Tag Archive | Newfoundland

Newfoundland Moose Season Has Arrived

With moose season in Newfoundland heating up let’s enjoy a bit of footage from the 2013 season. As you can see, I had about 20 pointed reasons to hunt where I did. For those interested, take a look at a series of articles I produced on my 2013 moose hunt — hopefully you learn from my mistakes!

Part 1 – The Hopeful Moose Hole
Part 2 – Target Acquired
Part 3 – Base Camp Construction
Part 4 – Unsuccessful Conclusion

Stay tuned for my series about my 2014 moose hunt. Here’s to a successful season!

Advertisements

Flashback Friday – Reminiscing about Fly Fishing the Serpentine

2013 Newfoundland Moose Hunt: Base Camp Construction

My third trip to the area came on the long weekend in October while most folks were at home enjoying their turkey dinner. Hard to believe it had been two months since my first site visit. On this trip, I brought along my axe, rope and tarps in order to establish camp for the beginning of the season and, the arrival of my father the following week. Hard to believe that my first Newfoundland Moose hunt was really about to begin!

My strategy was to use my tarps to build a lean-to that could house me for up to a week. After arriving at the site, I selected two, appropriately spaced, strong looking trees for use as the shelter’s vertical supports. I quickly scanned the canopy directly above for potential widow makers, and decided that this was the spot. I moved onto the task of acquiring the main horizontal support beam and three angled supports. The angled supports were for a little extra support – snow was not out of the question.  For the beam I brought down a dead, but strong birch tree with my axe and lashed it tightly with paracord to the vertical supports. I gathered the three angled supports, lashed them to the beam, and secured the tarp – it almost looked habitable. For the floor, I gathered boughs of balsam fir and placed them upside down for maximum support and comfort. Finally, I covered the boughs with a smaller tarp to provide extra insulation and keep me off of the cold October ground.

With the shelter complete, I began collecting wood. The area was full of dead, standing birch trees ideal for firewood. Standing deadwood is always preferred; by standing it remains dry, as opposed to downed logs, which absorb moisture from the forest floor. I was felling and bucking these trees into four-foot sections and stacking them under a second tarp. I planned to cut these pieces in half with a saw at a later date.

After piling a respectable amount of wood, I decided a few more logs would be sufficient. On what was to become my final tree, I made two upward strokes and noticed movement in the tree’s top.  I’d seen enough workplace health and safety videos to know that it only takes a small branch at 30-40ft to do some serious damage. Not wanting to be struck in the head with a widow-maker, I focused on the treetop while performing my first downward stroke.  That momentary lapse in concentration was all it took; my stroke glanced off of the tree almost as suddenly I felt it strike my left leg. I dropped the axe to the ground, pulled up my pant leg and to my horror realized I could see my shinbone and the supporting tendon. If in the best of situations, this was a horrific injury my situation was devastating. I was one kilometer from my truck through thick woods and over rough terrain. Fortunately for me, my fiancée decided to come along for the trip. Unfortunately for her – so she soon found out – she doesn’t deal well with the sight of blood or grotesque injuries.

leg

The moments following the axe injury were – as you can imagine – hectic and rushed. While staring at a gaping hole in my leg, I attempted to recall my first-aid training. I ripped apart a t-shirt I found in my bag and wrapped it around the cut to hold the wound together and apply pressure to slow the bleeding.  Danielle gathered up our supplies and started rushing towards the truck while I started hobbling behind her. Up until this point I had been running on pure adrenaline, but as I stumbled over the rough terrain the pain began to hit. I spent the first 200 meters swinging the axe at anything that looked like it had walking stick potential, ultimately finding a strong length of birch. Over the next 400 meters my adrenaline levels evaporated and my pain receptors sharply reminded me of my stupidity. I had a moment of uncontrollable breathing when I began to wonder if I was going to make it to the road. After a few gulps of water I fought my way up the final hill to the road level.

With the truck in view, Danielle started running despite my attempts to tell her that if she didn’t slow down she was going to hurt herself.  As I crept over the final few yards, I heard a splash and a faint cry. I  looked up the road to see Danielle face down in a puddle trying to pick herself up without me noticing. Under less strenuous conditions I would probably give her an earful for having not listened to my warnings. However, these were tumultuous times. When she pulled the truck up I saw she was covered in mud and so was the inside of my truck! I attempted an “I told you so” but it was disregarded as she reminded me that I was not in a position to be arguing. Apparently there were more pressing matters, like the 1.5 hours drive to the hospital. I had one thing I needed to do first, take a picture of my leg for the blog!

