MOOSE PUDDLE
1980 – Moose Hunt Starts
1982 – Lorin's Permit
1996 – Snookey’s Permit
The adventure actually started in 1980 when it was legal once again to hunt Moose in Maine. This is a lottery draw permit system, Lorin and I have put in for a permit every year since 1980. Finally in 1982, Lorin and a friend of ours Joey DeRosche, which was Lorin’s subpermittee, got their permit to hunt Moose. Their zone was northeast. So we packed up all our gear, Lorin’s great list and my Dad’s old stripped out Scout to haul the big game. I went along for the trip to help out and do the women thing of taking care of camp. We ended up in Hersey, hunting the big fierce Moose. If memory serves me correctly, it was a warm week with lots of rain. We hunted every day, seeing a few moose from long distances and a big old Black Bear that just happened to cross our path, he got away. We got a little worried come Thursday and no Moose yet, all the pre season Moose had disappeared. Joey spotted what appeared to be fresh Moose tracks crossing the road. Eagerness and anticipation renewed we parked the truck and walked in. Their “he” was standing in the middle of a beaver bog. Lorin fired his 308 without a moment’s hesitation and took the Moose down with one shot where it had stood – in the middle of the pond. Here comes Joey on a dead run over to Lorin, when Lorin looked over and saw a huge bull standing looking at him a few yards away, probably wondering what all the commotion was about. Boy what temptation can do to a man. This bull was at least twice the size of the one down in the pond. Luckily Lorin was good at controlling his or we would have had a dilemmia on our hands trying to explain two Moose to our friendly wardens.
Well, we shot the Moose in the middle of the bog and the only thing sticking out of the water was one horn. No one wanted to get wet and fight the blood suckers. We tried throwing a rope to no avail. So I volunteered, but the guys didn’t want me to show them up so Lorin waded to the moose and dragged it or floated it to shore. Now the fun begins, after dressing out the Moose, we had to get it out to the truck! So Lorin, Joey and I all had rope harness and three beers that we sat every ten feet, we could have a beer when we got the moose dragged to the next can. I had the middle harness, and gave pull, I slipped with my new jeans and the boys pulled the moose over the top of me….nice cavity. Boy was that a treat and a lot of work. Well anyway we got the moose home. Lorin lived in Bangor in a much respected neighborhood across from the Eastern Maine Hospital. No one was real pleased with a moose hanging in the Willow tree in the front yard.
As you all know there was a lot of controversy over having a moose hunt and Lorin got his permit the year before the big vote in 1983. We gave away a lot of moose meat to persuade some of those votes. Being the radical Lorin can sometimes be, he couldn’t resist putting on his trucks tailgate “Eat Moose 10,000 coyotes can’t be wrong.
So it turns out we got to keep our moose hunting rights.
We continued to put in for our permits and after fourteen years it was my turn. I got my permit and Lorin was the subpermittee. I was so excited and couldn’t wait for October 7th that year to arrive. The zone I picked was southeast for the reason that we lived on Alligator Lake and own the sporting camp and do guiding. It was close to home and I have been watching a nice bull who had been handing around our home. Well the day finally came and so our true adventure begins, Lorin and I left the house bright and early Monday morning, the weather was great and we had high hopes and lots of determination, parked and called, drove a lot of roads and managed to see one bird, but no moose. All that pre season scouting and all the bulls were once again gone. We had to go to Bangor to replace a shock we had broken bouncing down roads. Tuesday we were doing a little bit better, we drove down one road and stopped by Alligator Stream and Lorin walked down to take a look while I waited in the truck, the next I know he is running up the bank, “get your gun quick” he said, well I am out of that truck like a shot, down over the bank I go and there is a huge cow with a calf. I just watched her walk out of my scope; I wanted to hold out for that bull I had been watching, so we continued traveling all the side roads and magin – no moose. It was getting late so we decided to head home, by way of the Stud Mill Road from somewhere down by Sabeo and down the road runs another cow with a calf, not really legal game since legal shooting had ended. Then we are 27-00-0 almost home and there is another cow and calf standing in the road. They saw us and the calf takes a left side of the road, and the cow heads down the road and turns in our driveway. I couldn’t believe it – maybe it would run into the cooler. So we were skunked for Tuesday. Here comes a new day and hopefully better hunting as we drove roads were there were none and walked bogs – brooks and hardwood ridges and to no avail. No moose, but we did see three birds and one doe in a clear cut. We got a few pictures of her, as deer are few and far between now out this way. I was getting discouraged because I really didn’t want to be one of the few that didn’t get a moose. Being a woman and all, I felt I had something to prove. We decided come Thursday morning to drive first thing and if we didn’t see anything we would take a canoe down Seven Mile Brook in