HOM: Moose III

We found a nice little bull moose by Scott Lake, and sat and watched him for a while. I could have filled my tag but I wanted a big bull or no bull, and that's no bull. Well, I am pretty confident I could have anyway. It would have been a standing broadside shot at a little over a hundred yards from a dead rest with a .338 magnum loaded with Nosler bullets. Nope, I don't regret not pulling the trigger. The several minutes I spent watching him were fun. I got one good laugh up at the lake a few evenings later. I'd left camp alone and hiked up to the lake, then found a comfy place to sit that was kind of out of sight from the far shore. I hadn't been there long when I heard someone whistling, and looked up to see someone trucking toward me on the trail. It was a hunter from the other camp and he was carrying a fishing pole, I guess to try for a trout for supper. He was watching his feet and never saw me, though he walked up within a few feet of me before I said "Hello." Loudly. He screamed and did a roadrunner imitation for a second, feet spinning in the air for a takeoff. We visited a little after he calmed down and I learned that he was a lawyer from San Francisco, and it was obvious I thought the meeting was funnier than he did. He got the last laugh, though. He proceed to walk up and down the bank and start casting right in front of my spot, which made waiting for a moose there a waste of time. I went back to camp. TBC (Me) (Blacktail Books)