Stag Caribou

The once great caribou herds rebounded for a couple of reasons, the winter time poaching with skidoos, dog teams was stopped by helicopter patrols, heavy fines, gear confiscation, jail time. The value of lynx fur, and the realization that the lynx population was having a devastating effect on the caribou population.

In any case after many years of closure, a caribou draw was put in effect, a business friend approached me, his son and hunting partner was successful on a stag only draw. I knew the area and would I take them in country, I remember the rush of excitement , yes indeed was the answer.

There was maybe some bad news one was a bow hunter, in an area were a tree is hard to find, wide open bog, and miles and miles of  barrens, the herds at the best of time hard to find.

I knew the boys, not yet 20 years old, but hard as nails hockey players and use to the woods, They would have to be this was going to be a rough trip  with extremely tough conditions.

Along weekend would have to do, University schedule had no flexibility, so little time so much country.

We drove about 4 hours to an access point, we would take the three trikes into the main hydro line, then 15-20 miles in country, and do some high hill spotting. This sounds easy but the September rains had turned the bogs into a complete quagmire, hip waders, with good rain gear would be necessary, in the low areas, it would be a constant team effort pulling the machines from the bog.

We had minimal camping gear and food for two nights, we made fairly good time now and then on the rocky hills, getting to third gear, the low bogs a steady grind.

By Saturday afternoon we made a high ridge, I knew this place, the rain persisted, we would have to  camp in the middle of the rocky trail, we spaced the bikes  in a triangle to secure the tent, broke out a tarp for cover to set up, the wind came up, this was going to be a rough night, somewhere along the line I had dipped my bottom in a bog hole, water seeped in my good rain gear that didn't help. By now the wind howled in the over head hydro lines, there were distant flashes of lightning, I cracked a flask and passed it around, not one complaint they were good boys-----We had not seen one caribou.

At dawn I opened the tent flap visibility maybe 100m, nobody moved, we would have to wait it out.    By mid morning all hands were up, stiff and cold, the fog persisted, I boiled water for morning coffee on the one burner coleman, bacon ,eggs,followed with a couple of slices of bread.

By noon i could see the sun about to break through, The 30.06 remington pump and bow was made ready. We walked to the high crest over looking miles of country, binoculars  ready.
I was thunderstruck as I looked in the valley, a herd of caribou about 30 with a big stag with a magnificent white collar was lying down about 300m away, I dropped to the barrens, we needed a plan.
The bowman with full camo gear would stalk upwind, we would watch from the crest, this would take a while, he made the big circle, we settled in, he had an advantage the stag was on the downwind side of the herd. His partner wanted him to try the stalk, next to impossible in open ountry, I didnt say a word, and watched, I had no rifle although I dearly wished I did.

At about 75 m a small doe spooked the herd they were all up and running in an instant, I gave the rifleman the nod, he steadied the rifle on a grassy bank, the first shot really got them moving,, by now well out there and moving at full gallop he fired his fifth and final shot, to my amazement the stag went down. I said with some emotion good shot, better get down there, he left the bullets back at camp. I waved to the bowman, he began walking toward the downed caribou, we picked our way slowly down the rocky hillside.

The bowman got about 10m from the caribou,when he came to his feet and began to trot off, we looked at each other  in disbelief. The bowman raised his bow and released, nothing happened, we watched, then at about 40m out the stag went down for the last time, later I.. would see the arrow track through the heart. The camera came out for pictures, I took hold of the huge rack to adjust for a better picture, it came off in my hand, the 30-06 bullet at over 300m had stuck the antler about two inches from the skull and knocked him down. I still consider that to be the best shot I ever witness

The rack now on a wall, was repaired by the taxidermist with a wooden dowel.