Contributed By Kiniksu Kid
5-21-09
Moose the Cowboy Way
In
Idaho, moose hunting is by special permit issued to winners of a
drawing, with the season lasting two weeks. The drawing is a
once-in-a-lifetime situation and, after 34 years of trying, I finally
drew a permit for the 2008 season. While I was essentially hunting in
my "backyard," the Panhandle National Forest, my hunt was unique. As an
avid cowboy action shooter, I am enthusiastic about black powder
cartridges, so for my hunt I used my long-range cowboy rifle, a Model
1873 Springfield Trapdoor .45-70 manufactured in 1882 with standard
iron sights.
My hunt was the first two weeks of November 2008, and considering that I had waited more than three decades to land this coveted tag, I was really worried about having only a two week window to land my bull.
I hunted the first Saturday and Sunday without seeing a thing. On Monday I came across a smaller bull and missed, leading to a lot of ribbing from my brothers, both of whom had taken moose previously.
Tuesday morning-election day-I came up over a hill and spotted a bull standing on a ridge with a cow nearby. I asked myself if he would let me get closer. He must have been more interested in the cow because he ignored me. I got to about 75 yards and decided not to push my luck any further and shot from there. The cartridge was a 535 grain lead cast bullet loaded with 60 grains of 2F black powder. It was a one shot kill and the bullet still weighed 428 grains even after it severed a rib bone. The bull went down and started sliding down off the ridge into a creek bed, which made things that much more difficult. But after packing for my brothers, it was their turn to help out.
As my brothers and I began dressing out the animal, it started snowing rather steadily. In our speed to beat the weather things became somewhat hectic. Once it was dressed out, I had to get the meat to the processing plant which is owned by one of my former students and wrestlers. (I taught government and economics at Sandpoint High School in Sandpoint, Idaho, for 30 years and was the school's head wrestling coach for 17 years.) Then I had to deliver the cape I had promised to the taxidermist, who is also a former student and wrestler. In all the activity, I hadn't noticed that I left my rifle lying on the hillside, and it became covered with snow. It wasn't until I unloaded the rig that evening that I realized the rifle was missing.
The next morning I went back up the mountain to the area of the kill. With the help of a pole magnet and a little reconnoitering, I found the rifle under several inches of snow not too much worse for the wear. A thorough strip down and cleaning and it was as good as any 127 year old rifle. With all my modern rifles and scopes, I'm still amazed that I entrusted a once-in-a-lifetime, two-week opportunity to 19th century technology.
My hunt was the first two weeks of November 2008, and considering that I had waited more than three decades to land this coveted tag, I was really worried about having only a two week window to land my bull.
I hunted the first Saturday and Sunday without seeing a thing. On Monday I came across a smaller bull and missed, leading to a lot of ribbing from my brothers, both of whom had taken moose previously.
Tuesday morning-election day-I came up over a hill and spotted a bull standing on a ridge with a cow nearby. I asked myself if he would let me get closer. He must have been more interested in the cow because he ignored me. I got to about 75 yards and decided not to push my luck any further and shot from there. The cartridge was a 535 grain lead cast bullet loaded with 60 grains of 2F black powder. It was a one shot kill and the bullet still weighed 428 grains even after it severed a rib bone. The bull went down and started sliding down off the ridge into a creek bed, which made things that much more difficult. But after packing for my brothers, it was their turn to help out.
As my brothers and I began dressing out the animal, it started snowing rather steadily. In our speed to beat the weather things became somewhat hectic. Once it was dressed out, I had to get the meat to the processing plant which is owned by one of my former students and wrestlers. (I taught government and economics at Sandpoint High School in Sandpoint, Idaho, for 30 years and was the school's head wrestling coach for 17 years.) Then I had to deliver the cape I had promised to the taxidermist, who is also a former student and wrestler. In all the activity, I hadn't noticed that I left my rifle lying on the hillside, and it became covered with snow. It wasn't until I unloaded the rig that evening that I realized the rifle was missing.
The next morning I went back up the mountain to the area of the kill. With the help of a pole magnet and a little reconnoitering, I found the rifle under several inches of snow not too much worse for the wear. A thorough strip down and cleaning and it was as good as any 127 year old rifle. With all my modern rifles and scopes, I'm still amazed that I entrusted a once-in-a-lifetime, two-week opportunity to 19th century technology.
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Last Modified 5-25-09