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Triple Threat – Woodland Caribou Rifle/Bow

Mark Peterson
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Woodland Caribou in Newfoundland with rifle & bow, by Mark Peterson

In his quest for the North America 29 X 3, by taking each with a Rifle, Muzzleloader & Bow, Mark Peterson shares his hunt stories in a series we call “Triple Threat”.

It is easy to pick the location to hunt woodland caribou; they are only located in Newfoundland.  The tricky part comes in picking what outfitter to hunt with.  Newfoundland has a great number of outfitters offering moose and caribou hunting, but the vast majority of these outfitters use the road based hunting method and the their success rate on caribou is extremely low.   In talking with Jason Berger, the manager of WTA’s Outdoor Adventures, he suggested that I go with an outfitter who he has been working with for over 10 years and has had nothing but great success with.  This outfitter operates both lodge based hunts but also bush camps accessed only by floatplane.  We opted to do the bush camp hunt because of the greater trophy potential.  Our theory is that the farther you get away from people, the better the hunting opportunities will be.   On this hunt I was taking both my rifle and my bow.  I’m closing in on my rifle NA 29.  It was my hope and goal to take a 2nd caribou with my bow.

 

Joining me on this trip was my father, Earl and cameraman, Grant.  We took off from Michigan and landed in St. Johns, Newfoundland late at night.  The next morning we were picked up at the hotel by the outfitter and driven to a small lake about three hours away from St. Johns.  This is where the outfitters’ main operation is based and also the lake that he houses his floatplane on.  After getting our licenses squared away and gear packed into the plane, we were off.  The floatplane ride took about 45 minutes and it allowed us to see what the interior of Newfoundland looks like.  There are wet bogs all over the place with patches of aspens mixed in.  As our trip was in the middle of October and the colors were changing, we had a great view during our flight in.

 

Upon arriving at the spike camp, which consisted of two wall tents, we were able to get all of our gear set and ready for the next morning.  After a hearty breakfast the next day, we set off.  Dad went with his guide in one direction and I split with my guide and cameraman and went in the opposite direction.  I was shocked by the amount of ground we covered as we did five miles of hiking in the bogs before arriving at our first glassing knob.  Like all of the locations I had hunted this fall, the weather in Newfoundland was warmer than normal.  It didn’t take long on the glassing hill to realize that the large groups of caribou hadn’t migrated into the area yet.  We were seeing caribou scattered out but not the larger groups of 15-20 that are normally seen this time of year.   We ended up bouncing from glassing knob to glassing knob throughout the day and saw over 50 caribou but did not see any good bulls.  It was, however, a great first day of vigorous hiking and glassing.  Arriving back at camp we heard that Dad had similar luck.  They had seen about twenty caribou with one decent one who was not quite yet a shooter.  Overall, we all had a great day in the field.

Camp Life
Camp Life

On day two, we decided to head in the same direction that we hunted the first day out, while Dad and his guide went in a slightly different direction.   Upon arriving on the same glassing hill as the day before, we began to start spotting caribou.   The plan for the day was to stay on this hill and keep glassing, as the caribou would constantly be moving throughout the day.  But, our plan didn’t last long.  We had only been seated and glassing for about twenty minutes when we spotted a bull off in the distance.  The bull was about two miles away and in a patch of trees, but he looked to be a good bull.  Off we went on as fast of a hike as we could do across the bogs.  Getting set up on a close hill, we spotted the bull again.  He was with four cows, and seeing him up close, we quickly determined that we had a shooter for sure.  The caribou were heading our way, so I got positioned on a rock and made ready for a shot.  After waiting a couple of minutes, the caribou came thru the bog that we had set up on.  It was a quick 250 yard shot and the bull was down.  Walking up to him, I was able to see just how big of a bull he really was.  He was a true giant woodland caribou!!! After returning to the camp late that afternoon, we heard Dad’s story of seeing around 50 caribou but still no shooters.  Dad’s day was, however, a real success as they did call in a young bull moose to less than 50 yards.

