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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
Yesterday was a yard clean up day and one of those days you wonder where the time went. A time when I could hunt a bull moose for under 3500 but I guess that was a lot of money in the 80's
As mentioned before I have been fortunate to take three in my life time and I would say will die with three
All of which were out of province of course
I had all professionally mounted the racks two by grant and one by some would remember James Gardine I think you spell it. One hung in the garage and two hung in the basement until last winter when they lost their wall to some new mama ikea storage units :(
The garage one hard to see in the pic was a nice bull and ended up at a friends camp for a table mount which is hard to see here in the pic a few years ago

The other two I stripped down and put outside last winter for future yard decoration with the plan of mounting the big boy on the shed which I tried yesterday but he is just too big so will be moving on to a new home with someone. The little guy is rodent food it seems so they can have it
All were taken with remington 7600 pumps one with a 308 and two with my 280 and did I say old redfield scopes :) and of course handloaded partitions

This is the table


The small one velvet cap removed on mount



My big boy. No idea what he weighed but well over 1000. He is 22 point and 35 inches deep with a 49 inch spread
 

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Memories Joe...that's the only thing we'll leave this world with...IF WE'RE LUCKY !!
Sadly...Some diseases now have the capability to also rob us of that, which is what we cherish the most !!!
 
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Nice moose memories Joe! So did ya call that big boy in or did ya have to track him down?
 

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Discussion Starter · #4 ·
Nice moose memories Joe! So did ya call that big boy in or did ya have to track him down?
The boys I was with hunted moose every year in Ontario ( they would come here for deer with me and I would go there for moose it was a good deal until the deer died off here :( ) and one guy Claude from Quebec had one of those old birch bark calls and he called him in
Wasn't much of a story. Left camp maybe 30 minutes he made a few calls and this dude walked out and the old 280 dropped him where he stood
I would say a 1 hour hunt max and a full day getting him out :(
No atv's in those days for this group
Cheers
 

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Ah the good ole birch bark horn. That’s the magic of calling….ya just don’t no when or where…. the anticipation is way up there!
Our group only used an ATV to haul the moose quarters out of the bush. We always walked to our calling spots and as the season progressed used snowshoes to track the moose. On a few occasions we used an Elan to haul out quarters on a sled. If the snow was deep it was a lot of work cutting a track to the animal with the little snow machine.
 

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Discussion Starter · #6 ·
This was in the french river area of northern Ontario and I don't think a billy goat would get through the woods. Man it was thick. They had a had to be early 70's argo but that would only get in so far and scary the shape it was in :)
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Good thread Joe - for me “Moose Memories” = my father and a Savage Model 99 .308 (yes those dreaded lever actions 🫣).

Other than hunting and fishing my father and I didn’t have a lot in common as he was too busy making a living raising a family. But his influence (hunting / fishing) has shaped me into the person I am now and the enjoyment and passion I have for the outdoors.

My first moose memory takes me back to when I was 16 and my brother and I took a week off school to go on a moose hunt with my father to the Lesser Slave Lake area of Alberta. Off we went in his 1964 Pontiac Laurentian packed with a tent, coleman stove, lantern, etc. etc. and of course some food. On the second day as we were driving a dirt road we spotted a large bull about 200 yards away on a knoll. My father stopped the car and without turning it off, opened his door and rolled (yes rolled) downed the window. Within seconds he had the ole lever action poled out the window and squeezed off a bullet. The bull stumbled then moved into the woods.

After finding some blood it wasn’t long before we found the moose only 10 yards or so in the tree line expired. So why is this my “favourite” moose memory? First it was the largest animal kill I had been involved with - sure we were in the hunting paradise (northern Alberta in the early ‘70’s) and had harvested white tails, mule deer, etc. but this animal was huge. More importantly I seen a side of my father which surprised me. My father had never shown any (or at the very least) very little emotion. But he let out a whoop for joy and sang “a hunting we will go” as he made his way for the items needed to gut and get the moose out.
“That Moment” has been my favourite moose memory after all these years even though I’ve been fortunate enough to have shot 10 or so moose myself since then.