After an uncomfortable drive – for the length of which Danielle drove like a bat out of hell — we made it the hospital. After several heavy gauge stitches and a few x-rays, the doctor informed me I was one lucky man. I had barely caused any damage to anything but the skin and flesh – my beautiful knee.  I got away with a slightly nicked the tendon – the one that supports the foot – and a slight depression in my tibia. However, nothing was damaged to the point that time wouldn’t heal it. Only one thing was certain, I needed to heal fast, moose season opened in a week! Injury or not, I was going hunting!

2013 Newfoundland Moose Hunt: Target Acquired

The long weekend in September I returned to the hunting area to see if the moose trail I found before had fresh tracks on it. I also hoped to find a spot where I could set up for a hunt. I wanted to make my way down to what appeared to be a meadow/scrub area between three large ponds to check for signs. The topography lines on the map indicated this area was somewhat flat compared to the surrounding country; and I hoped it would be holding moose.

I parked the truck on the new extraction road and began the long walk across the new cutover. I used the wood extraction trail to walk in and immediately noticed abundant moose tracks. As the crow flies, the truck was only 500 meters from the back edge of the cut, but I can’t fly like a fucking crow. I was forced to walk 1000 meters up and down hills to get there!

Map for Moose 2

Having made my way to the back of the cut, the boundary line to the park was just beyond the wooded strip. I followed the moose road (too large to be called a trail) well into the park and I realized that I was walking on an old logging road system. The park would have been harvested in the past prior to its induction into the Canadian National park system in 1973. I caught a glimpse of the smallest of the three ponds I was targeting before finding a gentler slope to descend into the valley.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The gentle slope turned into Mount Everest about half way down and – as I was starting to question my decision to ever start hunting in the first place – I experienced my greatest blunder. I must’ve been daydreaming because the next thing I knew, I was sliding down this hill on my ass in the mud! As I scraped myself off, I cursed myself for my clumsiness and the two new holes in my pants. I looked around and realized I had made it to the scrub-like area on the map, but – more importantly – I realized I wasn’t alone.

Through the fir and birch mixed forest, I noticed the outline of the big black fella I was hoping to see. I tentatively lowered my knapsack to the ground and extracted my camera. I stalked between trees to get a better view while doing my best imitation of a small inquisitive bull. After 25 yards of stalking, I found myself in a staring contest with a wide racked moose.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I snapped photos as fast as my camera could take them while I made my way back to my gear. I didn’t want to spook the moose from the area so I was trying to be as quiet as possible. When I arrived back at the trailhead where I left my pack, I noticed that Bullwinkle was not content in letting me leave just yet. I had aroused his suspicion with grunts and now he wanted to let me know I wasn’t welcome in his house!

I scampered up the side of the hill somewhat and nestled myself in behind a blown down tree. I set my camera up for what was promising to be a vivid and close encounter. The 16 point bull-moose was sporting 3 brow tines on one side, 2 on the other and was showing impressive antler growth on his young frame, a true testament to the quality habitat he called home. He slowly approached me, swaying from side to side. He dropped his head in numerous places to show me his impressive antlers. He blew and grunted on a couple occasions and I was starting to get nervous.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

At this point, I realized he was locked onto me and was showing minor signs of aggression. Being alone and with no gun I had to speak up and tell him “That’s enough! Get out of here!” Hearing me speak confused him enough that he became alert to the situation and he began to change his mind about running me over. He postured up, turned away, and slowly trotted back through the scrub and stopped to looking back at me, wondering what I was. I envisioned the shot and marveled at the opportunity I just had. If only it were moose season!

I was convinced; this was the spot to hunt! I made my way back onto crown-land to find a place to set up camp (I wasn’t driving 200+ KMs everyday just to sleep in my bed). With a good location marked out I vowed to return another day to set up Moose Camp!

To be continued…..

