SMITTEN

I went moose hunting again yesterday afternoon.  In my area of southeast Alaska, we have a month and are allowed one bull.  So far I had seen five bulls but no shooters.  As I approached the willow covered muskeg I had chosen to hunt I saw a cow watching me from about three hundred yards away.  She continued to watch with mild curiosity as I settled under a spruce tree, levered a round in my Winchester Model 71 and got ready to start calling.  I sat still for about fifteen minutes to let things settle down.  The cow lost interest and moved on grazing on the willow tips.
I started calling, doing my best to mimic a lovesick cow in season.  After the second series of calls, a bull stepped out of the woods on the other side of the clearing, paddles flashing in the late afternoon sun.  He was looking around trying to locate me or rather the cow he thought I was, so I did another series of calls.  Immediately he zeroed in on me, looking right at me.  At over three hundred yards away I couldn't tell if he was legal and he couldn't see me, as I was all decked out in my cammies.
Slowly I picked up my binoculars and watched him as he came around the perimeter of the clearing moving obliquely in my direction.  When he reached a point closest to me, which put him about seventy-five yards away, he turned and headed across the clearing straight toward me, never once taking his eyes of me.  By now I could tell that he wasn't a legal bull, so I just sat still and watched him come.
At about one hundred feet we made eye contact and he kept right on walking casually toward me making low grunting sounds.  Almost a cooing sound.  He was sweet-talking me.  At fifty feet I began to get a little nervous.  At twenty feet I started talking to him.  "That's far enough.  You don't want to come any closer."  I began waving my hands and continued to talk to him.  "Don't make me have to shoot you!"  He just kept coming ignoring my now frantic waving.  I tried not to be too demonstrative for fear of running my hunt, but the situation was now serious.
At less than ten feet he stuck his head under the spruce bough where I sat and stopped.  He just stood there making low grunting sounds.  Sweet talking me.  This bull was smitten!  He was in love.  I could have stood up and in two steps kissed him on the nose.  I know he must have thought I was the ugliest cow he had ever seen, but it didn't seem to matter.  He wasn't going to take no for an answer.
I started yelling at him and waving my rifle in his face.  This didn't faze him.  I was the love of his life and he wasn't going to give me up.  He decided on a different approach.  Slowly he circled around under my spruce tree and came up behind me.  I intensified my yelling and waving.  At this, he very reluctantly began to move away.  I know he was thinking "I'll let her calm down a little.  I know she'll come around."
As he stood watching me from about thirty feet away I quickly gathered up my stuff and began to walk away.  The bull followed me for a few feet then stopped and watched me leave, heartbroken.

Marshall Kimbrough-Warren