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Mark’s Woodland Caribou with Rifle

On day three, I put my rifle down and picked up my bow but was not sure what to expect.  As our caribou thus far had all been out of bow range, being able to get in closer would be challenging as the area is very wide open and without much cover.  But, the caribou were in rut so you never knew what to really expect. I would like to say that we had to glass for days and hike all over the place to find my archery bull but, in reality, we were on the way to our glassing knob when we saw him.  Instantly I knew he was a shooter.  I quickly got my bow out of my pack and we slid over a bit to get in front of him.  I positioned myself right next to the path he was walking.  The wind was perfect.  He raised his head up and looked at me.  I quickly ranged him at 57 yards but he was facing right at me.   I drew back with the plan that as soon as he stepped one way or the other, I would let my arrow fly.  Instead, in an effort to get my wind, he made a quick gallop about 20 yards to my left.  He kept walking in a semi circle until he was downwind of me.  Once he caught my wind, he ran about 60 yards mostly parallel with me.  During this minute and a half, I was still at full draw.  He stopped and I knew he was farther away than the original 57 yards.  During the bull’s movement, I had done almost a 180 degree shuffle.  In my head, I did the calculation and figured he had gained 10+ yards on me, so I found my 70 yard pin and put it on his vitals and let the arrow sail.  The arrow hit perfectly and he only ran about 80 yards before piling up.  After the shot I did a quick range and found that at the shot he was 73 yards away, so I had chosen the perfect pin.  I can honestly say that this archery hunt for woodland caribou was one of the best hunting experiences I’ve ever had.  Viewing my bull up close proved that he was a great bull.   We packed him up and headed back to camp and waited to see how Dad had done for the day.

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Mark’s Woodland Caribou with bow

On Dad’s day three, he had again seen a lot of caribou but still not the shooter he was looking for.  This was great as it meant that I could accompany him on day four and hopefully I would be there as he harvested his caribou.

 

We could tell that day four was going to be a good one as the temperature had dropped and there was light snow in the air.  From every knob we would climb, we would see caribou, including a lot of bulls, just not the shooter we were looking for.  After lunch, we decided to do a big sweep up on a high ridge and make our way back to camp that way.  Walking the ridge, we continued to see caribou every fifteen minutes or so.  Around 3 PM, we spotted a large bull out in the middle of a bog.  He was about two miles away.  We started out after him, but once we arrived at the bog, the bull had disappeared and was nowhere to be seen.  After glassing up and down the bog, there still was no sign of him.  As we started to get ready to head back to camp, we knew that something just wasn’t right.  We noticed that there was a single lone bush in the middle of this bog.  After moving higher up on a rock, I could make out the tips of the bull’s antlers on the other side.  The bull was sleeping and bedded, for protection from the wind, on the other side of the bush.  This gave us a great opportunity to stalk in.  We were able to get Dad set up on a rock 200 yards out.  Then we waited and waited for the bull to stand.  As the sun moved lower and lower, the old bull finally stood up.  Dad made the shot count and down the bull went.  He was another great bull and this final hunt was a great way to top off an amazing adventure in Newfoundland.

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Earl’s Woodland Caribou

I was so impressed by the location, and the outfitter we hunted with, that immediately upon arriving back home in Michigan, I booked again to go in 2019.  On my next Newfoundland trip, my goal will be to harvest with my muzzleloader and complete my Woodland Caribou Triple Threat.

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Limited-Entry Alaska Dall Sheep: North America’s Pinnacle Hunt

Limited-Entry Alaska Dall Sheep: North America’s Pinnacle Hunt

As the December 15 deadline to apply for Alaska’s most coveted big-game tags approaches, one opportunity stands above all others: limited-entry Dall sheep. If you’ve ever dreamed of pursuing this iconic high-country species, now is the time to apply.

Why this Hunt Matters More than Ever

In the not-too-distant past, Alaska suffered back-to-back-to-back severe weather events that dramatically impacted Dall sheep populations across much of the state, resulting in fewer over-the-counter opportunities and even closures. Hunters have been forced to look to Canada, where hunts are now largely sold out through 2027 and prices have surged beyond $60,000. Even at such outrageous prices, availability is scarce.

