided to give it a rest. I have thirty factory rounds left. I will dedicate those for hunting while taking the rest of the empty brass and load them up for some practice. Hopefully I will be in shape for the opening day in October. It is coming soon.

First Handgun Black bear

I am by no means an expert bear hunter. So far I have only taken three black bear over bait with a handgun in the state of Maine. I remember the first time I went black bear hunting in the Pine Tree State. A friend of the family had been going to the Grand Lake Stream area of Maine to hunt with Master Guide Dave Tobey. One year Paul had invited me to go on a hunt during the first week. He knew that I would really enjoy that type of hunt and it would be a great opportunity to get a nice black bear.

I drove north to Grand Lake Stream and found Dave's home. Dave is a very quiet and sociable person. He is very good at what he does and we soon began to discuss what to do and what not to do. My main hunting gun would be the Thompson Center Contender with the Super 16 45-70 barrel attached to the frame. So far this barrel has become my favorite. I have taken deer and wild boar with this barrel with the possibility of taking a nice black bear with it. As a rule I hand load all of my ammunition but for this hunt I had used Federal factory ammunition. A 300 grain hollow point load that shot well out of my gun.

I learned a great deal about black bears while hunting that first year. Black bears have poor eyesight. This is more than compensated by their nose and hearing. They have padded feet thus they can shuffle through the woods rather silently. To go with the scent issue I made sure that my hunting clothes were as scent free as possible. I washed daily before the afternoon hunt in scent free soap and used scent killer spray. I did not use any bug repellent but covered my face with a thin layer of Vaseline. One of the dreaded creatures of the North woods is a gnat called the no see um. This minuscule virago is able to penetrate head nets and will leave a burning welt on your skin the size of a dime. Just thinking about them made me scratch my head. Another thing I learned is that when I went to the bait site I asked the guides assistant to walk me to the stand. You see the bear has learned that the baiter's scent means food. If I stepped in the same footsteps as the assistant then that would minimize the contact with the bait area . One of Dave's assistants is a member of the Passamaquoddy Nation in eastern Maine. As a rule, Curt did not speak much. He tended to keep his own counsel and I was told he didn't like too many people. For some reason, we hit it off.

The first night was spent on a bait site next to the tribal lands. It was quintessential Down east Maine woodlands. A bit of a mixed hardwoods but mostly softwoods consisting of spruce, hemlock and balsam. As I sat still as a statue I spotted something. Sure enough, it was a black bear. I didn't know what to make of it but the bear stood broadside to me about twenty yards away. I could have made an easy shot with the Contender but for some reason I didn't want to take the first thing I saw. Soon the bear ambled off without a clue that I was perched above him.After a while the sun began to set in the western sky. At dusk I saw two shapes. One large, the other rather small. It was a sow and her cub. I knew that in Maine it would be legal to take the bear but I don't want to leave an orphan. That cub would not survive and the next day I would find out more about bears and their behavior. That night I was excited about telling all the other hunters in camp of what I had witnessed. Dave agreed that the bear would show up again so I hunted the next day at the same site.

I was escorted by Curt to the site and climbed into the stand. As I sat there I contemplated many things. I think all hunters become very introspective. One of the joys of hunting is the solitude that one can obtain. I have commented that at times I feel closer to God in a tree stand or mountain top than in a Church. I know that may sound sacrilegious but I am sure others have had the same feeling. I am surrounded by the wonders of Creation.

Towards the afternoon I spotted the mother bear and her cub. They came out earlier. The cub would bobble through the woodlands following and staying close to her side. The little guy was a sight to behold. Then all of a sudden, the mother made a sound."Whoof." The little cub ran up a tree next to me. He was at eye level about ten feet away. At that instant the mother took off in a beeline. She moved so fast that there was a cloud of leaves and other forest detritus behind her as she took off. Then she ambled back. Soon she repeated that behavior again. She took off after something. I was looking around and still saw the little cub in the tree next to me. He seemed somewhat concerned and had a look of fear and confusion in his little black eyes. I peered off to the southeast and saw another bear. It was the bear I saw yesterday at about 4:00PM . It was a male bear of about two hundred pounds or so. One fact of bear biology and behavior is that male bears can be cannibalistic. They will kill and eat a cub so they can mate with the female again. I know it is harsh but that is the way nature works at times. I feel blessed in having witnessed such a show in nature. Many people go through their lives without seeing the workings of nature . Many get their natural experiences from a visit to the zoo or a nature program on television. That cannot compare to the real thing.

The next night was rather uneventful. It became hot and humid for that time of year. I was in another stand. I told Dave that I don't want to hunt in that spot. I can't tell the difference between the male and female and I will not shoot a bear with a cub. Self defense would be the exception. I think that impressed Dave and he put me on another stand that was close to the New Brunswick border.

That Thursday evening I went out with Curt and he dropped me off at this level site. The woodlands were very thick and near a stream shadowed by tall spruce and hemlock. I was facing west towards a bait in a small clearing. I climbed the wooden stand and sat still. I don't know how long it was but after a while I spotted a black bear. It was alone and there was nothing with it. I learned that a female with a cub will usually stick very close together. The little fur balls will be within twenty feet of their mother. This bear was alone and after several minutes had moved towards the bait. I raised the TC Contender and centered the cross hairs of the Burris 2x on the shoulder area. I slowly squeezed the trigger. It is hard to believe but time slows down when you take the shot. I could see the bear through the cross hairs as the shot went off . She dropped in her tracks. The Federal 300 grain hollow point did the job. I learned it was a dry female a few years old. She did not have a cub with her and there was evidence she was not nursing. I felt elated at my first bear. I attached my tag and then put a sprig of balsam in her mouth. I remember as a child listening to my father's friend who had hunted in Germany. He talked of the traditions that were ingrained in the hunting culture of that nation. One such was the last bite. A branch is placed in the mouth of a game animal taken and one would then sit and contemplate the life of that animal. It has always been a time for prayer. Whenever I had taken an animal I would say a short prayer of thanks. I waited until night fall and soon spotted the headlights of the Toyota pick up truck that Curt drove. He congratulated me on my first bear and we spoke of hunting and the traditions associated with it. He said that following his people's tradition he would burn some sweet grass or a smudge. I believe that there is a connection between hunters that transcends most other bonds.

At camp we skinned out the bear. We had weighed it at the check station and it went at 140 lbs. That is the average Maine black bear as far as weight is concerned. I was very happy and elated at the first bear. When I arrived home I made arrangements to have the head mounted. As I sit here there is a reminder of that first bear hunt in Maine in the den. This would not be my last trip to Maine for bear. The following year I would take my largest bear of my life , but that is another story.

The Cow Trick

This was an exciting time in my life. I had a summer full of travel over Alaska as well as much of the Great Plains and Rocky Mountain West. Now the culmination of that first summer across the big river would be a guided hunt for pronghorn antelope in the state of New Mexico. This would be the first hunt "out West " for me. To make it more distinguished was the fact that I would be hunting with a single shot handgun. Most people who hunt this magnificent animal use a flat shooting rifle with a variable scope . This would be a challenging hunt not only for me but for the guide. I was a member of HHI and had read about pronghorn antelope hunting in many of the western states. I had made it a point to research and make some phone calls to fellow members as to who would they use for a guide. I came across a story about a guided hunt with Joe Jakab and his outfitting service,Point Blank Hunts. My guide, who is also a first class taxidermist, was Karl Brosig .

I had arrived the day before the August private land season for antelope was to open in New Mexico. We were scheduled to hunt in the northeastern portion of the Enchanted State near the town of Raton. I had driven down a long dirt road to the ranch once owned by a man named Crews Wells. The family had owned the ranch for generations but unfortunately lost it due to inheritance tax. I could understand how he felt as one of my student's family went through the same situation. They were land rich but money poor but the Infernal Revenue Service didn't see it that way. Anyways, I have a bad tendency to go off on a tangent like that with such things.

I met Karl and Nolan Henry the camp cook. Nolan was an interesting character. He was a retired USMC drill Sergeant who worked as the camp cook. He was a wonderful fellow to chat with and always had a good word about things in life. I helped them out set up the large army tents for the camp and then helped Nolan with his cook set. I believed that assistance helped out when I had some "technical difficulties" while trying to get within range of my pronghorn.

