Story About A Successful Caribou Bow Hunt

Northern Quebec at BOW CAMP
A hunting report from Scott Lupien,CA.

First Hunting Dat - September 7th, 1999
	After two and a half days of travelling and waiting around in Montreal and Shefferville, we finally boarded the small floatplane for a one-hour flight to camp. Our first pleasant surprise was that the four hunters scheduled to share camp with us did not show up, so there would only be three of us with our guide, Gerry Risser. The next pleasant surprise was that we had a log cabin to stay in, rather than the canvas wall tents we had been told to expect. After unpacking and taking a few practice shots with our bows, Gerry told us where to hunt for the remaining couple of hours of daylight. Ralph sat on the lakeshore at a point adjacent to a peninsula in the lake where the caribou tended to
cross. Dad and I sat in the woods along active caribou trails. We had each decided that we would shoot the first caribou we could, then use our second tags to try for a trophy bull. I didn't see anything that evening, but a group of about five caribou came by Dad. Once cow came within a few yards, but it all happened too fast for him to get a shot. The group of hunters that had left on the plane we arrived on had left four spruce grouse. Gerry fried them for us as an appetizer and they were absolutely delicious! We also had backstraps from a bull that our guide had shot the prior week.

September 8th
	We rolled out of bed at 5:30, eager to start our first full day of hunting. I was so excited that I hadn't slept much, but was full of energy none the less. After a hearty breakfast, we headed back to the same spots we had hunted the prior evening. After about an hour, I heard something coming from behind me and moved up the trail to get a better view. A cow and calf ran through the woods, not offering me a shot. They had crossed the lake near Ralph, but he was unable to get a shot before they ran into the woods. Gerry came to get me around 10:00. He had moved Dad to a ridge North of camp and wanted to place me a mile or two to the Southeast. As we neared a lake that he intended to show me, he told me to leave my backpack on a boulder and put my orange vest in a tree to mark the spot. I had no sooner done that when he motioned for me to get into position for a shot -- some caribou were coming our way! I could see movement in the trees. The caribou were passing by us in the woods, so I hurried uphill, ahead of them, until I found a trail that they would cross.
All but one had already crossed, but I drew my bow before the last one, a small bull, came into view. I did a quick mental calculation of yardage and came up with forty yards. When I shot, the arrow sailed high over his back. The distance was only twenty-five yards! This is apparently a very common mistake for first-time caribou bowhunters -- and one that I would not make again (though I was soon to find out that there were plenty of other mistakes to learn from!) Gerry led me into a swamp where these caribou had just come from. He told me to sit tight and that more would pass soon, then he hunted to the North along the lake. For the first hour or two that I sat, I heard several herds of caribou cross the lake. Although they were only about 100 yards away, I could not see them because there were too many trees. After an hour or two of waiting, I heard some movement to my right and then saw two caribou working their way past me. One was an antlerless cow and the other was a small bull. They were in the trees at the edge of the swamp, and would pass me at about fifty yards. I stalked closer so that they would be at thirty yards when they came into a clearing, then drew my bow. I waited, but they fed in the trees and did not come out so I had to let down. Then the cow came into the clearing so I drew again -- and the arrow fell off the string! As I started to let down, I hit the release and BANG -- I dry-fired my bow! The sound was like a rifle shot and the cow spooked immediately. The bull, however, did not. He stood behind some trees and I could just make out the lines of his back and belly between two spruce trees. There were no limbs between the trees, and I had a gap of about five inches to shoot through. After making a quick check for damage to my bow, I drew again and took careful aim between the trees. Whack! The arrow flew perfectly into the caribou's ribcage, and the bull dashed into the forest. I walked to the spot where I had last seen him run and immediately found a good blood trail. Following it was easy, and I fully expected to find him piled up shortly. As I followed, a group of three caribou walked right past me at twenty yards! None were trophy bulls, so I did not try to shoot -- figuring that I already had one on the ground. The trail led uphill, which was not a good sign. There was plenty of sign, however, so I remained hopeful. After a couple of hours and about three hundred yards, I began to have doubts. The sign had all but vanished and I was getting very hungry. I marked the end of the trail with an arrow and logged it into my GPS -- then went back to get my pack where Gerry told me to leave it. I got back to the swamp and realized that in my haste to get the shot at the bull earlier in the morning and then to catch up with Gerry, I hadn't taken the time to note the trail. I didn't know where my backpack was! To make a long story short, I spent two hours searching for it before finally finding it at 3:30PM. I quickly ate my lunch, then went back to search for my caribou. Another hour of searching turned up no new sign, so I finally gave up the search and returned to the swamp. As I sat there, I again heard caribou crossing the lake to my left. The lake itself was a couple of miles wide, but there was a bay about 100 yards long and forty yards wide. In the middle it was only twenty yards wide, and this appeared to be where they were crossing. I climbed a ridge above this narrow spot and immediately spotted another herd on its way! The first one was a cow, then a calf, and then four medium-sized bulls. They came to the narrow point and the cow started to cross. This meant they would come right by me at less than twenty yards! However, for some reason she turned back and led the whole group around the bay instead of crossing it. I went to the bank opposite the point so that if this happened again, I'd have a 25-yard shot across the bay. Not long afterwards I heard a rock tumbling and looked up to see an enormous bull on his way! He was so big that my heart started racing uncontrollably and I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins! Another big bull, though not as big as the first, followed him. When they got about forty yards from me, the smaller bull came out of the trees and headed for the point. The larger one did not appear, so I decided to shoot the smaller one. He took a different trail that put him at about thirty yards, then stepped into a clearing and stood broadside. I was already at full draw and settled the 30-yard pin low in the pocket and released. The arrow bounced off his back! All that remained after he dashed off was a handful of white hair drifting on the breeze. I checked the range with my range finder and it was actually 35 yards. How, then, could I have shot high? I checked my bow and found the culprit -- my kisser button had slid up the string about a quarter of an inch -- enough to throw my arrow way off. I guess the dry-fire had caused the serving string to loosen enough to allow the kisser to slide. Oh well! I fixed it, and settled in for more action. Not long after, a herd of around ten caribou came, but they skirted around the back of a small hill in front of me the same way the huge bull had, so I didn?t get a shot. Darkness was approaching, so I picked up my gear and headed back for camp -- very excited to return in the morning! When I got back, Dad and Ralph were both already there -- and each had scored! Dad shot a small bull on the ridge behind camp and Ralph shot a cow on the lakeshore where he was waiting for them to cross. Dad and Gerry had also each shot a spruce grouse.

