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Mistaken Identity

MOOSE HUNTER STUMBLES INTO CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY 

The end of another long day of hunting, the weather is perfect, the clean smell of late fall in the air.  As the sun sets past the horizon, I checked my watch-less than five minutes remain for hunting.

As I walk toward my truck, there it is!  What a rack, this is it!  Very carefully I take deadly aim and fire.  The moose whirls and disappears.

I run to the spot, but the moose in gone.  The signs were there that my bullet had gone true, but now time was up and darkness sets in.  I followed the tracks through the now but it is too dark.  I must come back at daybreak.

The next morning as the first rays of light appeared, I picked up where I left off the night before.  After about half an hour of searching, there he was, lying in the open, stone dead.  Walking up to the moose I could not help but wonder ho his rack seemed so much bigger in the dying light of the night before.  Strange, I thought.

Setting my rifle down and taking out my knife, I walked up to him and gave him a kick in the stomach to see if he was bloated yet.  To my astonishment, the moose jumped up and now I was toe-to-toe with this huge animal for what seemed to be an eternity.  I just stood frozen in fear of what might happen next.  Then the moose turned and was gone.

After about half an hour of sitting on a windfall, I managed to stop shaking and retrieved my rifle.  How could this happen?  The moose seemed quite dead, but wasn’t.  A check revealed no blood in its bed.  Why?

Searching around for answers, I saw another moose with huge antlers lying down.  I raised my rifle but there was no movement.  I saw the telltale trail of blood and the huge rack.  This was the moose of the night before.  And yes, he was quite dead.

Sitting there in silence, I realized that I actually walked up to a healthy, sleeping bull moose and kicking him in the stomach.

By J.J. Cannon, Thunder Bay, Ontario, from the “Tall Tales of Hunting”

 

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