That night I slept soundly as the other hunters arrived in camp. The next day I was off to the other side of the ranch . The ranch was approximately 44,000 acres in size. To someone who lived in Massachusetts for one person to own such a piece of land was hard to comprehend . I was dropped off at one spot overlooking a large arroyo and a flat area. As I sat there I had some difficulty comprehending how to hunt these animals. The guide told me that the antelope would be traveling in front of me. Well, there was one that was more than traveling. It was running. These creatures don't exactly move too slow. This thing was clipping right along. They seem to have a natural gait when running. Their bodies remain at an even level while the legs gyrate into locomotion. Other game that I have seen seem to arch their backs when running. This animal seemed to naturally run. I realized that this was going to be tougher than I had imagined, especially with a single shot 30-06 handgun.To a life long New Englander the biggest shock was the openness of the terrain. I have shot deer at ten yards in my hunting career yet here I was in terrain that looked like this

The gun that I took with me out West is a semi custom made single shot called the Competitor. The Competitor uses a rotating breech like a howitzer cannon. You turn the large knob end clockwise to open the breech and drop the shell in . A turn counterclockwise closes and cocks the firearm. This handgun was very accurate. At the NRA's Whittington Center I shot a 2" group at 200 yards off a bench rest. Needless to say the gun would do the job. The bad thing was that the gun was less than reliable. I had a number of misfires. It seemed that I was getting light primer strikes and this would happen a number of times as I was taking aim at some wonderful antelope. I suspect that the striker lost a certain amount of energy as it made that U turn through the breech block.

After that first morning I got a tad antsy and decided to move around. I was on the edge of this large arroyo that was crescent shaped. It partially encircled this flat pan. On the other side were a group of antelope browsing the flat desert plain. I was amazed at their sense of vision. They spotted me from what I gathered to be one mile away. I could visualize this plain area as one square mile as I reside on a lake with a body of water approximately the same size. This was not going to be easy. I thought to myself that if I get down into the arroyo I may be able to sneak up within a certain range of them. Well, I got down and walked a ways. After a bit in the 100 degree sun I ran out of water. I had taken some with me but apparently not enough. I noticed I felt a tad light headed and figured I had better rest. After sitting for a while I spotted Karl's truck. He picked me up and we headed off with the rest of his hunter's for some lunch. He queried me as to how well I did. I told him what happened. I wondered if he questioned my wisdom in using a single shot handgun.

We then went out for the afternoon. I sat on the other end of the flat plain I was on after telling him what I had seen. I hate to say it but my only cover was a fence post. Again this openness was bugging me. Believe it or not I hunt behinds people's homes with a bow and arrow and they are unaware of it. There vegetation can conceal many things. Here there was no concealment to speak of. I knew that these animals had excellent eyesight and can discern movement very well. How would I be able to get within range of one of these animals? I did learn some things. I noticed that antelope run in small herds and that the males tend to be loners. The small herd would be led by a dominant doe. I watched one small herd run across the open flat I was in and stop . The lead female ran up to the fence and then ran a small circle around the herd. Then the whole herd seemed to follow her through this one opening.

That night we ate well. We exchanged stories and pleasantries. It seemed that my New England accent was a point of amusement for some. We retired for the evening. I sort of enjoyed sleeping in the large canvas tent on the arid plain of New Mexico. The next day came quickly.

We all awoke to a wonderful breakfast made by Nolan and then plans were made. I would be with a couple of people and a friend of his as a guide. We took off in his Suburban and then did some spot and stalk. To make a long story short I had some 'technical difficulties'. Remember how I stated that this single shot pistol had a cannon like breech. Well I got some misfires on antelope. I was upset and getting angry at the failure of the thing to fire on many occasions. I am not sure why but I blew some shots. I remember a nice stalk on a trophy antelope and then nothing. The gun malfunctioned again. I was ready to smash it.

That day I took some good natured ribbing and then we headed back to camp. That evening we experienced a large thunderstorm. In fact lightning struck nearby and killed two cattle about two hundred yards from the camp.

