a native hunt, not much of a gut pile when we're done

again i must use caution when talking of these things. a matter of luck.

each village has their own way. some things i was taught are not done the same here in nenana. so i will be talking mainly of my own experience. strict traditional rules from a lifetime of running the river.

whether with my dad or best friend, we never mention the name of the animal we're about to hunt.

as preparations are made to go out it is as if the animal can hear it's name. intellectually i know this is not physically possible. be that as it may, keeping silent has to do with the energy of your soul.

occasionally mom would ask us in code what we were about to do. knowing we're looking for moose, she would carefully ask, if we see a "black" animal, the bear, will we take it? it would be about this time when she would talk of upcoming plans or guests she has coming. that was how she told us what was needed. never talking about the hunt, never vocalizing any names, never saying exactly what she needed or wanted. the power of woman, 'nother blog.

mom would only know where we were going and when we might be back.

to help us get ready she would feed us a big meal. the animals know when you are hungry and will avoid you.

not being as traditional as mom, dad would be eager to get started. we'd talk of where we last saw sign and the type of country we were about to visit. maybe decide which points we would run. guns sighted in, we load our boat with a small lunch, tools, tarps, and containers for choice parts.

dad would matter of factly say exactly what we were going to do. depending on the time of year, a bear may not be wanted. or we'll take bulls of a certain age only. still he'd never call their name. the biggest horns are not desirable nor are some spike bulls. once these decisions are sorted out, we'd cast off and only speak in whispers or sign language after we are there and right in the thick of all the sign reading where everything is moving and generally see what's happening in our country. that's when the hunt really starts.

see a moose on the way? take it in the midst of much rushing around. a hurried but deliberate effort to grab a rifle, pick spot to drop animal, aim, and..

time seems to slow during this quiet rush. slow motion excitement. it's like hunter and hunted know the inevitability of the moment.

only a head shot is good, one bullet per customer. don't want to waste meat or ruin good parts. still moving and not going to get up? never shoot again, unless it's trying to stand. stay away from the legs and cut the jugular to bleed it out. the faster it drains and cools, the better taste. good time to stop right there and give a prayer of thanks.

should not start dressing it out till muscles stop and life is gone. make fire if necessary to wait. muscle should not quiver when cut, life is still present. makes the meat tough to rush this.

most of the time there is much more work in hunting a moose. on those river points where there are fresh tracks going in but nothing coming out, we would "run" the point. dad drops me off in the elbow of the bend, young legs. he then returns to the point, stops across the river where he can watch both beaches of the point. soon as i hear the motor stop, i walk into the brush and find it. occasionally drop it right there but most of the time it will come out from all the commotion. maybe even run deeper into the point to another lake or river bend. i follow to see what's happening then walk out, never chase. knowing the country we make our plan, reset then go get it.

once the moose is down the work really starts. and the talking and stories can swing into full speed. willows are laid out along the kill to keep everything clean. never use an axe or saw if there are teething children at home, to avoid splinters and other danger. everything that needs to be done can be accomplished with just a sharp knife and stone.

if you know where to cut each joint, rib, or connection you'd see that the moose is perfectly designed to come apart. even a small pocket knife can do this. a fancy hunting knife says more about the hunter than the job at hand. experienced hunters can dress out a kill in about 20-30 minutes. the gut pile is stretched out more or less as it's being removed. the lace or fat from around the stomach and intestines is removed in as large a piece as possible and hung to dry on surrounding willows or grass, whatever is handy and clean. good to chew while packing meat, loading the boat. the heart is split, opened up and laid out to drain. a dish pan is good for liver and kidneys since they will take a long time to drain.

favored parts saved, the intestine is stretched out and cut into manageable lengths. brought to the river, cleaned and turned. mom will later clean again, soak and stuff this to bake. makes a wonderful layer of moose fat around your scraps and ground meat. the head remains with it's horns and placed upside down so the tonge is easy to remove.

most families have their own preferences and ways. but in the end it's all the same. very little left for the camp robbers and magpies who have been sitting and waiting close by all along.

once our catch is home and hung to age. then we rest. tomorrow we skin, remove the tenderloin, trim head and neck if needed, sometimes add smoke. take care of our luck. mom's first breakfast was usually eggs, fried liver and onions, diced potato. oh the joy!

for those unfamiliar with this activity, i don't mean to make you squirm with blood and guts.

you don't like it? i don't care. this is our food fresh out of the garden and it was a garden of Eden till they paved Paradise to put up a parking lot.

great care is taken to do everything right on a hunt.

there are no trophy hunters here. taking a life is not something to brag about, to hang on your wall. native people relive the hunt through stories with young folk hanging on to each problem wind movement, cracked stick, and mosquito bite. that's how we "brag". a native man never says how good a hunter he is. by sharing his luck he lets other people talk big about him.

i hope I've done right here by the moose. guess I'll know next fall when i go out.

adapting this technology to my upbringing and beliefs is a steep learning curve for me and I'm a bit apprehensive.

maybe now outside hunters will care more for their meat by reading this. i don't like to see horns on top of a boat load of butchered, souring meat. makes me sad and mad.