I’ve been captivated by the allure of hunting in remote, wild places like Alaska and northern Canada ever since I was a kid. The stories I read in magazines and books weren’t just tales, they were adventures that felt like they called directly to me. Among these, the stories surrounding moose hunting in the wilderness of North America were my favorites. They painted a picture of a world so incredibly different from my own, chasing the largest member of the deer family. It was a dream that seemed just out of reach. I never really believed I’d get the chance to experience it myself, but life has a funny way of turning dreams into reality.
My moose hunt began in an unexpected way. I was in discussions with WTA about my media group, The Fair Chase, exploring ideas for filming hunts. We had been considering a moose hunt for the following year, so mentally, I was already preparing for this adventure. But when Jason Berger from WTA called about a last-minute cancellation, offering a spot for a moose hunt in British Columbia that very year, I knew I couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. This area is known for having strong moose populations and a high success rate. The call came on August 11 (my birthday), and by September 3 we were on our way to British Columbia, leaving us a mere three weeks to prepare. I reached out to Jordan Parham, our cameraman, to see if he could join us. His enthusiasm matched mine, and soon we were deep into planning the logistics of filming in the Canadian wilderness.
The preparation for the hunt was intense. Moose season was only a few weeks away, and we had a lot of work to do. Getting a moose permit and planning travel took some time to figure out. Filming added a layer of complexity to the expedition, with considerations for equipment, batteries, and the challenges of capturing the hunt effectively in such a rugged environment. Yet, this added dimension was what made the whole experience even more thrilling. Click here to watch the video.
Our journey to British Columbia was a marathon drive from Michigan. We were already partially packed, initially planning for an elk hunt in Montana, but the destination changed to the wilds of northern British Columbia. The drive was long, spanning 47 hours. In fact, the drive was an adventure in and of itself. We traversed various landscapes, saw tons of wildlife (at one point, we saw eight black bears along the road in a stretch of only a few hours), and experienced the vastness of North America in a way few ever do.
Crossing the border with my rifle, a Christensen Arms .300 Win Mag, was a concern, but WTA’s guidance made the process smooth. We crossed at Portal, North Dakota and the Canadian border officials were surprisingly enthusiastic about our hunting expedition. This smooth crossing was a relief and set the tone for the rest of our journey.
Upon arrival in British Columbia, the reality of fulfilling a childhood dream hit me. The logistics, which seemed daunting to navigate alone, were efficiently handled by WTA. I chose to drive to allow me to bring back as much moose meat as possible. This was more than a hunt; it was a mission to feed to my family. Hunting is both an adventure and a connection to the land and all it provides.
The hunting camp was a world unto itself, set in a location that could only be described as the heart of the wilderness. Accessible only by bush plane and boat, it was surrounded by signs of wolves and grizzly bear. The camp was basic but comfortable, a perfect blend of ruggedness and necessity, with wall tents, cots, and a lean-to for chores. It was exactly what I’d imagined as a kid.
The first few days of the hunt were a mix of anticipation and patience. We were in moose country but the action was slow. We spent our time boating up the river, hiking through the wilderness, and glassing for moose. The warm weather initially kept the moose activity low, but we remained vigilant, knowing that things could change any day.
The turning point came with a shift in the weather. Smoke from Canadian forest fires rolled into our valley, reducing visibility but also bringing a much-needed cold front. This change in weather was a catalyst for the moose, signaling the start of the rut. Our guide, Dawson, predicted that the moose would become more active, and he was right.
On the sixth day, the hunt took an exciting turn. We spotted a small bull moose, and Dawson let out a series of moose calls, using his experience and knowledge of their behavior to lure in a large bull. The response was immediate and electrifying. A larger bull emerged, its antlers catching the sunlight. I was stunned by how much light a moose antler reflects, sticking out like a sore thumb, even at 1,000 yards away. We knew this was the moment we had been waiting for.
We quickly hiked down to the boat to approach from the proper wind direction. Crossing over a gravel bar loaded with fresh tracks, we entered the bush. The stalk through the swamp to the bull was challenging and exhilarating. The terrain, which looked relatively tame from a distance, was much different when we dove in. Knee-high water and towering willows made stalking quietly difficult. As we moved closer, the encounter with the moose became more intense. Multiple young bulls responded to Dawson’s calls, chasing a cow past us.
We rounded a corner in the brush and stumbled upon another bull moose that we hadn’t initially seen. He was big, but not quite a shooter. We let out a few more calls, and the bull started to respond with grunts of his own. Suddenly, we noticed another, larger set of antlers emerge in the brush. The younger bull had helped us out by calling in the one we had come for. Slowly, the larger bull sauntered our way, emerging from the brush at 100 yards.
Tensions were high as the giant bull approached. This was the culmination of days of waiting, weeks of planning, and years of dreaming. I waited for an open shot, and I was able to put the bull down quickly. Just like that, a childhood dream was realized in the most dramatic way.
Approaching the downed moose was an experience I’ll never forget. The size and majesty of the animal were overwhelming. Its 50-inch spread stuck out of the grass like a crown. As you’ll often hear from long-time moose hunters, the real work began after the moose was down. Quartering and packing out a 1,200 pound animal is not an easy thing to do—a bit different from the deer hunts we do back in Michigan.
That night, we ate fresh moose tenderloins around the fire and shared stories from the day. We were tired, sore, but very happy. We’d done what we traveled to British Columbia to do.
Finally, we embarked on the journey back, flying out in three separate plane loads. The strong winds and tight schedule added to the challenge, but the determination of our pilot, Murray, ensured the safe transport of us and the giant bull moose.
We loaded the moose meat into a generator-powered chest freezer I had loaded in the back of my pickup and headed home. Crossing the border back into the U.S. was a smooth process, thanks in part to the meticulous preparation of the moose head for transport. The entire experience, from the anticipation of the hunt to the satisfaction of bringing home a substantial amount of moose meat, was a profound journey.
This hunt was more than just a pursuit of game; it was the fulfillment of a childhood fascination and a chance to experience the beauty and challenge of the Canadian wilderness in incredible moose country. It was an adventure that tested our skills, patience, and endurance, culminating in an unforgettable experience that will be cherished for a lifetime. The days of waiting, the moments of intense action, and the ultimate success of the hunt were a vivid illustration of the essence of hunting—a blend of anticipation, skill, and respect for the wilderness of North America.