The next day we went off. I cleaned my gun and we were ready. This was the final day of the hunt and we planned to use the " cow trick". One of the great weaknesses of antelope is the gift of their acute vision. I surmise that there is a cost to such powerful vision. It must be with depth perception. You can take a plywood cut out of a cow and use it as a movable blind. Karl and I took the cut out and we were able to stalk within forty yards of this one large antelope. It was rough because we did a lot of knee crawling. One of the things I learned was that the ground is rocky, hard and does have some cactus. I did kneel on one nice big cactus that did not tickle.

Anyways. We did very well sneaking up on this animal as it grazed. I then used my ALICE pack stuffed with a sleeping bag as a rest. I put the cross hairs on the animal and took the shot. The 165 grain hand loaded Barnes X bullet took out the antelope. I was elated at the news as Karl watched it drop through the binoculars.We then retrieved my prize and headed to town where it would be processed.

That hunt took place many years ago but I can still close my eyes and see it happening now. Many times I wished I could relive that moment of stalking such a magnificent animal on the open terrain of the Great American West. Maybe I will be able to repeat that experience again. Time will tell.

Spring Break

" You got him Hoss. Hit'em again." " Keep firin!" Those were the words of my guide Mike when I shot my first trophy wild boar in the state of Florida. The memories of this hunt go back to February of 1986. I was on a long camping trip with my family throughout the state of Florida and wanted to do some wild boar hunting. I had read much about hunting these animals but never had the experience of going out for them. Now would be the opportunity to do something that most of my fellow New England hunters have not accomplished.

At one time I belonged to a group called Handgun Hunters International. The organization published a newspaper every two months with stories by fellow members who have hunted various game animals around the US and overseas. There were many stories that titillated my hunting appetite and a number of them focused on hunting feral hogs. I had read some stories about hunting these animals in Florida and contacted one of the members. I wanted some good information regarding who I should use as a guide. One of the facts of life regarding Florida is that the best hunting is on private land and unless you own the land or are related to a landowner, you have to pay to hunt. It seems that all of the farms, ranches and orchards lease their properties to clubs, individuals or outfitters. That is a fact of life. What I liked about the articles in HHI's The Sixgunner was that the members were very candid about their hunts. If a guide or outfitter was doing a poor job you would read about it. So after a short phone call to Florida I arraigned to go on a hunt with Mike Acreman of Dixie Wildlife Safaris in Lake Wales Florida.

As a young man I sort of fell in love with that part of Florida. Lets play a game. We'll do some visualization. Close your eyes. When you think of Florida, what are some of the images that come to mind? For some it will be white sandy beaches. For others it will be one of the Disney theme parks. For some it will be bikinis. Sorry. I had to throw that in. For me, my image is taken from a scene of the Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. Palmettos. Long leaf pines. Hammocks with Osceola turkeys going about their daily business. To me that is the real Florida and not something that resembles a strip mall.

We arrived at the entrance to the ranch and drove down to the lodge. I met Mike and he was a very amicable person. My mother and father took off to a campground on the other side of the lake that the ranch bordered. Then I unloaded my gear and we headed out in a swamp buggy. This ride was a unique treat. In south Florida a popular means of transportation on these big ranches is with a swamp buggy. I learned that they are made from an old pick up or jeep and generally have no brakes. You use engine compression to slow down. They don't go fast but they tend to plow through most anything. I had taken a 44 magnum revolver for the hunt. I bought a blued Ruger Super Blackhawk with a 7 1/2"barrel with black rubber Pachmayer grips. I had practiced with it incessantly and was a pretty good shot. I began handloading my own ammunition at the age of 15 thus I used some loads of my own creation on this hunt. I had loaded up some Speer 240 grain jacketed soft points over a maximum charge of 2400 powder. I had good groups and I felt confident of taking game with it.

We went through some palmettos when Mike exclaimed," John. There is an armadillo there."I spotted the strange creature and had never seen one in real life. I took careful aim and let the hammer drop. The 240 grain soft point anchored the animal very quickly. From what I learned they are somewhat of a pest in south Florida digging up yards and gardens. Sort of like a woodchuck in many ways.