Mission Partially Accomplished: Target Acquired
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

2013 Newfoundland Moose Hunt: The Hopeful Moose Hole

When I arrived in Newfoundland last fall I had the unfortunate designation of “Non-Resident”. This meant anything larger than a coyote was off limits to me, as far as hunting goes. I was going to miss those early mornings in the tree-stand with the bow, but I hoped the small game license would maintain my interest — it didn’t help that NB was having one of the best hunting years in recent memory, but I digress. Anyways three months, $140 at the DMV and a trip to the Wildlife Division later, I had my Newfoundland Hunter’s Card.

Newfoundland has a lottery system in place for big game tags. You apply for both Moose and Caribou at the same time indicating in which zone you would accept tags. You also choose which type of tags you prefer — Bull only, either sex etc. There are nine different pools for ranking applicants; the probability of success increasing with decreasing pool number. Pool 1 is reserved for applicants that have applied for several consecutive years without success, those who received a tag in the previous year are entered into pool 9. I was a first time applicant – Pool 8 – looking for the coveted either sex moose tag on a single license.

In typical Matt Chase style, I got my application in on the last day, during the last hour of business. That puts my ticket at the top of the pile right?! I completely forgot about it after that, figuring my chances were very low. Until one night in late June – during Grant’s visit – we were hanging out around my charcoal BBQ having a couple cold ones when my neighbour stopped in for a chat. He offered us some moose sausage for the grill; explaining he got his license again this year. True to form, I had no idea that the results were even out! I thanked him for the sacrifice to the grill gods and hurried inside to log onto the Wildlife NL website. A few clicks and a couple minutes later, I was staring at this:

Moose Confirm

I was ecstatic! I called my dad immediately to tell him to save some vacation for this fall. We were going moose hunting in Gros Morne National Park!

Most Canadians will tell you that, when they think of Newfoundland they think of three things, great accents, codfish, and a huge moose population. And, when they think of Gros Morne National Park they’ll think moose problem. Moose were originally introduced to Newfoundland from New Brunswick stock in 1905 to provide a food source for residents of the island. With the virtual extinction of their only predators, wolves, in the 1920’s moose populations have been rising unchecked.  In places balsam fir and white birch have been so heavily browsed, that the park’s forest structure has been changed. A recent report by Memorial University released information that some bird species which inhabit middle aged stands within the park boundaries are in population decline.  In 2011 – in an attempt to control the population -Parks Canada began awarding moose tags for usage specifically within the boundaries of Gros Morne.

This might lead one to believe that a moose hunt in Gros Morne would be like shooting fish in a barrel. However, just like anything, you need to read the fine print! Within the National Park boundaries you must not: use a motorized vehicle other than a boat/plane or snowmobile in approved areas and when conditions merit safe travel, cut any trees or shooting lanes, set up camp outside of approved spaces, have an open fire or transport your firearm in the view of other public members using the park. All this, and the topography in the park changes faster than a woman’s mood! This makes things a little more interesting eh?

Armed with little knowledge of moose habitat and behavior, I began scouring over maps and satellite photos of the area. I was looking for a place I could access from a crown forest road that would facilitate a short bushwhack into the park — and hopefully good moose habitat. I identified areas with sufficient cover, edge, and bog all in relatively gently sloping terrain. With a couple of places in mind, I began planning an in-field scouting session.

In late August, I traveled the 102km from my house in Corner Brook to the Little Bonne Bay Pond area just south of Gros Morne National Park (GMNP) limits. I traveled in on a road that was in an active logging area, which turned out to be a bust. The slope down into park-land was so steep that it wouldn’t even facilitate safe walking, let alone moose extraction. However, I was able to view the park from a good vantage point — looking down into the river valley where I wanted to hunt.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I went to option two. I drove as close as I could to the park boundary and followed a bear trail (I know because there was fresh shit everywhere) through a 15-year-old balsam fir thicket singing “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley, the last song playing in my truck, in order not to spook a bear. When I finally arrived at the park boundary, I was faced with yet another steep slope – this one more manageable. This knob also provided yet another great view of GMNP limits.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I negotiated down the hill on the boundary while looking for the bogs and ponds that I could see on my maps. On the way down, I found a great moose trail connecting a couple of the water bodies that excited me. As I was wandering around aimlessly doing what I thought was scouting (taking pictures to show my dad and playing with my axe) I happened upon a recent cutover that I hadn’t noticed on my drive in. I was sure this meant a new road and, more importantly, a shorter walk. Turns out Google Maps are not always the greatest source of info! I marked a tree at the base of a hill in the cutover so I could reference my location. If a road was indeed at the top of the hill, I figured I would be able to see the marker. I returned the way I came, whistling the same tune. On my way out, I found the new extraction road, scampered up over the hill and was able to locate my marked tree 600 meters in the distance. I had found a new way in for the next scouting trip!

I hope you’ve enjoyed hearing about my moose hunt thus far! The hunt is ongoing and I plan on producing a series of posts that document the trials and tribulations my first Newfoundland hunt! So follow me while I continue to search for this elusive ungulate — until next time!


The Lazy Man’s Game…Bird

Hunting Ruffed Grouse (Banasa umbellus) is a favorite pastime of many here in Eastern Canada. Many also consider Ruffies to be the finest table fare of the upland game birds and, I would have to agree. This past weekend I struck out in hopes of bagging a side dish for Thanksgiving supper. The day started out like all others, with the blaze of an alarm, followed by a quick smash of the snooze button — after all, it’s just a bird hunt. However, I was up and out of bed before the next alarm because it isn’t just about the bird hunt, it’s about getting out in the bush with your favourite shotgun and taking in the sights and sounds of the country.

After some breakfast and a healthy dose of TSN (My Flyers lost, Grant’s Leafs won. Argh!) I was out the door. Outside it was a beautiful clear morning with promise of warm afternoon sun. The thermometer read -5°C, and the truck was thick with a heavy frost. After a quick scrape, I was on the road by 8 a.m. heading for Loggers School Road, southwest of Corner Brook.

I joined the many other hunters taking advantage of the season’s first Sunday hunt in NL, but lucky for me most were in search of moose. I traveled in to a road over grown with alders that I had identified on a previous outing and jumped out of the truck to put some miles on my LL Bean boots. I trudged 1.5km down this old road before being forced to turn back it was completely choked off by alders. Along the hike, I enjoyed a brief encounter with a snipe and three ducks which, of course, are migratory birds and require a license I don’t have.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

On the return trip I thought back to other bird hunts I had been on over the years (admittedly, not enough since archery season for whitetail overlaps bird season) and I recalled that I never had much luck before 10 a.m. It was now almost 10, and the sun was reaching a height where it could warm the more open portions of the trail. I knew of another trail back off the main road a little ways that would just be catching the light and I decided it would be my next destination.

As I was driving on this cold morning, I thought grouse would want to find themselves a safe, sunny location to warm up a little. I knew I should be looking for roosting trees with a southeast aspect and places where the sun was poking down onto the forest floor.

I parked at the second trailhead, loaded up my Winchester 1300 20 gauge, slung my pack over my shoulder and crossed the road to the trail. The sun was right at my back, casting my shadow ahead of me. I took two steps down the trail and looked up to see a large, white-breasted grouse on the side of the path sunning himself while snacking on some alder leaves. The bird immediately suspected something was amiss and bolted into the underbrush. I quickly shouldered the gun, pushed off the safety, found the bead on the barrel and swung on the bird. I fired off a shot at the bird’s head and, the #6 shot cut a path through the brush, leaving the bird lying on the forest floor. I quickly checked my watch and it was 10:30 a.m.

I retrieved the bird and was staging a photo when a 4-wheeler emerged from the trail adjacent to me. The operator cursed under his helmet knowing that he was only a left turn and minutes away from flushing his first grouse of the day. After a quick discussion about population numbers, 20 versus 16 gauge, and moose hunting, he was on his way remarking he was just getting started for the day.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

On my next trip, I hope that I remember my personal 10:00 a.m. rule and sleep through my alarm. Just as long as I get there before my new buddy on the 4-wheeler, who evidently learned this lesson years earlier. After all, the wild is controlled by energy expended versus energy gained.I began the steady climb up the hill when I came to a large stream where the road was washed out. I took this opportunity to clean my supper. I checked my watch and realized that I had promised to be home to help with Thanksgiving supper at noon. This meant my day was now over. Returning with a grouse breast for supper made it all worth it, although I think going home empty handed would have been just fine too.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

%d bloggers like this: