Hunting Stories

*This is a copy of an article that was published in RACK Magazine by Buck Master about the largest Whitetail Buck Alberta Native Guide Services Ltd. took in 1995. The story was written by Phil Preisel the hunter who took this buck.

Whitetail Deer Story

Although I have been hunting whitetail deer in Michigan for 26 of my 40 years, I have had very few opportunities to take a real trophy buck. After years of talking about a trophy whitetail hunt, Ron Marshall and I decided to book a hunt in Alberta. I was really hoping to take what I considered to be a trophy deer, not one that had to make "the book."

When Ron and I arrived in Edmonton on Nov. 18 it was 45 degrees F. Most of the snow was gone and it had been raining for two days. Sunday morning our outfitter picked us up and we could tell he had a rough time the week before. Ken told us the weather was not going to help and it looked like things were not going to change until the end of the week. We met up with our guide, Lindsay Untereiner, Sunday afternoon and he took us out to see the country we were going to hunt the following morning.

Ron picked out a spot that looked promising and set up one of the tree stands. I decided to set up on the edge of a field several miles from Ron. The following morning I heard a shot about 8:30 a.m. from Ron's direction and figured "one down one to go," knowing it couldn't possibly be this easy. Upon picking up Ron that evening it was quite a let-down to find that several resident hunters had noticed our setup. Ron had to watch them drag out a 190-200 class buck that he had spotted about 500 yards out and was waiting for a shot.

The afternoon of the second day, Ken decided to take us to another area he felt was more promising. Ken and I packed up everything while Lindsay went to collect Ron. We were to meet that evening and decided that we would split up and go one-on-one with a guide each. They set me up in a portable ground blind on the edge of a large oat and hay field. Wednesday morning before daylight I had a buck thrashing the brush 40 yards behind the blind but I never got to see him. That after noon the farmer who owned the property showed me a set of very large sheds from last year. He said that this buck was still around and much bigger this year. That really got me excited. The rest of the day was pretty slow. I only saw one little spike. But there was a weather front moving in and it had started to snow, so things were looking up. Thanks giving morning it was 15 degrees F and we had 2 inches of fresh snow. Lindsay and I felt that the deer should really start to move with the weather changing. He was going to drop me off and then go and set up a tree stand in another spot for the afternoon hunt.

I expected to see a lot more activity that morning but all I saw were several does just before dawn. I was honestly starting to get a little discouraged. About 7:30 a.m. I heard two loud grunts a quarter mile away. This was followed every three to five minutes by a single loud grunt over the next 25 minutes. I waited until things quieted down, and blew a single grunt from my call. I waited a couple of minutes and did it again, then quit. Fifteen minutes later the spike I saw the day before came out of the tree line and was looking around. Suddenly the spike looked to my right and I turned to see a huge buck trotting across the field toward me. He stopped directly in front of my ground blind, 85 yards out broadside. He looked directly at me then turned his attention to the spike I immediately aimed my 7mm Mag. toward the monster, making sure to center on his vital area and not the rack. I just knew this was the buck which produced those huge sheds the farmer had shown me the day before. I fired and watched the buck drop less than 30 yards from where I hit him.

I sat in the blind for probably five minutes, not really believing what I has just done, or really knowing how truly large this buck was. The excitement finally overcame me and I literally threw the blind over and walked over to find that I had bagged that "once-in-a-lifetime buck" we all dream about. After tagging him, I wandered back to the farm house to wait for the guide who was to arrive around 9 a.m. When I got there I told the farmer and his wife. She said, "You got old Charlie." They were almost as happy as I was. Lindsay arrived shortly and I told him, "We've got a problem." After a short pause I said, "I don't think this deer will fit in your truck!" Lindsay went nuts when we drove over the top of the hill. Looking the deer over he asked me if I had any idea what I had. I didn't and it took several weeks for it to sink in.

The deer was a 15-point Semi-Irregular buck with double drop tines. He field dressed at 260 pounds and was scored for Buckmasters at 195 by John Ohmer on Dec. 17, 1995. The deer was 6 years old and there was not a ounce of fat left on him. He was rutted right out. A single 175-grain bullet performed perfectly. It is very important to me that this deer was taken clean with one shot. It is my belief that as hunters we all owe the animals that much, especially a monarch like this.

The whole experience related to taking a trophy animal has been somewhat overwhelming. This being my first trophy hunt, I never considered the reaction my good fortune would generate. There have been several articles in the local newspapers, and I have had complete strangers call to congratulate me. Everybody I know wants pictures or a copy of the articles. The outfitter calls about once a week with more news about this deer.

