6th Prize
Hunting Journal with Weatherby Logo (100 awarded)
Perry Bloodworth, Colorado
“I am quietly making my way through the maze of Western Hemlock and various evergreen trees. My Weatherby 300 is slung across my back holding my knapsack close to my body. I'm going to have to move whatever is poking me to the front of my bag. The air is crisp and cool. I can see my breath. The sky is a brilliant blue with occasional wisps of fluffy white clouds contrasting starkly to the blue background. It's early September and the moose have already moved into the higher elevations.
The ATVs are a mile or so back through the forest. We have another mile to trek before we get to the promised prime hunting ground. Oh! I exclaim out loud as I swat my own face. Three hundred sixty-five million acres in Alaska and I end up walking through the acre with 365 million mosquitoes. I can't say I wasn't warned. I have plenty of DEET on and even though they are annoying, I will survive.
I spot a small clearing ahead on a little knoll. The meadow is lush and green with several types of unknown grasses and weeds growing in it. I decide to climb the knoll and scout the area.
My vantage point is emotionally overwhelming. I can clearly see the snowcapped mountains rising dramatically in the west. I think there's supposed to be a glacier over there somewhere. The forest is like a carpet of green and gold extending as far as the eye can see. The view is the most spectacular I have ever witnessed...the real definition of ‘awesome’ jumps in my mind.
But I am here to hunt. I have licenses for moose, brown/grizzly bear and caribou. My most reliable hunting partner, not counting my dad, RIP, is here with me. My hunting partner holds up a Nikon camera. I nod yes and the camera starts clicking away at what can truly be described as breathtaking. My wife puts the Nikon cover back on and gives me the thumbs up that she's ready to go.
As we make our way through the trees again I catch a glimpse of movement way ahead. I crouch down and watch. Nothing. I start to move ahead slowly and stealthily. I see something that's not vegetation. It's brownish in color about 200 yards ahead through the pines. It moves again. Oh my gosh! It's HUGE! I can't quite figure out what it is from this distance. I move my rifle from its resting place on my knapsack and slide it around to butt up against my shoulder. Maybe I can get a better look at the massive creature through the scope. Nope, the trees are too thick. Where's that guide of mine? He was traveling parallel to us. I motion to my wife, point in the direction of the creature and shrug. She stares intently into forest for what seems like hours. She suddenly gets a smile on her face and puts her hands above her ears like Mickey Mouse and then spreads her fingers out. CRASH! Crash, thump, crash!
It was heading right for us at full speed. My wife sprints off at a 90-degree angle. She will wait quietly, unseen, since I won the coin toss to get the first shot. The noise is deafening. Closer and closer. My rifle is poised for the shot resting on a dead branch about two feet above the ground. My heart is pounding, I can hear each beat in my ears. I hold my breath to calm myself down.
Crash! Crash, thump, crash, beep, beep, beep! Beep?
‘Honey, the alarm is going off. Time to get ready for work.’
A dream. My favorite dream. The best dream. Alaska is the greatest hunting ground that I have yet to experience. The sheer beauty of such an untamed wilderness calls to me. It calls to my wife. I can only hope one day to bring this dream to life.”