September 9th
	I hurried back to the lake, and sat at the end of the bay to intercept any caribou that tried to go around it as the ones did the evening before. The wind was from the south, which meant warmer weather, and there was no rain. For several hours nothing came. Then I heard the clicking sound that caribou make when they walk -- it was behind me. I turned to look and saw a lone cow about fifty yards away. I closed the distance to thirty yards and drew my bow. When it turned broadside, I released -- and the arrow flew way to the left, missing by about twenty feet!
To this day I do not know why. I immediately shot a judo point at a tree trunk and hit it perfectly -- my bow was fine. Perhaps the arrow came off the rest or the string hit my arm. I wish I knew! By 2:00PM I hadn't seen any more caribou and was getting frustrated. I decided to go back to camp to take a bath in the lake, then hunt some more in the evening. After a cold and refreshing bath, I asked Gerry where he thought I should hunt and he suggested the crossing point where Ralph had shot his cow. I went there and sat in the willows along the bank. Not long after I got there, I saw a cow and calf working their way down the opposite bank. If all went according to the normal pattern, they would swim right to me! I stopped watching the rest of the lake and focused on these caribou with my binoculars. About twenty minutes later, I looked out into the main part of the lake and there were three caribou -- a cow, a calf and a bull -- swimming for shore! Although they were headed for a spot 600 yards to the North, I took off at a run to intercept them. They made it to shore about 150 yards in front of me before I could catch them but the cow and calf came barreling past me through the willows and were gone before I could react. I continued to the point and found Gerry with a dead bull caribou. I returned to the point and could no longer see the cow and calf. However, after a short wait, a lone calf appeared on the point. It waded into the lake and started swimming right at me. Although it was no bigger than a small deer, I decided immediately to take it if I could. After all, I was getting pretty frustrated. The calf was on a course that would lead it to shore a bit to my right, so I crawled about ten yards in that direction and crouched behind a low willow. As it approached shore, I drew my bow. It climbed out of the water and stood a mere fifteen yards away -- broadside! I carefully squeezed the released and -- Whack! Perfect shot! It jumped back into the lake and swam a short distance before expiring. The wind was blowing towards the main body of the lake, so I ran back to camp to get Gerry and the boat to retrieve it. He had just finished retrieving his bull, so we jumped in the boat and went for mine, which we found in no time. The arrow was floating nearby as well. That night Gerry fixed fried kidneys from Dad and Ralph's caribou and heart stew from the same. It was excellent! Two Huge Bulls Dad and Ralph saw two huge bulls, but couldn't get a shot. They did, however, discover a better place to sit for an ambush.