Being somewhat less than knowledgeable about the trophy book aspects of deer hunting it has been difficult at times to tell fact from fiction. All I know is that I was fortunate enough to take an outstanding deer in my book, and that's all that counts. My two sons, 4 and 6 years old, think dad's monster whitetail is really something. They love showing off the rack. The best part of this experience was probably the letter I received from the people who owned the farm where I shot this deer. They probably paid me the best complement I've ever received when they wrote: "It's nice to know that there is still a real sportsman out there who respects wildlife for its beauty and not just for the sake of shooting." Nothing could have been more complimentary in my book. Outfitter Ken Steinhauer and guide Lindsay did a fine job under some rough conditions.

Moose in the Bush

(I would never have imagined that so much excitement could happen in just one day!)

Ken picked me up at the airport on a snowy morning and drove me about a hundred miles northwest of Edmonton, Canada, to the lodge where I would spend the next week hunting. We arrived early in the afternoon, meeting Armand and his wife at the hunting lodge. Ken informed me that I would be the only hunter in the camp for the first week, as most hunters would arrive on the second week. I had both a mule deer tag and a moose tag. Because of the weather being as it was, the plan was to concentrate on finding a moose. I learned that Armand would serve as my guide as well as my host.

The fist morning of my hunt, Armand and I decided to walk out of camp. I cautioned him that due to my age and physical condition that I would be limited in the distance I would be able to walk and would pace myself such that I would last all day. The terrain was much different than I was used to, since most of my hunting had been in the western States. The bush was thick with tamarack trees, willow trees and spruce trees. Our only chance of seeing the moose would be in the cut lines which we found going in various directions about every half mile to mile. We would walk down these cut lines and cautiously approach all intersections looking each way down the cut lines, hoping we would spot a moose feeding. We covered a lot of territory the first day, with me taking several rests. by late afternoon we were still a mile or two from camp and I had to request Armand to return to camp, get his pick up and come back to get me. My plan, since I was so tired, was to sit on a small hillside looking down by a small lake hoping to spot a moose. Even though I tried with all my wishing, nothing appeared, but I did get some rest. We were unsuccessful the first day and had only seen one small white tail buck all day.

We spent a second day driving around on many roads and trails, covering a lot of areas that look good. We took one or two long hikes, seen a lot of moose sign, however never spotting one. I was beginning to wonder if and when we would ever spot a moose. We also took one drive west to the river, where it had been reported that there was a lot of mule deer. We ended the day with no luck on either species.

The third morning we are up early and planned to make a ride towards the river where some hunters in a camp north of our lodge had reported that they had seen a moose on their return the second evening. We had just left Armand's property line and were heading down a dirt road. I guess I was a little sleepy or not paying much attention, but we had gone only about 2 miles when Armand hit the brakes saying, "Moose! moose!...running down the cut line on your right!" he quickly backed up the truck as I was grabbing for the door while he reminded me to make sure it was a bull moose. When he backed up I spotted the moose standing in the cut line at the edge of the thick bush. I quickly jumped out, looking through my binoculars to see whether it was a bull. In the dim morning light I could barely make out a small set of antlers, confirming that it was indeed a bull. I quickly lined up my sights and fired! The bull moose stumbled and turned towards the bush, but stood there giving me a second shot. I was unsure that I even hit it on the second shot, as I heard no tell tail sound.

Armand and I quickly headed to the spot where we had last seen the moose before he went into the bush. As it turned out, it was only about 175 yards from where I had taken the shot. We discussed what we had experienced as we walked towards the spot where we had seen him stumble, assuring ourselves that he had been hit, but still unaware just how well. on arrival to the spot where he had gone into the bush, we found blood sign and began looking into the thick bush to see if he was there. I could not see anything since it was so thick and dark in the bush, but Armand said the he could see a moose standing only about 20 yards away. At lest he was able to make out a hind leg. We both scrambled around, attempting to see him in order to get a shot, but was unable to get a clear shot before the moose took off through the bush making a racket as he and his horns were banging into the thick bush. Armand, being an experienced moose hunter. felt that it was useless for the two of us to pursue the moose. Instead he suggested that we go back to the lodge and he would call his cousin Lawrence, and any other friends that he could get hold of. The plan would be to allow the moose to bed down, since we could tell from the blood sign that he was hit pretty good and he would not go far before lying down. We would position ourselves on the cut lines while others would push the moose out of the thick bush.

About two hours later, Lawrence, his father and Don, the super tracker, arrived at the lodge. We then went back to the spot where we had first seen the moose. The plan was, I would walk down the cut line until I got the another large cut line, which was actually a power line right of way and twice the width of most cuts. If the moose had laid down, Armand and Don would track him, find him and push him towards the east to me in order to get another shot as he crossed the cut line. Lawrence would position himself about halfway on the east-west line, and his father would drive the pick up down halfway down the north side of the bush to watch in case the moose went either north or south, instead of east, to me. The plan sounded good and we all got into position. I waited anxiously for about one half hour, hoping that at any moment the moose would come out into the open and give me a chance to finish him off or that I would hear Armand yell that they had found him.

