When Jim Zirkle of Duke Center applied online for a moose permit
in New Brunswick last year, he knew the odds were against his name
being drawn.

But he figured nothing ventured, nothing gained.

When he was officially notified he’d been chosen as one of the
very few lucky nonresidents to receive a license he was
ecstatic.

Shortly after arriving at his destination – River Bend Lodge –
Zirkle went on a scouting trip with Ken and Hal who are affiliated
with the lodge.

At a large beaver dam Jim and Hal discovered a birch tree ripped
apart by a bull moose, the bark in shreds, the branches broken and
dangling. Hal examined the tracks and told Jim it was probably done
by a 3-year-old bull.

Back to the truck and down a series of logging roads until they
came to a T intersection bordering a large clear cut. Here they
found another tree torn to bits.

Hal thought this was another 3-year-old, probably 700 pounds.
They were walking down the hard packed road when Hal’s eyes grew
large.

There, driven deep into the compact road bed was a huge moose
track! Jim kicked at the road and hardly scuffed the surface, how
heavy was this animal to leave a track in it? His hand fit easily
into the print and Hal said the animal had to weigh more than 1,200
pounds. Hal and Jim set up and Ken called. No moose answered, but a
300-pound black bear appeared to check them out.

They returned to the set of oversized tracks they’d seen the
previous evening hoping to catch the big boy chasing a smaller bull
at day break. Nothing showed so they unloaded the four wheeler and
started down a long power line. They hadn’t gone far when Hal
happened to look behind them.

His eyes big, Hal hit the brakes exclaiming; “Oh, my word, look
at that bull! He’s a monster. The trophy you came for!”

Jim spun around to see a huge black bull moose standing
majestically in the power line, his big wide rack sticking far out
past his ears, the palms wide and thick. What a trophy, Jim stared,
his heart pounding, if only the season was open!

The moose watched them for a minute then stalked off the power
line, the thick brush swallowing him up.

Jim couldn’t get the monster bull out of his mind and quickly
decided to hunt him for at least the first two days. They spent
most of the morning constructing a blind and then halfheartedly
scouted a couple more spots. The image of that huge moose continued
to haunt them though throughout the day.

Thursday finally dawned, the first day of the New Brunswick
moose season. The weather conditions were terrible, far too
warm.

Friday dawned warm and cloudy once more, but at least the wind
had dropped. Just before dawn Ken cow called, received an
aggressive answer and then heard a second bull raking and thrashing
the trees with his horns. He notified Jim and Hal on the radio and
they quickly got in their truck, drove to Ken’s position at the
clear-cut edge, parked and the three of them dropped down into the
deep ditch on the far side of the road for cover, hurrying toward
the last area Ken had heard the moose.

After a dash of 200 yards they saw a dark shape moving in the
brush some 450 yards across the clear cut. It started to rain and
Hal told Jim to get set up – he was going to call the bull out into
the open. Hal gave a long, drawn out cow call some 10 seconds in
length. The bull grunted back and came trotting out of the brush
straight at them, his big horns plainly visible in the gray dawn.
There was no doubt, it was the big bull they were after!

When he was 320 yards away by rangefinder, a second bull
suddenly grunted and began noisily thrashing the trees in the back
corner of the clear cut far to their right. The bull stopped and
turned toward his challenger. Hal said, “You’re going to have to
take him now! He’s going after that other bull!”

Jim already had him in the cross hairs, his rifle across the
shooting sticks. Ignoring the pounding of his heart, purposely not
looking at those huge antlers, he took a deep breath, let it half
out and squeezed off a shot.

The 7mm Magnum roared, a bright orange flame stabbing outward in
the dim dawn light. The moose flinched and began walking forward.
Jim held about 15 inches forward of his first shot and fired again.
The bull turned, facing away from them and stopped.

“Come on…” Jim grumbled, “Give me another shot!”

There was no need. The first shots, hitting only three inches
apart, had done their job and the moose fell over with a clearly
heard crash. Both guides were yelling “nice shooting!” and pounding
him on the back. Through hard experience they knew not every hunter
can shoot accurately at that distance, especially at a trophy-sized
animal.

Jim was awe struck when he arrived at his moose. It was huge in
body and horn, the biggest moose ever shot out of River Bend Lodge.
The guides were just as excited as Jim and were asking for copies
of the photos before they were even taken.

The moose was so big the 4-wheeler reared straight up when they
attempted to drag the oversized animal out.

Jim’s back in town now, his freezer and all his relatives’
freezers filled with moose meat.

It was quite a trip. Whenever he shuts his eyes he can still see
that huge black body materializing out of the dark forest, the
wide, ivory antlers taking his breath away one more time.