Interestingly, that Savage Model 99 .308 (beauty rifle, Monty Carlo stock) followed me back from Edmonton a week ago. I was heading out to see my daughter for two weeks but prior to leaving got a text from my brother in Edmonton (keeper of the rifle) to bring my PAL as he wanted to give me the rifle. Said, “take it to NL and harvest a moose with it - the rifle is yours”. So I made sure I brought any documentation required, bought an approved hard case out there, locks, etc. etc. as I didn’t want Pee Wee Herman’s (aka Tiny Dancer) band of minions screwing up the rifle transfer.

Will decide on a new scope his month - proper scope for this rifle, brand, magnification (fixed/variable ? ) etc. and hope to make this circle of memories complete this fall.
 

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I never got to harvest a moose with my father but i have moose memories of him and i walking woods roads, calling every so often and continuing on. My favorite memories are him setting moose "traps" , half a cabbage on a stump with pepper sprinkled around. The moose would, in theory, want the cabbage and then ho for it only to sneeze, breaking its neck.
Or the old banana trap..
Set the peel on the ground by the back of the truck with the tailgate down. Yup you guessed, moose steps on banana peel slips, breaks its neck on the tailgate. He set the peel trap one day as we were going to watch a bog and make a few calls, saw nothing but when we got back a moose had stepped on the peel and rubbed the truck, left hair and tracks in mud
Both still make me smile when i remember, dad was at times a prankster, and he loved the woods.
Thanks for the memories
 

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Discussion Starter · #9 ·
Good thread Joe - for me “Moose Memories” = my father and a Savage Model 99 .308 (yes those dreaded lever actions 🫣).

Other than hunting and fishing my father and I didn’t have a lot in common as he was too busy making a living raising a family. But his influence (hunting / fishing) has shaped me into the person I am now and the enjoyment and passion I have for the outdoors.

My first moose memory takes me back to when I was 16 and my brother and I took a week off school to go on a moose hunt with my father to the Lesser Slave Lake area of Alberta. Off we went in his 1964 Pontiac Laurentian packed with a tent, coleman stove, lantern, etc. etc. and of course some food. On the second day as we were driving a dirt road we spotted a large bull about 200 yards away on a knoll. My father stopped the car and without turning it off, opened his door and rolled (yes rolled) downed the window. Within seconds he had the ole lever action poled out the window and squeezed off a bullet. The bull stumbled then moved into the woods.

After finding some blood it wasn’t long before we found the moose only 10 yards or so in the tree line expired. So why is this my “favourite” moose memory? First it was the largest animal kill I had been involved with - sure we were in the hunting paradise (northern Alberta in the early ‘70’s) and had harvested white tails, mule deer, etc. but this animal was huge. More importantly I seen a side of my father which surprised me. My father had never shown any (or at the very least) very little emotion. But he let out a whoop for joy and sang “a hunting we will go” as he made his way for the items needed to gut and get the moose out.
“That Moment” has been my favourite moose memory after all these years even though I’ve been fortunate enough to have shot 10 or so moose myself since then.

Interestingly, that Savage Model 99 .308 (beauty rifle, Monty Carlo stock) followed me back from Edmonton a week ago. I was heading out to see my daughter for two weeks but prior to leaving got a text from my brother in Edmonton (keeper of the rifle) to bring my PAL as he wanted to give me the rifle. Said, “take it to NL and harvest a moose with it - the rifle is yours”. So I made sure I brought any documentation required, bought an approved hard case out there, locks, etc. etc. as I didn’t want Pee Wee Herman’s (aka Tiny Dancer) band of minions screwing up the rifle transfer.