This shift has made Alaska’s limited-entry draw areas for Dall sheep one of the most valuable options left for serious hunters. With hunts priced between $28,000 and $35,000, applicants can still access very high-quality white sheep at nearly half the cost of Canadian alternatives.

Exceptional Success Rates

Despite the challenges statewide, the limited-entry regions—managed by very conservative tag allocations—continue to produce outstanding results for the lucky applicants of WTA TAGS:

  • 100% shot opportunity during the past three seasons,
  • 90%+ harvest rates on mature rams,
  • Some of the largest Dall rams in North America.

For those willing to embrace the physical challenge, this hunt represents the ultimate North American mountain adventure.

Why…
My Alaska Range Grizzly Adventure

My Alaska Range Grizzly Adventure

I’ve been a bear hunter my whole life, but grizzly was always the dream. When the time finally came, I reached out to WTA to book a hunt. My someday hunt was finally becoming a reality. I thought I knew what I was hoping for: one good opportunity at a mature grizzly. What actually happened over those 10 days was beyond anything I could have imagined.

My journey began in Anchorage, where I stayed the night before flying into the bush. The outfitter has a liaison in town to help with any last-minute needs, so no rental car was needed. The next morning at Merrill Field, I boarded a turboprop (they use caravans, not tiny Super Cubs) for the 1½-hour flight into hunting country.

At the airstrip, the crew waited with Kong—a massive military deuce-and-a-half that can ford rivers, plus Polaris six-wheelers. After a stop at the roadhouse to organize, we headed to moose camp, about four miles upriver.

The camp itself told stories of 50 years of hunting. Cabin walls covered with dozens of hunters’ stories, as far back as the ’70s. Old regulation books showing $50 polar bear licenses. Boxes of ammo, left behind over decades for anyone who might need them. Four cabins with wood stoves surrounded the main lodge, and there was a creek-fed shower with endless hot water. A crate of beer stays ice-cold in the stream. It’s glorious. Remote Alaska with just enough comfort to keep you hunting hard every day.

From the roadhouse, we spotted two black bears on the mountainside. That evening, the cameraman Jordan and I glassed near camp, getting oriented for what was supposed to be a grizzly-focused hunt.

The next morning, those black bears were still there. We moved in. At 390 yards, with shifting thermals threatening to blow our approach, I took my shot. Low but lethal. Two more shots finished it. While butchering, we discovered this old boar was peppered with birdshot—dozens of pellets in each leg and shoulder. Somewhere, sometime, he’d been a problem bear. He could take a bullet. By 3 p.m., we had meat in the freezer and the hide salted. We were back to looking for grizzly.

Day two took us seven miles up the creek on six-wheelers, somewhat technical riding through river crossings and over rough terrain. Near the old sheep camp, we spotted a sow with three cubs and various black bears, but no boars.

Then everything changed. Rounding an alder-lined corner, our guide hit the brakes. A black bear ahead was acting strangely. It was actually approaching us. Behind him, a grizzly was hunting him, panting from the chase. The black bear, caught between predators, escaped up the cliffs.

The grizzly sat on its haunches, exhausted, looking between us and the black bear as it escaped. This bear was in full predator mode, seemingly calculating whether we might be easier prey. Then he simply lay down for a nap, 400 yards away, completely unconcerned by our presence.

For 34 minutes, I stayed behind the gun. Time passed slowly as we talked through every scenario: “If he does this, we’ll do that.” Finally, he stood and turned broadside at 415 yards. One squeeze, perfect shot placement. He barrel-rolled down the slope.

This was it—the animal I’d wanted forever, taken in a sequence I couldn’t have scripted better. Pure euphoria.

We had two bears down and over a week left of hunting. Day three was Jordan’s birthday, and we decided to get him a bear tag from camp. This would be his first hunt behind a rifle. We picked up a great black bear in no time. Jordan’s demeanor totally changed as he went into hunt mode and put a perfect 350-yard shot right into the bear’s heart. Top-tier birthday!

Three bears in three days with a week remaining. I bought a second tag and grabbed my bow. We spent four days searching for another bear, exploring drainages, following wolf tracks, catching Dolly Varden, and collecting shed antlers. Living the full Alaska experience while always hunting.

