There were several other hunters in the vicinity of the East Fork, so we took a less-traveled trail leading up a tributary river known as Wiggins Fork. The terrain here was a long draw with the bottom area along the river being fairly flat , lined with tall cottonwoods, willows and brush. We sighted a moose within about 15 minutes. Determining it was a small bull, and making sure he was on the right side of the river, I slipped out of the truck and was going to put the sneak on him when he headed right over toward us. Waiting until he was within about 80 yards and presenting a broadside shot to me , I popped him the neck with the .33. He went down right there, hunt over at about 8:00 AM.
Well, the fun was NOT over! My wife went back to bring up the Toyota as I walked carefully over to the moose, keeping a cautious eye on him. Imagine my dismay in discovering the critter was NOT on the right side of the river at all! The river divided for a ways just upstream, forming an island in midriver. The moose was on the island. I simply had not seen the situation due to the brush and terrain.
This being the Rocky Mountains, the river bed was of course entirely composed of rocks, BIG rocks, the smallest being the size of a man's head. The river at this point was maybe 40 feet wide, running fast , perhaps a foot deep at worst. Luckily, just where we needed it, we discovered where there had been a crossing at one time, with a little trail leading down to the bank. Likely, nobody had used it since the last string of oxen pulled the last freight wagon up it. Nevertheless, nothing to do but have at it. I jumped in, Nancy put it down in 4WD Low and away we went, down over the bank and bouncing throught the river over the boulders. The river was a little deeper than it looked from the bank, but we made it across in good order and backed the truck right up to the carcass.
By about noon we had the animal dressed, skinned, quartered, cooled out a little and loaded up in the Toyota. What a chore! It was a small moose, but when dealing with moose, small is a relative term. It was all we could do to wrestle the quarters up onto the tailgate and into the bed. We loaded up the gear and headed back down to the river.
I picked what looked to be a good line and headed 'er back into the river, spurring the truck right smartly as we bounded over the boulders once more, headed for the point where the trail entered the river. Nothing doing! We made to to the bank, but spun out in the slippery wet large rocks adjacent to the embankment. Several runs at it produced nothing. Backing out into the river a ways to a point where the water was not quite so deep, we pondered our situation. Finally, my wife got out and waded over to the embankment, slipping and staggering over the wet rocks in the fast-moving current. She was able after a while to move about a dozen of the biggest rocks blocking the way to the embankment. Gunning the engine for all it was worth, I gave it another valiant effort, to no avail, still spun out. I tried again, and yet again, still couldnt get out of the river and the place where I was doing all the spinning was getting deeper with each effort, the water almost over the wheels now. Finally on the fourth try the front wheels somehow found a little traction and the faithful old Tojo came leaping up out of the river at full throttle, up the embankment and onto dry land. We were home free!
We found a sunny spot among the cottonwoods out of the wind where my wife got out of her wet clothes. We had bite of lunch and headed out for the hour and half drive back to Lander, I had to keep the heater going most of the way to get her feet and legs thawed out and to keep her from getting a chill. Arriving home, we managed to get the meat hung up, then got cleaned up a bit and, being totally and completely tuckered out, spent the rest of the afternoon napping and recovering.
I know, the 2 year old moose is probably not what most of you would have shot on your once-in-a-lifetime hunt, so be it. It met all the criteria I had for my hunt. We had a grand adventure, we did not have to hike out and get help and we have a winter's worth of good eating. What more could a person want?
The moose and I:
Lunch time:
