OK, now I am not as writing inclined as my brother Alaskan, but I am going to give this a try. Sorry, no multiple chapters.

As many of you have seen on here in the past, I have a son that has been out trapping with me on and off over the years, and he is holding a lynx here in my avatar. As the first born kid, he was the cramp in my style, so to speak. From being able to go out camping, dinner, movies, or just going hunting or fishing for the afternoon, he was a pain in my butt, and left me wondering what the heck I had done this for. Diaper bags, extra clothes, formula, teething toys, you name it, it had to come with him and us when we went anywhere. Not really what a guy needs when he is living in SE Alaska with the great outdoors truly just out your door.

But as he got older, things changed. At 2, I was dragging him, and all his crap, with me to check crab or shrimp pots in the boat, or out to do a bit of subsistence gill netting. Not exactly what a dad wants to do, but if a guy wanted to get out while the wife unit was working (got to love the working part….. ) the little one and his extra baggage had to come with me. Potty trained, was even better as the extra crap got less, and I was starting to see the upside of my new son. Now he could go deer hunting with me, riding up front on the four wheeler and having me hit every pothole full of water I could find. Even then he was good at spotting deer, too. Later when we moved to the interior, I was dragging him all over the place hunting and fishing; from all over a mountain hunting ptarmigan in the middle of winter, to fishing in an open skiff in the pouring rain for silvers Valdez, to sitting in a cold duck blind waiting for first light. Later, I was bringing him trapping. I was starting to enjoy this , but I had created a monster of sorts also.

This boy was hooked like a junkie on meth, and was always on his old man for another hit, ALL the time. If he wasn’t watching hunting shows, he was stealing my outdoor life, DU magazine, Cabela’s catalog, or the Fur Fish and Game. Christmas lists were Cabela’s catalogs with a bunch of stuff cut out and pasted to paper, and the boy was probably sleeping with a year’s worth of hunting mags and catalogs in his bed. To heck with stuff toys.

Now this growing up wasn’t without its pains, for both him and me. As he got older, he got a BB gun, courtesy of his uncle Alaskan. At first, this was great as I got to teach him some gun safety, and in my presence he got to practice his target shooting. Needless to say, a year later this was taken away from him for taking it out on his own without his Dad there. And not once, when his mother caught him running back into the house with it when he thought she had left for work (got to love that work theme again… ), but a second time when his father came home early. And last year, the wife again came home when my son thought she had left for work, to find one of my rifles out. (As a banker, I sure love this second income thing to help keep me in the lifestyle I have become accustomed too…. )

So, since he was about eight, he was on me about when he was going to get to go moose hunting. CONSTANTLY, he was on me about this. To the point I almost snuffed his little life over it. Again, the junkie needing his bigger and bigger hit. Ducks and trapping weren’t doing it any more, he needed bigger game. So, we were going to start him off with a SE Black bear hunt last spring to see how he would do, but he failed to get his hunters education class done, so he couldn’t go. But then it was proof he wasn’t ready. This last year, he finally saw the light and knuckled down to get it done, and with his new card in his hot little hand he put the screws to me to when he could go. So finally dad relents, gets him the gear he will need (also a good time to upgrade Dad’s hunting gear and pass a few things down to the kid to use. A very good screen to the wife unit on spending when she wants her first little one, that she labored over for 22 hours, to have the right Gear.)

Now this isn’t any ordinary hunt where a kid can ride in a boat or a four wheeler and go get his moose. We fly in to camp, and then hike all over the mountains and ridges to go find and shoot moose, and then we have to pack it back out on our backs. If he is going to go, he is going to have to be able to keep up with us, and pack out his share of meat on each trip. A bit of a tall order for a 11 year old kid getting ready to turn 12 here. But, after two weeks of hockey camp in Canada, he said he was ready.

So, we head out the road to meet our pilot and get out to moose camp. Now it is a Wednesday (Dad is already messing with the kid as it is usually a 2 week hunt and he changed the plans to go out a bit later so he could do some fishing at the Kulik. Already the junky is frothing at the mouth and upset he couldn’t go it with his grandfather and Uncle Mike on the initial insertion date, but Dad needs a picture for the insurance folks that he really did get on that plane so I can collect quick.) We drive down the road and meet up with our pilot, but he is looking grim. High winds and something about a hot range are complicating our effort to get in. He takes off to go get another hunter from another camp (for some reason a death in the family is priority for the other hunter to get out before our junky can get his ride into camp) and we will go out in an hour or so if things cooperate. So we go grab something to eat, and on our return we are greeted by a tied down plane and no pilot. A quick call to the pilots cell phone confirms he can’t get us in and we have to be back first thing tomorrow morning for a first light flight. I have never seen so much foam on the kids mount since he had some Gerber rice cereal all over his face. Not a happy camper, and to top it off he can’t go to sleep and he is determined his father shouldn’t get any either.