However, I soon saw Armand and Don coming out of the bush towards the cut line. The report was that they had indeed been able to follow the blood trail and had even found where the moose had laid down a couple of times. It had appeared that he had already moved across the cut line before I had got into position. The plan was now for me to go back and get Lawrence and the two of us would spread out on this power line cut heading south. Armand and Don would continue to follow the trail, which by all indications, appeared that the moose was headed south. We would watch in case the moose came across the cut line. I walked about a mile south and positioned myself and Lawrence continued towards the dirt road a further mile beyond. Again I waited and after an hour of not hearing or seeing any sign of the moose, I returned to where I had originally made my shot.

It was now around 2 PM in the afternoon when was all joined up again on the dirt road where on the dirt road running east and west, where Lawrence had been watching to see if the moose had been pushed that far south. We were now about one mile east and 3 miles south of where my original had been taken. By this time Ken, and another guide names Russell, had showed up at the lodge and learned of the moose push underway! Armand and Don had been successful in tracking he moose south and had even found that he had laid down a couple more times. They were convinced that since he had not seemed to cross the dirt road, he must have stopped and was likely lying somewhere within the half mile section of bush just north of where we were all standing. Our plan now was to have lunch at the lodge and then all 5 of the men would attempt to make a push through the bush towards me in the southeast corner. The moose had been consistent, for the last several hours continuing in a southerly direction and if we let him alone, we would find him or get behind him with five pushers and get him further south until he would cross the dirt road, giving me another shot.

When we arrived back at the section of bush, Ken stationed himself on the southwest corner so the he could see if the moose went south or west. I was positioned in the southeast corner so that I could watch in both directions. Lawrence's father would stay in the truck about half way down and honk if he saw anything. Everyone else went into the bush on the north side of the section, spread out and made a push for the south in hopes of driving the moose in my direction and attempt to cross the road near where I was positioned. I stood anxiously for twenty minutes awaiting the outcome, all the while hearing voices and the sounds of the men walking through the bush. I paced up and down, checking for the most open spot where the moose might emerge.

All of a sudden I heard a crashing noise not too far from where I was standing and looked up just in time to see the moose hobbling out of the bush and heading across the cut line. I quickly raised my rifle and go the cross hairs lined up as he was coming across the opening. For the first time I got to see him and I could tell that I had only broken the right leg with my first shot this morning. It was hardly lethal but had provided us a blood trail for 4 miles. I will never know whether it was because I was so anxious or excited or what, but somehow my shot totally missed! I couldn't believe that I had MISSED! The moose was back in the bush and heading south!

Hearing my shot, everyone quickly arrived where I had been positioned, thinking the moose must be laying down and that this day's hunt would be over! No Such Luck! He had quickly disappeared into the bush still heading south. It didn't take long to have everyone take up positions on the east and west side of bush as well as behind him, to continue pushing him south towards a couple of open meadows, again giving me a another chance. In his continued push south, he would pass by just east of the lodge and end up at a small lake.

I walked along with Lawrence, following the blood trail to where it intersected a small dirt road running north / south. Ken and Armand had taken the pick up truck down this road to end up at the small lake, keeping an eye to see if he would come out of the bush there. By the time I arrived where they had parked the pick up, Ken was already walking back to the truck from where he had just sighted the moose moving across a cut line. We suspected he would either hold up in the bush again or possibly continue towards the lake. Our only chance now was to get in the truck and head south far enough that we could catch a small dirt road heading west along the south end of the lake. We would get to see him unless he stopped in the bush and bedded down.

What a surprise! As we were heading west along the side of the lake, the moose was spotted on the west side, still hobbling. Now was the time for redemption! Either we could get a successful shot or we would probably lose him into the bush for the night. Finally, luck returned! With only two shots, one which hit him good, we now had our moose down, right next to the lake! When we all finally got back to the lodge, we were telling and retelling all the aspects of the days events.We couldn't believe it! We had started early in the morning and had been tracking and pushing the moose all day. What a full day of excitement! Twelve hours of hunting, tracking and pushing to get a moose! We all commented on how much fun and excitement we had all had! All in all, it confirmed what all hunters know. It is the excitement of the hunt, not the kill that we all enjoy. All of us had had a compete day enjoying the hunt. For me, I kept thinking of what we all would have missed if my shot had been placed perfectly and the hunt would have been over in the first 15 minutes of the day. We would not have had this day of excitement, the fun of the pursuit, nor the companionship this one hunt provided. I guess I was not destined to finish the hunt early in the afternoon either and our day went on until dark.

Indeed Don was a super tracker who never gave up, Armand had proved to be an experienced hunter and Lawrence, Ken and Russell were great pushers, while Lawrence's father did what he could to insure that the moose did not escape.

It is another story in what it took to get the moose out the the bog by the lake and to the skinning shed! We had started at 6 am and finished at 11 PM. There is no way to pack in anymore excitement into a day of hunting than what I experienced with Alberta Native Guide Services that day. This had indeed been a push through the bush for moose that I will never forget and will cherish as one of my greatest hunts ever!