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- Category Hunting Stories
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- Prostaff Member Trout Whisperer
I was busy pulling a lake trout from the bottom of one cold bwca Trout Lake. Life is good. I knew it was a signature fish. The tug, weight and rod bent meant this was a wall hanger. Blue sky, sunshine and no bugs sealed the deal, or so I thought.
Big fish is really a matter of opinion. Somebody's always catching a bigger one. Some lakes are bigger than others. Everything has a bigger.
My fingers were shaking when I got the jig out of the Lakers jaw. I was buzzing with enthusiasm. How much better could things get? I took a quick photo simultaneously going over mentally a recipe for baked laked trout.
I gazed across the water celebrating; I wasn't sure what was catching my eye. I stared. I tried to look with more clarity. My mind settled on two beavers swimming. No that's not right, I looked again. It was chocolatety colored. Moving for sure. I reached into my tackle box for my binoculars.
Now being up north in the forest it may occur to someone quicker minded than me, but I finally got the sight picture of one large moose, not like there is a lot of small moose. I have seen plenty of moose. This one was big, with great big fuzzy antlers, not a world record, but impressive.
It was swimming towards the north shore of the lake I was floating atop of. One day previous I had been trolling where the moose was headed today. My memory of an impenetrable shoreline and an eventual moose meet up were in conflict.
Okay now Water doesn't recede; the moose just rises from the lake. Its stands head shaking, knee deep. Right head turn, major spread in moose antlers. Deep thick boreal forest. Tight close knit threading of cedar trees. Big moose, big woods.
I don't think trees and moose have much separation in thinking. Bull going into trees with soft velveted antlers. Trees trying to survive Bullwinkle's attitude thatâ Im walking in right thereâ no matter what.
When those soft antlers met the greenest fragrant tender cedar bows all was well. Then the moose met the tree trunks and everything went to you know where in a hand basket. It slipped on the rocks. The trees swayed. The moose backed up and tried again in the exact same spot. Mr. Moose started to sound like a bulldozer and rocks were kicked back into the lake.
The forest remained.
The moose stood.
The moose stood some more.
The moose turned around and started to make sense. I thought sure as shootin he would just swim back from where it came.
I got the back part right. He went backwards into the cedars until all that remained visible was first one antlered beam, then a head shift, the other antler was twisted, swallowed in the woods. Now im thinking, Moose are smarter than trees.
Now I have to ask myself, what's bigger than a moose in Minnesota, Just the forest it walks or backs into?