Finally, the next morning, we get there at first light and the kid is strapped into the plane. The smile couldn’t be bigger. The night before we got a call from grandpa at camp that they already have a moose down and in camp, so he will be waiting for us when we get in. We also have an unwanted visitor. Seems for the first time in 18 years, we have someone else who has decided to join us. As I was to find out later he knows one of us and we think, based on who his pilot is, that he figured out where we at and asked to be put there. Needless to say, we are not very happy campers about this, but after 12 days, he leaves empty handed. Tough to hunt this place by yourself when you don’t know the area and really need a team to pack moose any distance in any short period of time.

So, we get to camp, get everything put away, and I take Jimmy up to see some of the closer sights he has only seen in pictures. We head up to see where Grandpa got his moose and check out a few other places, just so he can get a feel for the area and I get to point out some other places we will probably hike to hunt. Plus, I want to see if he can handle the hikes up and down some of the places we go. So far so good for the kid and coving some ground. Not a peep of complaint, and to top it off he has nicknamed the old man “huff and puff”. Little POS… ! Also, for the first time, we bump into our unwanted visitor while out, who happens to be hunting about 200 yards from the other person in our group. Not a good sign…

First morning up and the plan is for the remaining moose hunters to go and hunt a place we call The Lakes, while Grandpa hunts over his gut pile (seems we had a bad berry year this year and the growlers are both aggressive and hitting the gut piles, so he will try and get one). We are going to put the kid to the test on this one. Now this is a place that via GPS is 1.7 miles away and about 900ft up in elevation. In truth, it is more like 2.5 miles away and 1,200 feet when you add in the true hiking trail taken and the ups and downs over some of the ridges. We strike up over the first ridge, then up to the top of the second ridge, and so far the boy is taking everything in stride. We point out where moose have been shot in past years and we see our first moose, only 15 miles away in the far valley… . The kid is pumped up. We finally make it to The Lakes where we split off from Uncle Mike, get ourselves set overlooking an area of a couple of lakes where many a moose has died over the years, and start calling.

Now those of you from last year heard about Alaskan aka “Amy Sue”. Amy Sue came to us from the armature section of Larry Flints finest publication. A true winner for calling in a horny bull moose if there ever was one. Well, we don’t have Amy Sue out with us this year, so we have to go back to the Larry Flint well once again for our inspiration and we came up with “Olga,” a 57 year old grandmother who’s most recent exploit was an adult encounter in a truck stop bathroom. Olga will fit right in with our local moose population. So Dad, aka Olga, starts up with the lusty calling of the bulls. The kid is not impressed with his old man making these strange sounds and starts to wonder what this is all about and if the old man isn’t going mad. 45 minutes later we get our answer as the old man hears a bull raking his antlers.

At first the kid is skeptical. He didn’t hear anything. He can’t see anything. And truly, the old man sounds like something dying when he calls. But Olga lustily calls to the bull in the woods and is rewarded with a nice looking bull coming down the bank of one of the lakes and headed in our general direction. First morning out and already we got a looker headed our way. Jimmy grabs his rifle and gets ready. The bull circles the edge of the lake, comes up the other side, and then drops into a small ravine where he begins to thrash bush’s in an attempt to show Olga HE is the one for her. Patiently we wait for the bull to make his way up the other side of the ravine and to us. But he is playing hide and seek with Olga. Showing up here, then disappearing there, before another impressive bush butt kicking. Through all of this, we can’t tell if it is legal or not, but on he comes, closer and closer. 100 yards and counting down and still can’t tell if it is legal. 75, 60, 54, 42, and 38 yards the range finder keeps reading, but still no good look at the antlers other than it isn’t going to be 50 inch’s, but it is still a nice bull. Finally, at 24 yards it steps out broadside and looks right at us. CRAP! It is a 2x2 clear as day. Jimmy is shaking asking if he can shoot it, but we have to let it go, and after a quick snort at not finding Olga to his liking, he is off back the way he had come. Jimmy is both elated at getting to see such a great moose up close, and disappointed that he might not see one again. And to top it off, two hours later we hear shots from Uncle Mike. 2nd moose of the trip is down.

