Tuscarora Lodge & Canoe Outfitters

It is moose hunting season on the Gunflint Trail. This fall the DNR has only issued permits for the bulls—in theory there are plenty of bulls around for the mating season… I’m always glad when the moose season is over, and I don’t have to risk the scene in the Buck’s parking lot where people bring their moose to get tagged—which might remind you of the horsehead scene in the Godfather movies.

This year we have some moose hunter guests—a couple of Charlies and their friend Dan—they’ve secured 3 permits. It’s a “once in a life time “ deal for these guys—a person is only eligible for MN Moose permit once, whether or not you shoot a moose.
Personally I don’t have a moral problem with hunting. If I were to decide to go vegetarian, I should be first taking a hard look at my chicken sandwich—I like to buy the happy chickens, but I don’t always do that. I’ll wager the moose that Dan and the Charlies shot in the BWCA was a lot happier than my chickens.
I’m all for the deer hunters thinning out the herd of “invasive species” deer rodents around here…
So why do my eyes get sad whenever I talk to the Charlies about the moose? (I know they sense it, not by my words—because their stories become much softer.)
Well first off, I just like the huge animals. (A friend of mine would suggest that I find them appealing only because they are becoming rarer. Maybe, but I don’t think so. Once I hiked Isle Royale, and was pretty excited by the lucky moose sighting right off of the ferry—and then quit counting 2 hours later after spotting 28 more. Just because the population was booming at that time in that place didn’t seem to hinder their charm. The underdog status always gets to me. They are like immense nearsighted dairy cattle, and it seems like an unfair fight. Charlie told me that all you do is walk up and shoot them, one bullet, and they don’t even run, they just drop in their tracks. The trick is finding them—and hauling them out.
These men also talked about the decline of the moose population, how the DNR seems to be a little stumped, how they have all these vials and blood samples they are supposed to take….how they hope that the moose stick around. They convince me that hunting is secondary to their time in the woods—and how they had to portage and hike 20 miles with 400 pounds of moose meat (they happen to be butchers by trade, so they didn’t bring out any bones).
When I see the bulls on the Gunflint Trail these days, I give them the telekinetic message—“Run for the Hills—Run for your Life!” I’ll always have a tender spot for their big heavy Bullwinkle goofy presence. I’m worried about them, our own little polar bear species down here– and I don’t like to see them disappear, for any reason.
I like the Charlies, but I’ll be glad when moose hunting season is over.

It is moose hunting season on the Gunflint Trail. This fall the DNR has only issued permits for the bulls—in theory there are plenty of bulls around for mating… I’m always glad when the moose season is over, and I don’t have to risk the scene in the Buck’s parking lot where people bring their moose to get tagged—which reminds me of the horsehead scene in the Godfather movies.

This year we have some moose hunter guests—a couple of Charlies and their friend Dan—they’ve secured 3 permits. It’s a “once in a life time “ deal for these guys—a person is only eligible for MN Moose permit once, whether or not you shoot a moose.
Personally I don’t have a moral problem with hunting. If I were to decide to go vegetarian, I should be first taking a hard look at my chicken sandwich—I like to buy the happy chickens, but I don’t always do that. I’ll wager the moose that Dan and the Charlies shot in the BWCA was a lot happier than my chickens. (He also had apparently lived a very long time).
I’m all for the deer hunters thinning out the herd of “invasive species” deer rodents around here…
So why do my eyes get sad whenever I talk to the Charlies about the moose? (I know they sense it, not by my words—because their stories become much softer.)
Well first off, I just like the huge animals. A friend of mine might suggest that I find them appealing only because they are becoming rarer. Maybe, but I don’t think so. Once I hiked Isle Royale, and was pretty excited by the lucky moose sighting right off of the ferry—and then quit counting 2 hours later after spotting 28 more. Just because the population was booming at that time in that place didn’t seem to hinder their charm.

However, the underdog status always gets to me. They are like immense nearsighted dairy cattle, and it seems like an unfair fight. Charlie told me that all you do is walk up and shoot them, one bullet, and they don’t even run, they just drop in their tracks. The trick is finding them in the first place—and hauling them out.
These men also talked about the decline of the moose population, how the DNR seems to be a little stumped, how hunters take blood samples to help with the mystery….how they hope that the moose stick around. They convince me that hunting is secondary to their time in the woods—and how they had to portage and hike 20 miles with 400 pounds of moose meat (they happen to be butchers by trade, so they didn’t bring out any bones).
When I see the bulls on the Gunflint Trail these days, I give them the telekinetic message—“Run for the Hills—Run for your Life!”
I’ll always have a tender spot for their big heavy Bullwinkle goofy presence. I’m worried about them, our own little polar bear species down here– and I don’t like to see them disappear, for any reason.
I like the Charlies, but I’ll still be glad when moose hunting season is over.

Check out participant number 309
National Moose Day Petition
Susan was my roommate in college, and she really really doesn’t like the moose heads in the parking lot!

Last week we took a little canoe trip. Only 2 nights, but we paddled a long long way, and that is my favorite way to keep warm on a fall trip. We left from our dock, which I also like because it reminds me that we have access to a really big backyard. Really big.
We camped on the south shore of Little Sag, and then took a day trip down to through Makwa, Pan, through the Kawishiwi River area (haven’t been there in 20 years…glad to see that it is still wonderful) and up through Adams, Boulder, and back through Makwa. It was a full scenery day The forecast called for 20% chance of rain 100% of the time which turned out to be an accurate prediction, because it seemed to rain about 12 minutes out of every hour. Perfect, because we couldn’t have been in the tent yard cleaning tents even if we had wanted to be.
We took the Bell Northshore canoe—the one my friend Kelly Dupre calls “the party barge”, which is sort of accurate and sort of misleading because really it is sleek and fast, 55 pounds only 19 feet long. We completed our marathon daytrip and arrived back at our campsite just at total nightfall—on the last portage we didn’t actually need a headlamp until the very end. Ideal timing, if you’ve ever taken a fall trip with Jim Wiinanen . However, some people I know think that we were pushing the daylight envelope just a little too far.
The next day we paddled home through my favorite Peter Lake area—the only recovering forest part of our trip-those (above-the-tree line) alpine lakes touched deepest by the Cavity Fire in 2007. I can’t quite get over how cool it is up there. It isn’t just me, others throughout the summer have loved it in there too. