The Alaskan Hunt

Alex - Rexburg/Idaho/83440, Idaho
Entered on April 7, 2009
Age Group: 18 - 30
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The Alaskan Hunt

Getting up at 5 a.m. before the sun had risen didn’t seem like my kind of day. To my father, September in Alaska was paradise and that meant moose season. He told me to get myself out of bed. Being so cozy in my sleeping bag I did not want to leave. As I put on my hunting clothes, he had the gear loaded and the 4-wheelers started. The weather outside was cloudy with a little rain dripping down on our jackets. Most of the hunting trips I took with my dad we never seemed to find any moose worth shooting. Scoping all day, not showering for a week and eating candy bars and packages of hunting food was the life we lived.

Every day would start the same. We would set out on 4-wheelers and get to the highest hill in the area to scope out for anything with big enough antlers to shoot. I would sit on another hill for two hours and look through my binoculars. The view around me was green hills covered with tall brush, taller than any person. Not seeing any moose, my dad would come back from his spot and would unpack his spotting scope and not even 10 minutes later would sight in a Bull Moose.

For my dad, the fun began. The adrenaline has kicked in his system and we were off. We traveled what takes like an hour to where the moose was located. We needed to get above it on the hill to get a better shot. Carrying my backpack and gun up a steep hill was tiring and difficult. For a 58 year old man my dad was charging up this hill like he was taking it over in a war. As we moved nearer we walked slowly, tip toeing closer and closer. We needed to stay out of the wind so the moose could not smell us and get spooked. We found our position behind a rock. Kneeling 300 yards away, my dad told me to get my gun ready. It’s time. I position myself, pull up my gun and take aim. I’m worried I won’t hit it in the right spot or worse miss it completely. My dad told me to relax, aim carefully. I take a deep breath and fire. Hearing a loud whack I knew I had hit it behind the shoulder. It starts running. Its pace slows to a jog, then to a walk. The moose is breathing heavy. Without notice it finally falls.

Throughout this whole trip it took me a while to notice, but afterwards I realized my father loves to hunt, but I know this time off work and school he gets to spend quality time with me. We get to talk, travel, leave the world behind and set out with guns strapped to our backs and hunt. We had just taken down a moose. This is our father and son time together.

I believe in hunting!