September Aurora

The Aurora was out tonight, 

as was a full moon!

Denali in September!

Mike and I drove 120 miles south of Fairbanks to Denali National Park today (Friday).  The park road is open all the way to Mile 30. We saw 2 bull moose, 2 grizzlies, 1 caribou and about 20 Dahl Sheep. Unfortunately, we could only see them through binoculars, too far away for photographs.  And, yes!  We saw lots of snowflakes falling from the sky!

Grizzly Tracks!!!!

 

 Other sights from Denali!!!

Canning & Smoking & Windy Sunday

We had a very busy Sunday! We spent this unusually warm day canning tomatoes and making spice cran-apple jam from the cranberries in our backyard. We also made pickled green tomatoes with jalepeno peppers, garlic peppercorns and lots of fresh dill. To top it off, Mike smoked a pork tenderloin. With all the wind, Mike had to dodge the falling leaves while out smoking!

September Afternoon

 Mike and I ran some errands yesterday and decided to stop by Creamer's Field to capture some spectacular fall colors.  We also found something very "interesting" at Fred Meyers.  See below!

Creamer's Field in the Fall

  

Odds and Ends

  The world's smallest oversized cabbageweighing in at 6 ounces!

I guess that's what happens when a moose eats and tramples the plant.......

 A stylin' set of wheels at Fred Meyer.

I fully suspect that it has a pumpin' audio system and may even bounce at stop lights!

Another Saturday Hunting

Mike and I were determined not to let another Saturday go by without trying to get a moose.  We packed up the camper and headed out Friday afternoon.  After arriving at our "secret" spot, we dropped the pop up and went out to find our bull.  As the skies cleared, it was obvious that it was going to be a cold night.  Not seeing any signs of moose, we hiked back to the camper, turned on the heater and snuggled in for a short night of sleep. 

With the camper toasty warm, Mike and I were quite content and looking forward to an early morning hunt.  Unfortunately, at 2:00 a.m., the battery on the camper died and our heat source went with it.  When we got moving at 6:00, it was 28 degrees in the camper.  Dressing quickly, we drank our coffee to warm up and then headed out to our hunting site.  As we settled into a quiet, hidden spot, so did the fog.  It couldn't have been more than 30 minutes before the whole valley had disappeared in a blanket of low clouds.  This obviously made hunting very difficult.

As the fog began to burn off, Mike and I decided that we were almost as frosty as the plants surrounding us.  So, we packed up, headed back to our campsite, hooked the car up the camper and drove home.  Not seeing one moose was extremely disappointing.  But, crawling into our warm bed with the electric blanket set on high, Mike and I fell asleep and quickly forgot about the disappointment.....

Fog begins to lift after a long morning of blanketing the valley.

 Frost coats the leaves, as Mike and I sit and freeze while watching 

for that one moose to meander by our hunting site.

 Red leaves must mean that winter is just around the corner!

 Mike scans the valley for some bull!

Half a moon.....where's the other half?

The One That Got Away!

 
September 1st: Opening day of moose season.  September 1st: A Saturday.  September 1st: The start to a three day weekend.  September 1st: The day Mike and I would almost (emphasize ALMOST) get a moose!

On Saturday, September 1st, Mike and I awoke to a dreary, drizzly day.  We crawled out of bed, drank a cup or two of coffee, and got moving.  It was hunting day!  We loaded up the camper, packed up the guns and headed down to our favorite moose spot.  I'm not really sure why it's our favorite moose spot, because we've never gotten a moose there.  Really, it's the only spot we know.

Mike and I hit the road with optimistic hearts and minds.  We were gong to get a moose!  As we drove, we planned our strategy for bagging the biggest member of the deer family.  I would call in a bull and Mike would shoot it.  And for those of you who think calling a moose is, "Here moosey, moosey," there is a depth and skill to calling in a bull.  One must have talent!  One must possess three key things: 1. a good, heavy, solid stick; 2. a birch tree (although spruce will do); and 3. a good set of pinching fingers.

What do you do with these three key things, you might ask!  Number one is used to hit and scrape number two.  This leads bull moose to believe there are other bulls in the area.  In their small moose minds, the hitting resembles two bulls clashing their antlers together.  The hearing moose will want to come and get in on the action.  The scraping of the tree with the strong, sturdy stick resembles a bull scraping his antlers against a tree just before the rut.  So, you can see how important the first two are to enticing a bull into a hunting spot. 

 Number three, though, requires some major skill and practice.  First, one must pinch the nostrils of their nose, cup their hands around their mouth and call like a cow moose who is wanting a bull to come for a visit.  If you want a good idea of just how to do this, check out this Canadian (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36q8sHC6Kg4).  After hours of practicing in the privacy of our home, I was ready to perform for every bull in the area!

With a plan in place, Mike and I set up camp and immediately went to scout out a hunting spot.  We walked up hills and down hills.  We traversed rugged terrain until we found just the right spot.  At approximately, 8:07 p.m., we marked our spot and then set our waking up alarms for 4:00 a.m.  On the hike back to camp, we talked about how awesome it would be if we stumbled upon a bull on the way back.  Then, we talked about how awesome it would be if a bull showed up in our camp.  Oh, were we dreaming of the easy hunt!  Of course, nothing ever turns out that easy!  Right?

We did make it back to camp without spotting a moose.  Hungry, we decided it was time eat some dinner and then get to bed early for that 4:00 a.m. wake up call.  Mike boiled some delicious water for our Mountain House meals (which I would not recommend to anyone).  I had chicken and rice and Mike had beef stew.  Amazingly, Mike loved it and I ended up eating an oatmeal cookie.  Okay, I've digressed.  Back to the meat of the story!

Just after finishing the few dishes we had used, Mike went outside to throw out the dishwater.  He came back to the camper and said, "Quick!  Hand me the rifle!  There's a moose right here!"  Obeying his orders, I handed him the rifle and quickly followed.  We moved stealthily over crunching leaves and broken branches.  We circled around to the back of the moose, when we heard it: an ATV's motor that just shut off.  Someone on the main trail must have seen the moose, too.  

Mike and I knew if the hunter was going to shoot, we would be in his line of fire.  We retreated back to the trail to inform the hunter that we were there.  The look of shock on his face said it all.  From where he was, he could  not see our campsite.  He had no idea that anyone was in the area.  Obviously, the shock wore off quickly.  It didn't take long until he lifted his rifle and aimed through the scope.  The hunter pulled the trigger and the moose went down.  

Just 50 feet away from our campsite, lay a bull moose shot by another hunter, going in another person's freezer and on his dinner table.  While on the inside, Mike and I were feeling sad about us not being the ones who shot it, we were happy for the other guy. Sort of....

You  may think the story ends here, but it doesn't.  Mike and I had one more thrill.  We got to watch Mr. Hunter field dress this 1,000 pound animal.  From the skinning to the taking off the meat to the slitting open of the abdominal cavity, each part of the dressing process was a sight to see!  Since we have never dressed a moose, this was a very good experience for when we do get one.

The field dressing was finished at 12:15 a.m. Mike and I knew that in four hours we would be waking up to start our own hunt.  We quickly got a few hours of sleep and then went out to find our own moose.  I am sorry to say that we did not see the first bull (or cow).  Although a little discouraged, we will not stop hunting.  Next Friday night, you will find us at our favorite hunting spot trying once again to bag a bull!