Will decide on a new scope his month - proper scope for this rifle, brand, magnification (fixed/variable ? ) etc. and hope to make this circle of memories complete this fall.
You could write a nice book with your moose stories WOW 10 that is incredible:)
That old savage is a classic now and highly sought after
Your connection to it makes it priceless and a keeper for life and I cannot wait to hear this years story about the moose it took AGAIN after all theses years
Take care
 

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my 1st moose hunt was a fly in trip, in the northern penninsula, NFLD. Me and my oldest son ventured into that beautiful, rugged country for several days. We hunted a series of lakes - by boat and by foot.

Our guide, Jason, had a unique way of getting each quarter off, boneless and in one piece. Man those packs were heavy heading back to the nearest lake.

Cloud Water Sky Natural landscape Highland




Cloud Sky Water Plant Highland




Plant Smile Hunting Military camouflage Tree
 

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Good thread. I have been very lucky with moose. I have taken 9 moose between NL, NB and CB. All fantastic memories ! However, my number one moose memory goes back to 1968 !! I was 12 years old and my Dad drew a “mainland moose license”. The season was a week long, but my Dad could only take a couple of days off work. My Dad and his best hunting buddy (Charlie) camped on Folly mountain on Saturday/Sunday before opening day (Monday) to scout out areas to hunt. I was so disappointed that my Mom wouldn’t let me take the days off school. My Dad was not an experienced moose hunter, but Charlie had hunted moose in Shelburne Co where he had grown up. They hunted Monday and Tues without any luck. They found some good sign but didn’t see any moose or have any replies to their calling. During their hunt on Tuesday they were checked by Lands & Forrest . In fact , a tv crew was with them from the tv show Land & Sea. Charlie asked one of the wardens if they knew any better areas to hunt moose. They got out a map and showed them a better place on the topo map that might have some moose. This was captured by the tv crew. Later that fall, we all watched that show on tv and saw my Dad and Charlie on tv. Dad and Charlie had to return to work but hoped to return to hunt Friday if they could get the day off and the last day, Saturday . Both Dad and Charlie were able to get Friday off work, and I was allowed to take Friday off school ! On Friday morning we left Dartmouth at about 2 am. I was so excited ! I recall sitting in the front seat between my two hunting mentors and thinking.....I’m going moose hunting. We arrived at the area/road we were going to hunt just before daylight. I remember standing in front of the truck on the woods road while Charlie made a few calls. There was a year old chopping on the left side of the road and a small lake down over a hill on the right side of the road. As daylight appeared it was clear there were a number of fresh tracks all over the road. It was cloudy and threatening rain. After about 20 minutes Charlie made another call. All of a sudden some big heavy cracks and a grunt. It was clear the moose was moving toward us from the chopping. I remember my legs felt weak with excitement......lol. Suddenly two moose were partially visible on the side of the road about 80 yds away. A cow and a bull. Then a calf appeared right on the road. I thought my Dad was going to shoot it as he had been saying a big calf would be the best eating. You have to remember, this is 1968 and Dad and Charlie were meat hunters. The bull moved onto the road as the calf moved to the side of the road. My Dad shouldered his old Marlin 30-30 and bang. The bull actually went down, but then scrambled off the road. What happened next scared the shit out of all of us. The cow and calf were startled and started running down the road right towards us. Honestly all you could see was those big hooves coming right at us. We hit the ditch and those moose ran right down the road past the truck. It was both scary and hilarious at the same time. I still laugh about it when I think of it. Me , Dad and Charlie all piled up in the ditch. After the shock and laughter, we went to check on the bull. He made it about 60 yards down a slight hill towards the lake before he collapsed. Needless to say we were pretty excited. A beautiful 40-50 inch bull. It started to pour rain, but that didn’t matter. I remember we had trouble turning that bull over to gut it. It took a few hours but we cut it into several pieces (hide left on) and got it to the road and into the truck. The day eventually brightened up and we made our way home arriving late in the afternoon. Dad and Charlie knew the meat manager at the old Westphal Sobeys and we were able to use their cooler to hang it and he eventually cut it up. Regrettably, there were only a few pictures taken of that moose and I can’t find any. The one picture I remember was a picture taken at the Sobeys where all the pieces were put together to show the entire moose. My Dad carried that picture in his wallet for years and I don’t know what happened to it. Charlie had the antlers on his garage for a number of years. Unfortunately I don’t know what became of them. But, this moose memory is still vivid in my mind like it was yesterday. >Pete
 

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Awesome stories guys !! Thanks for sharing them with us!!
 

