It was during that day that Sheldon and I got to know each other quite well. He was a relaxed person to hunt with and had a great sense of humour. He was a diabetic with little sight in one eye and trouble with the other. Drops had to be put into his eyes, twice a day and he was taking insulin shots. After dark, he had problems seeing anything outside. We split blocks of wood and laid them on the ground, split side up. He could follow them, using his flashlight, to the cook shack or to the outside john. He told me it would probably be his last hunt, so I decided to guide him myself. I am sure we would enjoy each other's company and I was happy to administer the eye drops for him.
We left for a spike camp on Cache Creek. When game was spotted, I made a special efford for Sheldon to see the animals. In most cases, I would stand behind him, moving his head with my hands and talking to him on the game as he glassed. We made a good hunting team. Arriving at Cache Camp, we took care of the horses, and after supper, we went to sit on the bank of the creek in hopes some game might happen by.
The day was getting old, the sun having dropped behind the tall spruce trees in the creek bottom. We whispered quietly, while swatting mosquitos and black flies. We were ready to call it quits and stood up to get the stiffness from our legs. I checked the creek bottom on our left before turning. There stood a large bull moose, approximately three hundred yards away. He was not visible from where we sat and might have gone unnoticed. We quickly ducked out of sight and reappeared for a second look. Sheldon couldn't see the bull. I pointed out that it stood between the first and second largest spruce to our left. He could see the trees but not the moose.
Sheldon whispered, "What are the horns like, how big are they?"
I repled that they were as big as the ones on the Bug Lake animal and that seemed to satisfy him.
The light was almost gone on the creek bottom. Sheldon couldn't locate the bull with either the scope on his rifle or his glasses. I decided to take a chance and try calling the moose closer. My voice must have been in tune. Perking up his ears, he looked straight our way. I called again; he came about seventy five yards. My excitement almsot took over. Sheldon said he still couldn't see the moose and I reminded myself not to get overanxious. Grunting again, the moose trotted towards us, advancing another hundred yards or so.
Sheldon whispered that he still couldn't see anything. I felt like someone telling an untruth and was getting more excited. No doubt this was the best moose calling I had ever done. Each grunt brought the big animal closer until it was directly in front of us, not more than two hundred feet away. The bull knew something was there. although unsure, he stood in silence, staring our way.
I couldn't get behind Sheldon to direct his view.
I whispered, "Can you make out the hedge row of small willows right in front of us?"
He nodded.
"Do you see the taller ones about center?"
He nodded again enthusiastically. his rifle barked with fire. The majestic bull went down for keeps.
Sheldon proudly looked over his trophy of the Spatsizi. I was overwhlemed with joy for him and felt a great relief that I managed to get the bull called in close enough for him to see. Had the moose no co-operated, and took off for parts unknown, it would have been the most disapointing for both of us.
I took care of the animal while sheldon held the gasoline lantern we had brought from camp. Once he had found the monarch of the marsh in his scope sight, his anxiety vanished. The trophy had done much to allay his self doubts.
~ The Endless Reach, by Clarence Simmons, 1989, pages 163-165
We left for a spike camp on Cache Creek. When game was spotted, I made a special efford for Sheldon to see the animals. In most cases, I would stand behind him, moving his head with my hands and talking to him on the game as he glassed. We made a good hunting team. Arriving at Cache Camp, we took care of the horses, and after supper, we went to sit on the bank of the creek in hopes some game might happen by.
The day was getting old, the sun having dropped behind the tall spruce trees in the creek bottom. We whispered quietly, while swatting mosquitos and black flies. We were ready to call it quits and stood up to get the stiffness from our legs. I checked the creek bottom on our left before turning. There stood a large bull moose, approximately three hundred yards away. He was not visible from where we sat and might have gone unnoticed. We quickly ducked out of sight and reappeared for a second look. Sheldon couldn't see the bull. I pointed out that it stood between the first and second largest spruce to our left. He could see the trees but not the moose.
Sheldon whispered, "What are the horns like, how big are they?"
I repled that they were as big as the ones on the Bug Lake animal and that seemed to satisfy him.
The light was almost gone on the creek bottom. Sheldon couldn't locate the bull with either the scope on his rifle or his glasses. I decided to take a chance and try calling the moose closer. My voice must have been in tune. Perking up his ears, he looked straight our way. I called again; he came about seventy five yards. My excitement almsot took over. Sheldon said he still couldn't see the moose and I reminded myself not to get overanxious. Grunting again, the moose trotted towards us, advancing another hundred yards or so.
Sheldon whispered that he still couldn't see anything. I felt like someone telling an untruth and was getting more excited. No doubt this was the best moose calling I had ever done. Each grunt brought the big animal closer until it was directly in front of us, not more than two hundred feet away. The bull knew something was there. although unsure, he stood in silence, staring our way.
I couldn't get behind Sheldon to direct his view.
I whispered, "Can you make out the hedge row of small willows right in front of us?"
He nodded.
"Do you see the taller ones about center?"
He nodded again enthusiastically. his rifle barked with fire. The majestic bull went down for keeps.
Sheldon proudly looked over his trophy of the Spatsizi. I was overwhlemed with joy for him and felt a great relief that I managed to get the bull called in close enough for him to see. Had the moose no co-operated, and took off for parts unknown, it would have been the most disapointing for both of us.
I took care of the animal while sheldon held the gasoline lantern we had brought from camp. Once he had found the monarch of the marsh in his scope sight, his anxiety vanished. The trophy had done much to allay his self doubts.
~ The Endless Reach, by Clarence Simmons, 1989, pages 163-165