September 10th
	Now I was focused on shooting a large bull. I headed for the same spot early in the morning. When almost there, I saw the back of a caribou from about eighty yards. The head was behind a spruce tree. I looked at it through my binoculars and it started walking. Then I could see that it was a cow, followed by a calf. I continued to watch, then saw a big bull following them! I hurried down a parallel caribou trail below them to try and close the distance. When I got about fifty yards from the lead cow, I drew my bow and waited for them to cross a small clearing. The cow and calf came through, but the bull never showed and I did not see him again. I continued to the lake and sat on top of a hill where I had a good view. Two cows and calves came by and one of the calves passed within eight feed of me! I got my camera out in case this happened again. Soon after, I heard the telltale clicking of more caribou hooves. I saw a small bull approaching and got my camera ready. When he stepped out at ten yards, I got a great picture. More caribou came by all day, and I passed a shot at a medium-racked bull. As it started to get dark, I packed up and headed for camp.
As I was walking through the forest, I flushed a spruce grouse. It landed in a tree nearby, and I saw several others on the ground. I took out a judo and nailed one on the ground. Then I shot at the one in the tree with my other judo and missed -- losing my arrow. I shot again with a broadhead and center-punched it -- but it flew away! I looked for it and my arrows, but couldn't find them in the dense forest. However, I returned to the covey and shot three more. One of these also flew away, so I had three grouse to take back to camp. For dinner we had fresh caribou liver. It was the best liver I'e ever eaten!

September 11th
	As I was leaving camp, I spotted two grouse on the ground. I nailed one, and the other flew into a tree. As I approached the first one, it got up and flew away! I ran after it, but lost it in the trees. Then I shot the one in the tree, but lined up the trunk so that I would not lose my arrow. The shot was perfect, and pinned the grouse to the tree. I put it in the cabin, then left again. On my way, I flushed another grouse, which I also pinned to a tree. The weather was very warm: sunny with no wind. As a result, very few caribou were moving. Late in the afternoon I finally had a cow and calf walk by at forty yards. Although I was still looking for a big bull, I could not resist taking a shot. My arrow missed to the left. That was the only opportunity I had all day. Dad had sprained his ankle very badly.
It took him three and a half hours to walk from his stand to the lakeshore to be picked up by boat. His ankle and foot were so swollen that we could hardly get his boot off! It was too painful for him to walk, so he would not be able to go back to their favorite spot and would be confined to the point on the lakeshore where Ralph and I had shot caribou already.

