In The Land of Wilderness by Alaska Trappers Association

Author:Alaska Trappers Association
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Publication Consultants

The Bonecrusher and ammo.

The hunting and trapping season continued. My beloved, ugly, deformed rifle was across my shoulder on a day I dropped into a small valley from some surrounding hills. The trail followed the willow-fringed watercourse up the drainage. Fresh moose tracks were plain to see among the willows, so I slowed and scanned the area intently. As is often the case, suddenly they were there. They didn’t step into view or slowly materialize from the trees as I putted along. They were just there, in full view, as if by magic. There were two big bulls in that long-legged, bouncy, ground eating trot a moose uses when it’s time to clear out. They looked huge and black in the white snow. It was just a glimpse as they blasted through the spruce. They ran side by side, those great heads tipped back, the wide antlers clipping the snow-mantled spruce, sending shreds of branches flying into the air in a cloud of swirling snow like two small tornadoes. Then they were gone, swallowed by the snow-cloaked spruce and willows.

At the same time, I was leaping from the machine. I shrugged my shoulder and twisted, sending Bonecrusher from my shoulder into my hands. For just a second, I hesitated and studied the rifle. The gapping, glue oozing jagged crack threw doubt over me but then I was on the trail and lost in the stalk. The track was easy to follow, the dark green spruce, stripped of their coat of snow and frost, stood out in striking contrast to the snow mantled surroundings. The huge, wide spaced tracks in the knee-deep snow were plain to see. Tips of spruce were sprinkled throughout the trail. After a few dozen yards of slow stalking and scanning, I got a glimpse of the rich dark hide of a moose. As quick as it appeared, it was gone. I eased along and again it was there and gone. This cat and mouse game continued for perhaps a quarter of a mile. As the trail entered a thinner patch in the thick stunted spruce I spied an antler. He was moving slowly, quartering away and steadily checking the back trail; he knew the game was on. It was just a patch of moose now and then as he moved along. I could see an opening in the trees in the bull’s path and trained the crosshairs on the spot. At roughly 100 yards, the big angular head appeared and then the tined crown of antlers. When the deep black chest filled the opening, Bonecrusher was filling the valley with a throaty roar. Naturally, I was unsure of the shot as the thought of the rifle coming apart in my hands made a sure steady aim difficult. The glue and wire held however and I quickly chambered another round. At the shot, the bull vanished. Again, I was easing down the track and came to the point where the bull had been when I fired. He had lunged forward into a trot but as I started on the track I could find no blood.

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