Now, to top this off, on the way to meet up with Uncle Mike, we see another moose coming up the river bed down below us from the ridge we are on, and it is headed up stream at a good clip. From what I can tell it looks like it might be a spike fork, but I am not sure, so I drop Jimmy and my pack with Uncle Mike, take my rifle, a couple shells, and my GPS and head off along the ridge to see if I can head it off, as I have a good idea where it might be going. Jimmy isn’t happy about this, but there is moose to cut (come on the kid needs to learn sometime), and I don’t think he can keep up. After a mile hike/jog and dropping down the ridge, I get up on a knoll to see the bull down below me about a ¼ mile away, but headed in my direction. Seems he found something to slow him down a but. First look, and it is a stupid paddle bull. Crap, a wasted trip down and a long hot trip back up to help skin and cut. Olga gives out a quick call to the lonely bull and he perks up and heads my way quicker, so I sit to catch my breath (yeah, yeah, huff and puff), and wait to see how close I can get him. He gets to 188 on the range finder and I go and check him out with the rifle scope and find out he is cursed. Mother nature has not done him right as this little paddle bull has a palmed brow tine and three points. A quick call from Olga to get him in a bit closer and through some black spruce and #3 is down. Olga finally comes through, but we have a long night a head of us and I have a hugely disappointed kid on my hands. After getting back and helping to finish up on Uncle Mikes moose, we head back down to mine and get it opened up in the dark. Not only hasn’t Jimmy gotten his moose, it is now about 11pm and we have drug him all over the place. He is whipped. The next two days the four of us are packing moose, and it is a true test for the kid on his first moose hunt as he is now packing meat on his back, and he does great. I couldn’t have been prouder.

After packing meat, it is just Jimmy and I back up the ridge to a place we call The Knoll. Now this place got its name not because it is grassy, but because many a moose has died from here or near here. You can see up and down the ridge, as well as to a lake that has been known to see a moose or two as well. Again, Olga goes to work, suggesting another rendezvous’ in a dirty bathroom some place. On and on she wale’s away her plight for a big stud moose to come service her, and over the ridge they come, two of them as a matter of fact. Probably having heard of Olga’s extensive experience and looking for a threesome I am guessing. But, they get to within 100 yards and neither are legal, and seeing that Olga is not into the threesome thing, they head back the way they came. Again, no shooting and Jimmy is starting to wonder if they grow moose that are legal around here that he might get to see, but tomorrow is another story.

Well, the next day again finds us up at The Knoll, again suggesting some illegal form of relations with the local stud moose population. But the weather is turning crappy and the rain is now turning to spitting snow and we can’t see up the ridge all the way, or down out to the river bank. But, Olga is a working girl and neither wind, rain, snow, or whatever might keep a postman away will keep Olga from turning a trick now and then. And then we hear it, a gluk out of the storm. A call to Olga for something big. At first I think it is coming down hill from us and scan below, but Jimmy, hunting instincts clicking, says it is coming from up hill from us. We stop and listen, and again, the gluk, and then Jimmy sees it step out of the trees above us, 56 yards away. Quickly we scramble and start glassing. Not 50”, so 1, 2 I count on the left side. Crap. But I look to the right side. 1, 2, 3 I count. Whooaaa. 1, 2, 3 I count again. Jimmy scrambles into position with rifle at the ready. I tell him it looks to be legal. I grab my rifle, flip off the scope covers, dial up the scope, and give it another look as it takes a step forward and then looks at us broadside. 1, 2, 3 I count again, and tell Jimmy when he is ready to pull the trigger. BANG. The moose hunch’s and starts forward. BANG, again Jimmy shoots and it gets behind some black spruce where it drops. YEAH, his first ever Moose is down.

Jimmy and his first moose:



Now the sad part, and something that will haunt me forever. Upon getting up to the moose and looking at the rack, it is NOT a 3x2, but is a 2x2. All that counting and checking and the dam thing has a palm tine that comes down right next to the brow tine and I have screwed it all up. No moose, and no moose antlers to put up in his room as we have to turn it into the troopers when we get back. Just pictures and a memory for him, and a court date the end of October for me. However, from looking at the pictures, I am not sure that I can tell he is that disappointed.





As for Jimmy. He did great on this trip, and I couldn't have been prouder of him. He was usually up first and made coffee, and cooked breakfast several times. Helped me with some dinners and even did dishes. He also packed his share of meat off of every kill back to camp, even the one that Mike got far from camp, and was right in there skinning and helping with butchering. We even got him indoctrinated into moose camp…. Truly, he has earned his stripes for a return trip and I couldn’t be prouder.