September 12th Before leaving, I decided to try shooting the target without my heavy stabilizer -- to see if it was necessary to carry it around all day. My shot, from twenty yards, was about ten inches to the left! I shot several, and they were all way left. I put the stabilizer back on the bow, but this did not correct my problem. I checked my equipment, and found that my sight pins had been bumped. This also explained why I had missed the cow the day before. I set them back to the left, and my first arrow was dead center in the bull's eye! Confident again, I left camp. With only two more days to hunt, and having seen very little the day before, I decided to shoot anything with antlers -- including cows and small bulls. The weather had gone from still and sunny to pouring rain and a strong north wind. I was very thankful for my Pella rainsuit and Burly boots! I set up near the same bay, but on a low ridge where I had good visibility with the wind in my face. It wasn?t long before I heard hooves clicking -- then saw two antlered cows on their way! I made sure there were no bulls following, then crept into the spruce trees to wait for an ambush. One of the cows worked her way right towards me.

Just before she left the cover of the trees, I drew my bow. She stepped out at about twelve yards and I centered the top pin on her heart -- and released. Perfect shot! She ran several yards and piled up in sight. It was a good thing that I had checked and adjusted my sight pins! Before going to the downed caribou, I returned to my pack. From there I could see that a large herd was on its way. The last two caribou were nice bulls! Oh well, I can?t say I regret shooting two small ones. I?m thrilled to have them and the meat is excellent! Besides, now I have a great excuse to return! More caribou paraded by as I ate my lunch and butchered my caribou. It was only 9:00AM so I had all day to butcher and pack out the meat and I deliberately took my time. I strapped all four quarters and the antlers to my pack frame and put the backstraps, tenderloins, heart, neck and kidneys inside the pack. The load was so heavy, that I used my GPS and compass to make as direct a path as possible to camp -- which would cut a two-mile hike down to 1.2 miles. Surprisingly, the trip was not all that bad! It was 11:30AM when I returned to camp. To my surprise, Dad was already back. He?d shot a nice bull at the point! Unfortunately, he?d hit it too high and had not recovered it. Gerry and I decided to search for it in two hours. At noon, we turned the radio on to contact Ralph. The reply we got was, "I've got a wall-hanger down and I'm just starting to gut him!" Gerry told him to check back on the radio at 3:00PM. We went to look for Dad's bull at 1:00. During the extensive, two-hour search, I shot a grouse and lost another one (and two more arrows), but found no sign of the bull. Continuous heavy rain washed away all sign, so we searched in a grid pattern for the downed bull. At 3:00 we gave up and returned. Ralph informed us that he was not even half way done with his packing work, so Gerry told him to be at the lakeshore at 7:00 (dark). Ralph managed to pack everything except the head, neck and one hindquarter out by dark. The rest would have to wait until morning.

September 13th Gerry took Ralph and I across the lake and we made the two-mile hike to get the rest of his caribou. I caped out the head, and then we carried the rack, cape, neck and last hindquarter down to the shore. It was, indeed, a very nice bull! After Gerry picked us up and returned us to camp, we went to look some more for Dad's bull. I searched for three hours and Ralph searched for two hours, but we didn't find any sign of him. Ralph, at least, got a grouse in the process. In total, that made nine hours that we searched for that bull. Apparently he was not hit that hard. Dad spent ten hours on the lakeshore, but it was a sunny, warm day and no caribou were moving. Ralph and I spent the rest of the afternoon cutting up our meat and putting it in boxes for the flight back to Montreal, where we would have it processed before returning home.

September 14th The floatplane was due to pick us up at 9:00AM, but the weather had turned nasty and we were stuck waiting in camp all day. Finally, it arrived around 2:30 and our trip was over.

A Last Comment Although I didn't get a big bull caribou, the hunt was everything I had hoped it would be. The three of us definitely plan to return, and I'd recommend it to you as well! Gerry Risser was helpful and friendly. His cooking was great, so I would definately recommend you go with his food service -- well worth it! One thing we will do differently is to go a bit earlier so that we can take advantage of the excellent fishing. The fishing season closed the day we arrived, so we didn't get to try it. Gerry also runs a couple of bear camps in the Spring and they sound great. We are going to try the one in Quebec.

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