Musk Ox Hunt!
By Jason Dyck
The snow had not yet fallen as our floatplane landed high in the arctic of Victoria Island, Nunavut. We were here to hunt the prehistoric musk ox that few have hunted before. This was an early season hunt and the time when the long silky hair on these ancient animals is clean looking and can make a beautiful trophy. We arrived at the lodge and were greeted by the guides and a welcome sign buried in caribou antler After a hot meal and orientation, we were introduced to our guide Tommy. Tommy has been a guide for musk ox, walrus and polar bear for the past 20 years and calls the arctic home. He took us out behind the lodge and asked us to fire a few rounds with our rifles so he could get a feel for our shooting. When the echoes from our 300 magnums died out our guide calmly said, “We now go find BIG boss”. The boss is the mass of horn on a musk ox head like the antlers on a caribou. The weather in the arctic can change in a heartbeat; today it was ranging from –10º C to +10º C with a lot of wind so we needed to dress in layers. We headed for the boats with anticipation.
We traveled in our 18 foot alumarines along the shorelines looking over a few small herds of musk ox and the occasional Perry’s Caribou from the boat, but none were the monster we were after.
Two or three hours had past when Tommy whispered, “There’s the big herd I’ve been looking for.” Dale, my brother-in-law and hunting partner had won the coin toss and was going to be the first to take a trophy. Our eyes stayed fixed on the herd of 25-30 animals as our guide quietly manoeuvred the boat through the rocky shorelines to dry land.
“Load up and follow me, but stay close, this is the rut and these guys can get real mean!”
Dale walked, crouched down, behind Tommy, and I followed with the camcorder. We moved to within 250 yards and sat down behind the largest piece of cover we could find, a shrub no higher than my knee.
It was amazing to see these prehistoric animals that date back to the ice age, grazing only a short distance from us. After carefully choosing the largest bull in the group, Dale set up his bipod and took aim with his 300 Remington Mag.
”He’s the furthest one to the left,” whispered Tommy, ”big boss”.
I quickly got into position to catch the whole thing on video. I could see the excitement coming from Dale as he was preparing to shoot.
“OK, are you ready Jason, I’m going to take him!” he whispered.
“Ready!” I replied.
Dale waited as the musk ox grazed the tundra, the anticipation was high and finally after what seemed like an eternity, the shot rang out and was quickly swallowed up by the howling winds. The shot hit its target and the bull ran only 50 yards before it fell over like a freight train derailing. The adrenaline pumped as we approached Dale’s trophy.
“Unbelievable!” were the first words from Dales mouth.
“Big boss!” came from Tommy.
The bull had a huge boss on its head with long sweeping horns that faded into ivory color with black tips. The long hair on its back started off blonde and faded into chocolate brown at the ends.
“Beautiful animal” we all agreed.
Minutes later the camp floatplane flew overhead and landed near our boat. The pilot had heard the shot ring out as he was loading up another hunter’s animal that had been taken a short time before and only a mile away. ”Busy morning!” noted the pilot, as three other hunters had already tagged out.
Day two of the trip began with pancakes, eggs and bacon and stories of the previous day hunt. All seven of the hunters in camp had tagged out on trophy size musk ox the day before. I was the only one left without my animal, but that was alright, because today was to be my “anniversary” bull. A year today I was married and my wife was not too happy that I was going to spend my first wedding anniversary with the musk ox. I figured, what better way to remember an anniversary again then to have it associated with this day?
Travelling the shorelines we looked at several herds with great bulls in them that would have, without a doubt, made the books. It was early in the day, so I had time to find that perfect trophy. We rounded a bend in the shoreline to find two big bulls standing on a hillside grazing on their own. We stopped the boat and looked them over to see if it was worth a stalk.
“Big boss” grunted the guide. Unlike the other bulls we had seen that day he was standing up. As we were taking a closer look, Dale noticed more musk ox about a quarter of a mile away.
“Let’s check out that herd first to make sure there’s not a bigger one in that group.” Tommy suggested.
We could tell our guide was getting excited, as this was the most he had spoken so far. As we looked over this new herd, I noticed that the first two big bulls on the hillside had turned into three. There were some real nice bulls in the new group, but that third animal on the hillside just had to be check out. The closer we got to the animal, the larger it appeared, and soon I realized that this was the trophy I was after.
“Good thing we came back” said Dale.
“Big boss” replied Tommy with his binoculars glued to his eyes.
We pulled the boat up on shore and followed Tommy in the direction of the bulls.
Now, Tommy never left the boat without his life jacket on and Dale and I could not figure out why, but we were about to.
We crawled within 200 yards of the bulls, “Where’s the third one?” I asked
“Not sure “ replied Tommy.
My trophy was still there, so I set up my shooting sticks and got ready for the shot as Dale began to video the set-up. My bull was bedded down next to the other one, but there was still no sign of the third one.
“Be ready guys, things can change in a hurry,” warned Tommy, as he was glassing the tundra. Seconds later Tommy yelled out “RUN!!” and headed for the boat and a dead run.
I’m thinking, are you crazy? What for? My trophy musk ox is still here?! But as an experienced guide myself, I know better than to argue with your guide, so if he runs than so do I. Things were happening so fast that we left everything but our rifles and the video camera in Dale’s hand.
“Hurry, hurry get in the boat!”
As we scrambled into the boat I could hear the heavy footsteps of a charging musk ox. We pushed the boat off into the water and looked back to see the bull only feet from the water.