I retrieved my prize and then we headed back to the camp. After a meal that would scare most heart doctors we retired for the evening and the went to bed. I arose early and had another lumberjack style of breakfast with Mike. We soon headed out to the woodlands. We drove in the swamp buggy throughout the citrus orchards, pastures and woods. I was mesmerized by the natural beauty of Florida . Clear sandy streams. The palmettos and the great variety of bird life. To me this beat anything Mr.Disney could offer any day of the week. We saw deer and a wide variety of exotic game. The ranch is a working cattle and citrus ranch along with offering hunts for exotic game animals. The deer, feral hogs and turkey are very much wild. They would not sit there and let them look at you.

We then began a slow hunt through the palmettos. Soon we spotted two small wild boar. These boar are good for eating. When a wild boar gets above 100 to 150 lbs or so they mature and can become very tough. These meat hogs as they are known make fine table fare. There were two lined up and I we belly crawled within pistol range. I had cocked the hammer of my Ruger and had a clear sight picture on the chest of one black boar. I dropped the hammer and the shot went off. The boar fell in it's tracks.

I was elated at my first big game animal taken with a handgun. In the past I had taken small game such as raccoon,squirrel and opossum but never a large game animal. It was a happy feeling that is hard to put in print. I guess you have to be there , so to speak, to understand.

I was planning to take another boar when we met the ranch manager. He informed us that there was a huge wild boar that someone wounded and needed to be put down. He knew I had a large revolver that would end the suffering of this animal. This trophy sized boar had been difficult to find after being hit . One of the ranch hands spotted the animal in a small clearing and let the manager know about it. We then took off and crept as close as we could to the animal. I can see it in my mind now. The boar had been sleeping. His head facing to the left of me slightly turned with his chest exposed for a clear shot. I had cocked the hammer and had placed the sights on the vitals. I squeezed the trigger and soon the handload was on it's way to do the job.

" Youo got him Hoss.Hit'em again!" It was at that first shot that I realized when a boar gets to that size they aren't pushovers. I hit him in the shoulder and he got up , stood and then looked at me. I was flabbergasted at the scene. "Keep firing!" . I cocked the hammer and fired again. Then again. Yet again. I was amazed at the punishment this animal took to drop in it's tracks.

The boar expired and it's suffering was ended. What lay before me was a true record book wild boar and memories that still last clearly to this day.

NH Handgun moose

" John. I have a big surprise for you when you get back from your trip." I asked what it was over my cell phone. I had been away for a week or so with Mary, my soon to be fiance, in the state of Maine on a weeklong camping trip. We had toured a good portion of the state and were headed back home. I found out what the surprise was when I met my parents. In the mail was a New Hampshire moose permit.

I could not believe my eyes. I had been applying for moose permits in the states of Maine, Vermont and New Hampshire for quite some time. I never thought I would get lucky and they would pick my name for the hunt. I had been selected to take one moose in zone B1. This area is located in the region called the Great North Woods in Coos County New Hampshire. This is what you can call quintessential New Hampshire. Many of the small towns such as Columbia Falls, Stewartstown and Colebrook fall into images conjured up by the words of Robert Frost.

At the news of that event I began in earnest to prepare. Not only would I hunt moose but I would use a handgun. I have been enamored with handgun hunting since I was eighteen years old. I had been blessed with the opportunity to take many types of game with a handgun and this would be a crowning achievment in my eyes. Getting picked in the moose lottery is tough and many people have applied for years with no success. I was fortunate to be chosen.

I knew what gun I would be using. I have had a love affair with the Contender and my favorite barrel is a Super 16 chambered in the venerable 45-70 Gov't. This was one of the first Super 16 barrels made by Thompson Center in the mid to late eighties. I remember buying it at Kittery Trading Post on a day trip with some friends. The barrel is tapered and unported. I mounted a Redfield 2-6 x variable scope. I figured that I could use low power for any close shots and crank it up if the game was at the end of the effective range of the round. In the past I had JD Jones of SSK Industries mount a TSOB scope base and had them clean up the chamber. This barrel shoots very well and had up to that point taken deer, wild boar and black bear. Now moose would be added to the list of game .

