Glenn
Dunning is a member of New England Outdoor Writers Association
(NEOWA) and contributes monthly to Outdoors Magazine
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Outdoor Magazine, December '03 issue, Traveling Outdoorsman col. Submitted by: Glenn Dunning |
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Feast or Famine Hunting Caribou With A Bow |
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| It had been a long year since Stuart and Dawna Maclaren of Plainfield, Vermont had booked their first-ever caribou hunt. Dawna's dad Stan decided to join them and filled out the 1x3 guide arrangement. The outfit they had chosen was based out of Kuujjuaq on Quebec's arctic tundra and now on the first day of their hunt they watched from the back of their boat as Snow Camp, the isolated outpost that was their home for the week, faded from view behind them. It was August 19, 2003, the temperature was in the 30's and a 50 to 60 mph wind pelted their faces with rain. The guide, Steward, expertly banked the boat against the wind and cut the engine, maneuvering the shallows as they rounded a final point before putting into shore. Any misgivings about the weather evaporated as several caribou retreated from the water's edge as they approached. Steward had scouted this area in advance of the hunt and noted the worn, wide paths leading to multiple water crossings around this lagoon. Caribou, during the annual fall migration are constantly on the move covering 20 or more miles a day. They are expert swimmers and seem to be drawn to water crossings. This area of the tundra west of Ungava Bay constitutes the main travel corridor of the Leaf River herd which numbers in excess of 500,000 animals. Veterans of a tundra hunt know they can be thick as flies or impossibly scarce as they cross through an area roughly the size of New England. The Maclarens would witness this feast or famine contrast and Stu's determination to take a quality bull with his bow significantly increased the challenge. Steward had selected a slightly elevated piece of ground just 25 yards from the water's edge. With such inclement weather conditions they sought refuge behind a boulder. The rock, large enough to shield all four of them, offered relative comfort and a clear view of the barren wind swept tundra directly in front of them. They settled back against the rock's cold surface simultaneously detecting the movement of multiple groups of animals in several directions. They sat frozen in excitement as the minutes passed and from far out on the tundra's red-brown moonscape more and more caribou appeared. They were losing count as upwards of 100 animals meandered toward the water crossing directly behind them. As is not unusual during this stage of the migration, there were more bachelor groups of bulls than cows and calves. The massive headgear deceiving these veteran whitetail hunters as they tried to discern the difference between shooters and those they should let pass. It wasn't an easy task. The noise of the wind and the rain beating against their rain suits made it difficult to hear the guide as he pointed out the characteristics to look for in a quality animal. "Big tops sporting long tines and a wide spread combined with heavy palmed bez and at least one strong shovel splayed vertically over the nose" he explained. Dawna was the first to shoot capitalizing on a good bull that just kept coming, begging for a bullet. Within the next hour Stan took two from a group of bulls skirting just off to the side of their vantage point. Even as they butchered the three animals and hauled hindquarters and horns to the boat, caribou continued to cross the tundra and swim the bay behind them. By late morning they resumed their perch, Stuart still hoping to add an archery kill to their first day harvest. Then at 1:30 he nudged Steward to glass what appeared to be a better than average bull topping the crest of their plateau a mile distant. The guide acknowledged that this was indeed a shooter if it kept its course and came within range of a reasonable shot. Stu, who works at R&L Archery in Barre, has bow hunted for thirty some years taking elk, wild boar and numerous whitetails. His shooting ability is automatic and his Hoyt Cybertec and PSE carbon arrow combination gave him an effective range out to 50 yards or more. He was glad he had his rangefinder as it was essential for determining distances in such a foreign landscape. As the big bull approached, the attributes of its antlers became more apparent. At 40 yards Stu was tempted to draw yet hesitated, as the animal nonchalantly continued to close the distance. Then, almost as if by design, the bull raised his head and stepped to the left presenting a broadside profile at 25 yards. The arrow whispered across the rest holding true into the wind and slammed the bull behind the shoulder. He bolted thirty yards and tumbled into the wet ground. He was down. In all they had seen 400 hundred or more animals that morning. Some passing within 10 yards of their rock. The tundra does not always present such opportunities particularly for the die-hard archer. In fact, the group returned to this same spot the very next morning and saw only one small bull cross the area that just the day before had been littered with migrating caribou. By week's end all three had tagged out on two animals each but it is Stu's memory of that first day of their hunt that will one day bring him back to the tundra bow in hand. |
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