My Mammoth Moose

Story By Zachariah Earl, Age 9

What if, for your very first hunt, you got the chance at a big bull moose? What would that be like? Just ask Zachariah!

My name is Zachariah Earl, and I am nine years old. My mom is a professional hunting guide with Pioneer Outfitters. I've grown up here in Chisana, Alaska. Getting ready for my hunt was a lot of fun, with the guys from Pioneer helping me get my horse ready and going on a "test" ride. My horse, Lonesome, tested me out all right...by taking me through all the brush he could find. I almost lost my saddle once! Finally, I heard the Piper Cub coming...my dad had arrived. We got back to the barn and I ran up the airstrip to help Dad with his gear. Dad was here after spending almost two weeks rearranging his work so that he could come with us.

Time to practice with my gun. One of the guys, Wade, had made my target: a life-sized moose. I had never shot the rifle I was to use, a .243, before. I was a little worried about the kick (recoil) because it sure made a lot of noise! After the first couple of shots, I figured out there was no reason to worry, so I shot six more rounds. After about eight shots, Terry said we could walk up and check the target…bullseye! I had a 2-inch, six-shot group. I passed the test, my group was awesome and Terry gave me the thumbs-up to go. The horses were packed and my mom had all of our gear and groceries ready for us to leave on my first Alaska-Yukon moose hunt. My mom, my dad, my best friend (and another one of Pioneer Outfitters' guides) Levi Coman and I had our picture taken. Then we were outta there!

We decided along the way that we would just camp where we wanted, not head for any known camp. After riding for about six hours across the river, through bogs and fields and brush, crossing creeks and battling a terrible cold wind, we found a spot that looked pretty good to make camp. Looking around, we found bits and pieces of what looked like a very old campsite—trees that had been cut and tied; broken, rotted piles that looked like they might have been used as tack rails or hitchin' rails. Terry told us days later, when we returned home, that it sounded like where he used to camp with clients when he was guiding for his mom years and years ago. Setting up camp was a race against the dark and wind, but we did it, working together. We had a quick dinner of burritos my mom had made at home, which we tossed in the fire to reheat, and some hot chocolate to warm up. We sat there looking at the campfire and stars and I couldn't believe I was really there, going on my first hunt, with my mom and dad and my best friend. I helped chase the horses up the creek, where we were really hoping they would stay and eat till we came and got them the next morning. I came back to camp and crawled into my sleeping bag...

...for the worst night of my life. I froze! We brought a light sleeping bag for me and I was too cold, so after flopping around, landing on my dad a few times, then landing on my mom a few more times, everyone woke up and my dad and I swapped sleeping bags before everyone finally got back to sleep.

The next day we gathered the horses, had breakfast and headed out to look for moose. We "busted brush," as my mom would say, for a while, heading to where Mom said we'd have a good spot to sit and look for moose. Boy, was it windy! It was a great spot to sit and look, but none of us could hold our binos very still, and when we did spot a couple moose, we certainly couldn't get the spotting scopes to hold still enough for a closer look. The wind just cut through everything I was wearing like I was sitting up there with nothing on, so Mom told me to hide behind some bushes that were right behind where we were all sitting.

Before I knew it, Mom was shaking me awake! She had decided to try it her way by riding around and seeing what we could see that way. As we were heading back down the big hill we had ridden up, almost to the bottom, I looked over and I saw antlers. I got my mom's attention, but when she came back, she couldn't see them. So we kept going. Moving along the treeline, we made a big loop and hadn't seen the other two moose we had seen from the hill, so we decided to go a little deeper into the trees on the way back towards camp. My dad said, "Hey!" Levi told me later that when he turned around and saw my dad's face—when he saw his eyes—he knew we'd found a winner. Mom must have thought the same when she turned around and saw my dad and Levi grinning like fools, because from that point on, it was all business and orders.

"Get down!
Tie the horses!
Get your gun!
Stay quiet!
Stay directly behind me!
Make sure that gun doesn't get pointed at me!
Keep up, boy!
Keep down!
Be very slow and quiet!
Watch me!
Watch where you put your feet!
Stop! Don't move!"
Then: "Range, 82 yards…get into position." This is what I came for, those words.
"It's all up to you, Zach."
"Take it slow, when you are ready."
"Wait! There is a cow moving out. Be very steady, Zach, I'm watching...I don't see any other cows, wait for your bull to be in the clear...still clear, when you are ready..."

Then, suddenly, I couldn't see anything. My bull had moved! "I can't see him, Mom!" Levi was right there, he dropped down in front of me, Mom threw my pack on his back and said, "There's your rest. Go slow and watch for more cows, Zach. Let me get over a little and check." All clear, my mom said, "Sixty-seven yards, when you are ready, son." Then suddenly the bull leaped and started to run. I squeezed the trigger and the bull took three stumbling steps and went down. Yippee, I did it!

The next thing I knew, everyone was screaming and jumping up and down. I had to ask my mom three times before I could be heard, "Now, Mom?" Yes! It's harder to run across the tundra than your average moose makes it look, let me tell you. My dad was so excited, he almost beat me there! Levi and Mom brought the horses over, there was more cheering and hooting. I can't believe everyone was so surprised, my dad, Terry and Mom, they've all taught me about guns, safety, shooting, being very accurate and humane…this is my life, I just did what we do.

Pictures were taken, I did a happy dance with my moose, then finally Mom pulled out her measuring tape…holy cow, I killed a 64-inch moose! A beautiful 64-inch, 4X4, Alaska-Yukon moose with a Remington Model 7 chambered in .243 with a 100-grain Core-Lokt bullet, one shot through the lungs, right on target at 67 yards while the moose was moving and using my best friend's back as a rest!