I practiced incessantly with the gun. I sighted in off the bench at 100 yards but then conducted all of my practice with a Storey Point mono pod. I would shoot twenty rounds in what I called field shooting positions. I'd stand outside the shooting house and using the monopod take a shot at the target. I would shoot five shots and then switch the barrel to a Super 16 in 22 lr. I'd shoot twenty rounds or so and then switch the barrel back for five rounds of the 45-70 . Now as you can tell from my image I am a bit stout but the unported 45-70 in a single shot handgun will test the mettle of anyone. I find five shots is my limit for any extended shooting. After that I need to rest my hand and wrist for a while. The 22 lr helped out quite a bit in my shooting practice.

During that summer I made a number of camping trips with Mary throughout the region to find some good moose hunting grounds. We would see moose and take some pictures but Dad and I talked and we chose to hire a guide. I know some will state that it was foolish but you need to remember that we don't live in the area and there are some places that may not be accessable to us. Then there is the care of the game issue. A moose is a very large animal and you need someone to help bring it out of the woods.

This has happened to me in the past but of all times I had an equipment malfunction. The Redfield scope that served me so well, died. This was three days before the hunt. Talk about having a coronary. I quickly switched scopes to a Burris 4x and sighted in. I was ready.

Dad and I drove north from Massachusetts to the Granite State and across the White Mountains. For some reason the ride up seemed to take an inordinate amount of time. We arrived at the guide's camp and unloaded our gear. The plan was for us to be dropped off at a prescouted area and wait for a moose to show up. This was my first time hunting moose . My father hunted moose before I was born in Newfoundland. In fact while hunting my mother shot one large cow on that trip. What was special about that trip was that she dropped the moose with one shot behind the ear at a good three hundred yards away. Open sigts at that. The guide they had was so flabergasted that he got drunk and was out of commission for a few days.

Back to New Hampshire. That first opening day offered a shot at a huge bull. We were sitting on the edge of a large clear cut when we spotted a small moose cross in front of us and climbed up this mountain like you would negotiate a set of stairs. After about a half hour a huge bull crossed. I wanted to take him but he was too far out. I had tried to crawl into range and I might have been able to take him but chose not to. I didn't want to take a chancey shot. My Dad was with me as a subpermittee and was pushing his 30-06 rifle to me. I declined. I worked too hard to shoot one with the rifle. I wanted to take a bull with the handgun. Soon the big bull was gone.

After that we didn't see anything except one cow moose. In fact while sitting on that hillside we watched a cow and calf go up to my pick up truck and poke their heads into the bed of the truck. I wished I had been able to take a picture of that . We did spot a large bull but we could not figure out how to get within range. We worried that this was the only spot that we could hunt moose. If we burn it here we may go empty handed.

The next day we went out in the morning . It was somewhat foggy and there was a drizzle. The guide had spotted three moose. One cow, a calf and a large fork horn for a lack of a better term. We had walked up the logging road and then stalked to about 100 yards of an opening in the older clear cut.

Off to the north was the bull. The guide let out some throat vocalizations and he stopped. At that point my eyeglasses were fogged over and I had to wipe a lens to see the game. The moose was broadside to me when I rested the cross hairs on it's chest. I squeezed the trigger and the hammer fell. I felt the gun move but could not discerne the recoil. When hunting that seems to be the case. You don't feel the kick, so to speak. The moose turned and ran up the hill. He stopped and then I shot again. The bullet struck the heart area. Soon the mighty bull was begining to stumble. After two or three steps, he fell forward and expired.

I had a sense of elation and accomplishment. One factor that was missing was my father. He was at the bottom of the hill . I had wished he was at my side but he knew I connected with the shots. The moose was hit at 125 yards with two shots to the lungs. The guide was somewhat surprised. He never knew someone could shoot a handgun so well. He found the two bullet holes. They were a measured 1 1/2" apart from each other.

After the ATV was used to drag the bull down we went to the check station in Pittsburg for the metal tag. I was happy and proud of this event. Some people may laugh at a moose and think of it being a buffoon but the truth is, when they are hunted they are anything but the Bullwinkle of animation fame. They become very wary and can use those huge legs to transport themselves out of an area very quickly.

After that moose I got lucky again. My mother obtained a permit for moose and I was the subpermittee. I again shot another handgun moose in 2005 but that is another story and there are some things that are difficult for me to talk about. Some things went wrong on that hunt and created some issues that now have been resolved.