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Reading all these moose hunting stories makes me wanna stitch up a few birchbark moose calls! Thanks for the great stories.
 

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I've never even bothered to apply for a moose license even in New Brunswick years ago. Just didn't need that much meat. Though I guess I wouldn't have had any trouble getting rid of lots of meat if I had been successful. :)
I grew up hunting in southern New Brunswick. My parents had a camp on the Pollett River about 10 km from Fundy Park and the area had a lot of moose back then. We used to see them and lots of sign all the time in the area close to our camp.
I could have easily shot several moose (illegally of course) while deer hunting over the years. Especially once the trees were bare of leaves they really stand out when in older growth hardwoods! At the same time, throw a couple spruce trees in there and I'd swear they could hid behind a sapling! I recall once while deer hunting we were walking back toward camp on the road. I handed my rifle to my buddy and turned my back on him to take a leak. All of a sudden all hell broke loose about 40 feet into the timber and up the hill goes a big cow moose. She went about 20 meters or so and stopped broadside to us on a little ridge! I took my rifle back from my friend, sighted on her chest and said bang. At that she moved off a bit up the hill and we followed only to find she had a good sized calf with her.

Another time, first day of deer season at daybreak I walked in a set of railroad tracked to a swamp/pond where a friend that did track maintenance had seen deer several times before the season. Get to the pond and there, no more than 20 metres away, are a cow and mid sized bull moose chowing down. I can still clearly see that bull bringing his head up from under the water and the water running off him and out of his mouth. Again I sighted on him, said bang to myself and then stood there and watched as the two of them came up out of the pond, crossed the tracks about 25 metres from me and lumbered off into the woods on the other side of the tracks.

Not moose hunting but stories about moose I thought some on here would enjoy.
 

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Give A Grunt
It snowed the night before so any tracks would be fresh. The three of us decided to get up early and try our luck at finding a calf moose. The season was coming to a close in two weeks so we only had two weekends to fill our calf tags.
We left the house around six a.m. with mugs full of coffee and drove south to an area we hunted earlier in the season. The main haul road was good going as it was plowed for the logging trucks. Once we travelled through the timber harvest zone and back out into the hunting zone, the road conditions started to deteriorate. It was time to stop and shift into four wheel drive.
We turned off the main road and on to a non-maintained, use at your own risk type of road. It was getting light and all eyes were searching for moose. It wasn’t long before we came upon a set of big moose tracks in the fresh snow and I slowed down. As we drove along, we discovered sections of the road that were crisscrossed with what looked like several sets of moose tracks. I slowed almost to a crawl and opened my door to take a closer look. They were all very large tracks and I exclaimed, “ Chit, these tracks are really fresh!” I was still looking at the ground with one eye and driving with the other as we crested a small hill. “Stop!, both of my buddies said at the same time. There, in the middle of the road, not twenty-five yards away, stood three very large bull moose. I hit the brakes and threw the truck into park. Now, the bulls were on the trot and I jumped out and gave a loud grunt. The biggest one stepped off the road and out of sight so I gave another grunt. The other two bulls came to a halt about seventy yards away and turned to face us. I raised my arms as if I had a rifle in my hands and took my time. “Boom……..boom,” I said. At the sound of my loud voice, they made for the heavy bush.
I figured a fellow needed to take advantage of every opportunity to practice his moose calling, especially when the real thing was right in front of you.
It seemed like these three bull moose were starting to yard up and heading to their wintering ground where they would spend the winter months with other bulls.
 
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