On the second-to-last day, I spotted a huge black bear doing loops through berry patches on a steep face. After multiple failed positioning attempts, I opted to go solo while Jordan and our guide filmed from a distance. The bear, hearing me crash through the alders below him, thought I was another bear invading his berries. At nine yards, with his hackles up and ears flat, I put an arrow through his front shoulder. Our group’s fourth bear.

Four bears in four days. An incredible adventure. This was the outfitter’s first year focusing on Fall bear hunting. The populations are thriving (evident from the moose without calves), and they’ve wisely increased tag allocations.

I came to Alaska with a lifelong dream of taking a grizzly. What I got was something I couldn’t have imagined: multiple species, incredible encounters, and memories that transformed a dream hunt into something beyond dreams. The grizzly lying down in front of us, completely unafraid. Jordan’s pure joy at his first bear. Stalking with my bow, close enough to hear the bear growling and clacking its jaws.

Some hunts meet your expectations. This one created new ones. When you book with WTA, you’re not just booking a hunt, you’re setting yourself up for adventures you can’t even imagine.

Learn about this Hunt

The Central Flyway is a waterfowl superhighway—a vital corridor for migrating ducks and geese—and for those of us lucky enough to be waterfowlers, it offers unmatched opportunities to hunt and experience the migration from September through January.

Over the past 40 years, I’ve had the privilege of chasing ducks around the world, but many of my favorite memories come from following this flyway, especially during those early years when my duck-obsessed father would pull my brother and me out of school every Fall to chase birds.

That’s right! We missed school every year for dedicated waterfowl trips. No regrets.

In the true north country, along the edges of Canada’s boreal forest, early-season hunts are nothing short of magical. The birds are just beginning their journey south—hungry, unpressured, and eager to settle into newly harvested grain fields. It’s a waterfowler’s paradise. The decoy spreads in these northern zones are often among the first the birds see, and their eager, uneducated responses can be absolutely breathtaking.

One of the most unforgettable sights is the famed swirling cyclone of Canada geese funneling down into a field. I can still hear my dad yelling over the deafening honks, his voice barely audible, “They can’t hear us!” The birds were so loud that those at the top of the funnel couldn’t even hear the gunfire below. If you’ve ever experienced it, you know exactly the kind of spine-tingling moment I’m talking about.

When the birds pushed south, so did we.

The prairie pothole regions of North Dakota are pure waterfowl gold. The right pothole on a cold morning—especially if you can find open water—can be magic. And if the water’s frozen? My dad had a fix: get there early, break trail through the skim ice, and push it under itself to create an opening. Voilà…open water.

I’ll never forget one frigid morning. After breaking ice, my hands were bright red and on the edge of frostbite. I looked at my dad for sympathy, but he just grinned as the puddle ducks cupped up and said, “Do you want warm hands, or do you want to shoot ducks?” Like I said, he was a fanatic. I grabbed the old Winchester pump and did my best. That day, I also learned the value of hand warmers and Gore-Tex gloves.

There are so many unforgettable moments:

  • Slipping and sliding at a Nebraska reservoir, laughing hysterically as we wondered if we’d ever get the old Suburban and trailer back up the icy boat ramp. After limiting out on greenheads.
  • Rowing across the Delta Marsh in the dark to find the perfect crescent-shaped bulrush island to set the decoys that the canvasbacks couldn’t resist.
  • Chasing snow geese in South Dakota and realizing we’d finally picked the perfect field, the one that made it worth all those hours spent spray-painting sheet-metal shell decoys in the garage.

These weren’t just hunting trips. They were memories shared with family, with friends, and with the great outdoors itself.

In the end, missing a week of school every year was worth every single minute.

The last duck hunt I shared with my admittedly duck-crazy father was a world away and half a lifetime ago. The hunt may be long over, but the memory will always stay with me.

At WTA, we’re proud to connect our clients with trusted partners so they can experience these same one-of-a-kind adventures.

We offer incredible destinations and outstanding outfitters all along the Central Flyway—from Alberta and Saskatchewan to North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma—so you can create your own lasting memories.

Call Worldwide Trophy Adventures at 1-800-346-8747 today to book your trip of a lifetime.

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