Aurora. The weather wasn’t all that great, but what the hell we weren’t getting anywhere road hunting. So we load the canoe and drove down to Seven Mile. Arriving at the brook, we unloaded the canoe and packed the gear. Down Seven Mill Lorin paddled while I scouted for my moose. See I was lucky I had a Master Guide and he assured me we couldn’t miss by canoeing, there would be moose all down the brook. Down the brook we went over beaver dam after beaver dam and twisting water, there is a camp down the brook with an access bridge over the water, we had to portage as the bridge is just off the water. Then there were more beaver dams, an old rip logging dam and shallow water with rocky bottom and we had to drag the canoe. It was a gorgeous place to stop because of the huge rocks and hardwood ridge, perfect fall color, absolutely beautiful. We rested for a few minutes taking out and enjoying the rip, even though it was on the damp dreary side. All of sudden I heard this crashing noise along the right shore, so Lorin swings the canoe so that I am facing the shore, we see the shape thru the dense brush by shore and at first I thought it was a moose. So I am standing up in the canoe trying to get a better look and Lorin is telling me to sit down and not to shoot yet. Well as I got to looking I turned and said BEAR. Lorin never heard me say Bear, he thought I was still looking at what I thought at first was a small moose getting a drink a few feet in front of us. So I couldn’t fire and then the bear crashed off, I turned and asked Lorin why he didn’t want me to shoot the bear, he says what bear? I didn’t hear you say bear and since when do you listen to me anyways, you should have shot. Well whether I shot or not, it was exciting to see a bear that close. Well after that bit of excitement we continued on down to the old foot bridge which is fallen apart (this once was the way to an early village). It must have been about a four mile trip from the 29-00-0 road. Anyway by this time because I wasn’t paddling as I was cold and frustrated at not seeing my moose and it looked like spitting snow. So we decided to head back up stream, Lorin put my gun under his seat in a case so I could help paddle to warm up. We were talking and paddling along for about a couple of miles. And we came around a corner of the brook where it spread out wider and behold there was my moose my Master Guide had promised. Excitement that is felt hardly explains the feelings. I am screaming at Lorin to give me my gun that this moose wasn’t getting away. Boy they look a lot bigger than they are at a distance. Anyway Lorin passes me my gun and he's trying to tell me to wait until he puts the canoe to shore so we don’t tip over but I never heard him. I fired the first shot, never felt the gun kick as it usually hurts my shoulder when I practice with it. It’s only a 7mm 08 Remington bolt action, great little gun. Back to the story, so the moose faltered in the water and headed for shore, I went to shoot again but forgot to eject the empty shell. Lorin was telling me to shoot again, but I just so use to shooting a semi auto. The 2nd shot he was on the shore, I thought he was heading for the hardwood ridge and didn’t want to loose him. So I handed my gun to Lorin go make sure the moose stayed put. Lorin put the 3rd shot thru the neck and down he went. After I calmed down the work began. We field dressed the moose and finally got the moose rolled into the canoe, we had a radio with us and tried to get some help to get this moose out, but no one answered on the company repeater. Funny how your friends disappear when there’s work at hand. So with moose loaded, I am setting on the moose’s neck, antlers between my legs and I am trying to paddle. The canoe is off kilter because most of the moose’s weight is on the left side of the canoe. We had to get the moose out in a brook that ending having eleven beaver dams, a rift dam, a bridge and shallow water. It was the longest two miles of Seven Mile Brook I have had to paddle, we made it after dragging, pulling, straining muscles we never thought you had, but that bull came out whole. Not quartered and it never fell out of the canoe. After finally getting back to the road we hooked on to the canoe with the pickup and pulled it up the bank and down the road to a turn around so we could figure out how to load the dam thing since rigor had set in and the moose was now modeled to the canoe shape and wedged tight. We come-a-longed the canoe with moose still in it into the truck, breaking the rack off the truck in the process. All loaded we headed for Wesley and Cloud Nine Dinner to tag our well deserved moose. At the tagging station they had a map of where all the moose had been taken, every road we had been on showed three or four moose taken. People look at you kind of funny; like why did you go to all that trouble to shoot a moose, I guess it is a story of a life time and fun, we were looking for a story with a little more of a twist to it and we got one with pictures to prove it. The ironic thing about this that I also shot my moose on Thursday at 1pm, which was the same time and day Lorin got his fourteen years ago. One last not that nice bull moose we had been watching pre season is alive and well as we saw him in the door yard on the way home from town Saturday the last day of moose season, standing with a cow and calf. He knew he was safe legal shooting had just ended, wonder what deer season will bring.
