Birthdays and moose hunting
My oldest daughter, Megan was born at the beginning of moose hunting season in 1984. My youngest daughter Allison came to this world in prime salmon fishing time, 1989. This was not great planning on my part, moose hunting and salmon fishing being passions that shape my existence and draw substantially on my precious allotment of time on planet Earth. So there has been stress around children’s birthdays, and I have resorted to significant payoffs.
For many years I left for my two weeks of salmon fishing on July 5, a day after Allison’s birthday. That worked just dandy, I’d get in some June fishing around home and then head to the Northern Peninsula for the July run of grilse. Nowadays I like to depart late June for Labrador and I’ve occasionally been absent on Allison’s birthday. I can only get away with this by either taking her out to a really nice restaurant or buying her a more expensive than typical gift. I have paid for fishing on birthdays. Thank heavens that Goldie’s birthday in in January.
I remember a particular birthday when Megan was a young teenager. She wanted a dance party at the community centre, and guess what? Oct. 8, her big day, fell on a Saturday, and it was the opening day of moose season. I was in a pickle. What to do? I had these massive speakers and powerful Yamaha amplifier from my MUN high fidelity vinyl days. Megan had been bugging me to set the system up for her and her friends, but I wasn’t fussy about moving it around. You can guess what happened. Megan got the loud music for her birthday, but the party was Sunday afternoon. And we shot our moose Saturday morning. What a balancing act I walked.
Birthday supper
Megan always makes jokes about moose and her birthday. She says there was always something going on about moose on her birthday. She’s all grown up now and has kids of her own, Rory and Harry, and neither was born in salmon or moose time. That’s good, but we are a close family and birthdays for Megan and Allison are a big deal despite them not being little kids anymore. So last Saturday the full crew was at our house for Megan’s birthday supper, albeit Oct 7. I have mellowed a bit, and stayed home on moose season Day 1 to have a birthday supper and work on
my garage. There is a bit more to it than that, but I’ll explain another time. All went well, and I got a main beam in place, to support the upper floor.
I said mellowed a bit, but not a whole lot. After the crew had cleared, around 8:30, I jumped on the quad and headed to our cabin in the backwoods. When I arrived Robert was already there and only had candles burning.
Someone had been at our cabin and left the light on, running down the power in our solar system. Thanks a lot guys, not cool. Drop in but leave the place as you found it. Anyway, I poured a drink of rum and lit my pipe. I was thinking about the day Megan was born, and I gave her a call. No answer, so I figured she was asleep, a long day chasing Harry and Rory around. I went back to my thinking. Robert was tired and only half awake.
In 1984 I had a licence for Salmonier area. If I remember correctly the season wasn’t open the day Megan was born.
I left Spaniard’s Bay early in the morning and headed for St. John’s. Goldie was in the hospital and the plan was for Megan to arrive that day. I left before daylight. I wouldn’t get in the hospital that early but I wanted to check out a hunting spot that I had in mind for opening day. I still got to the hospital brave and early. I’m not sure if Goldie knew I was scouting around the woods, but anyway, she knows now. It’s way to late for her to get angry with me. So long story short, I think I ended up missing opening day, and a few weeks after. And I didn’t get an early moose. It happens I suppose, with children being born and the like.
Woods buddy
Megan was well worth missing a few days of hunting for. She turned out to be a fantastic woods buddy. You probable remember me writing about tales of fishing with her. She chased
me around rabbit hunting quite a bit as well. She has the country in her blood. I’m hoping it will pass on to Rory and Harry. I’m pretty sure I see it in Rory already, at just five years old.
Well then, I puffed on my pipe and laughed to myself, the air heavy with candlelight and smoke. The fire burned warm and crackling, a great reminiscing ambiance. I was thinking about how I ended up getting my moose in 1984.
My brother-in-law Rick and I were driving along a woods road when we spotted a moose in a cut-over about a mile from the road. We parked and proceeding in getting ready for the stalk. Two guys we didn’t know stopped and asked if we had seen anything.
“There’s one over there,” I said, pointing at the young bull’s location.
“Very good,” they responded and jumped out of their truck and took off half running down the trail towards the moose. Rick and I were flabbergasted. I never expected that course of action from anyone. I don’t even think they saw the moose, having no binoculars.
Rick and I were a few more minutes getting our gear organized. The two hombres were a tad rotund and despite the head start I was confident
in outflanking them. I wasn’t letting that behaviour pass. When Rick and I caught up, the two lads were bent over gasping for oxygen. We passed by and never said a word. A while later we spotted the moose again, having lost visual in a valley.
The gods were smiling on me that day. I had a clear shooting lane despite a mess of thick woods, and a bonus stump to rest my rifle on. If the moose had been 10 feet either way, the shot would have not happened. There was a droke of thick spruce between the moose and us. He would have heard us bushwhacking through for sure. And the shot was long for iron sights, but I made it. Good thing I took time to catch my breath. I give thanks. Luck was with me.
We never laid eyes on those other two characters again. I’m not sure what the gods thought of what they did. Seeing my luck, I figure the gods disapproved, judging them unethical, maybe even greedy. They may have had a snowy end to their hunting season.
Happy birthday Megan.