The final take. Mine is the small one up front on the right as you are looking at it:




-TJ

Raising the boy right I see...great story and pictures. Enjoyed them

Great story TJ. Too bad about that tine. Easy for a a cheechacko to make that mistake. Looks like you probably should plan to take a hooker to camp for him next year.

That photo with hte booze, cigar and magazine kinda reminds me of me when I was 8.

TJ, great writing, I truly enjoyed reading it. Bummer about the court date, Hopefully they are easy on ya, or you will have to send your wife to work even more.

Yup, a great story indeed! He had fun, that's what it's really all about.

TJ:
Outstanding story. I have no doubt you insured this will go on for a another generation.

Awesome! He's bigger than the moose I saw!

Bitter sweet for sure!! I think you should make him take the rap, teach him that the person behind the trigger has the ultimate responsibility, besides, the court always goes easier on the kids!!! LOL
I'm sure it was a GREAT experience.
Chuck

Fantastic story TJ. The overall trip sounds like a good learning experience and a lot of fun. Sounds like Jimmy is Hooked!

+ 1 to all the above! Great stuff!

Good story TJ.He will remember it for ever as all of us do on our first hunt.I like the booze pic. that should make momma proud.

so OLGA is now on a registry and retired eh?? She can't go within 500 ft of schools or calving grounds.........

start him out right though,,, booze, smokin, and shootin illegal animals....everything that a boy needs....

did you take all his M n M's gambling???

congrats , Huff and Puff.
nothing like a day in the woods with friends and family.
thanks for sharing the story

It sounds like he is ready for a trip with Uncle Alaskan and new uncle Hup.......

I haven't even read this yet, but the title "Olga, A boy, and his moose" only leads me to think there is a Threesome in this story....and it can't be a good one.

Now that I've read it:

So...let me get this straight. You, ON YOUR BOY'S FIRST moose hunt, sniped three moose out from underneath him, w/o giving him a chance?!?!?!?! What a good father. I'm sure the "oh, he couldn't keep up." excuse worked on some, but I'm not buying it. Probably pushed him over, and then shot your moose. Typical behavior!

I'm a little dissappointed I didn't make it down for this hunt. Not because I wanted to be there for my Nephew's first hunt, but becauase I haven't read that month's Hustler.

Good trip TJ! Next year I'll make sure our visitor really feels unwanted. Nothing like "wolf patrol"....from his tent.

I can't believe you made him pack out that illegal moose. Probably going to make him pay the fine too....

Good story TJ, glad your teaching your boy the "don't do it this way" in your own way.LOL My first solo hunt at 13 provided me with a cow and calf 30min after seeing the trooper warm up his plane and 10min later he was circleing me. The cow was legal and didn't see the calf and it was "lets go see your dad again".

TJ is arranging a high interest, unsecured loan for Jimmy to pay his fine.

TJ great story a lot of guys wouldn't have owned up to the mistake on the web. I am sure for Jimmy it was a disappointing end to the whole affair but bet he will make sure that mistake never happens again. Glad you had a good time.

Thanks for the kind words there folks. Jimmy has been on to read the story and the comments and was telling his mother about it. (FYI, she wasn't impressed that I posted that picture online, but she did point out that it would make her laywers job that much easier to get custody of the kids, if that should ever become an issue... )

He won't be paying any of the fine. I am the one that actually gets the ticket as he was hunting under my supervision and I directed him to take it. However, he did have to help pack out his share of every moose taken while we were there, including his.

I will, though, be taking him to court as another part of his "learning process" so he can see how this all works out. Another part of this is that we had a long discussion about lying and getting caught about six months ago, and about how being upfront and taking responsibility for his actions was better in the long run. Now he gets to see this in action, up front and personal. Now I just hope the judge goes along with the trooper recommendation and it works out OK.

Alaskan, you are in luck. I think we saved that issue and you can read it next year when you come out for "wolf patrol." Olga is a delight, for sure!

As a side note, I forgot to mention a few points of interest. First, in his shooting. The first shot was right on the money with both lungs hit and not one of the shoulders. Right where we had discussed However, his second shot was not as right on, and in a family tradition that seems to pop up with first moose, he shot it right in the butt. However this did keep it from going further up the ridge to expire. And the second thing was the actually shooting. When we first went to the range, he couldn't hit the cardboard box with his first few shots and later was complaining about the kick and the noise. He was really concerned about if he would be able to hit is moose when the time came. I told him he wouldn't feel or hear the shot when he finally took it. Right after he had taken the moose, he jumped up and was all excited that he didn't feel or hear it, just like I told him. Now he wants a bigger gun...

-TJ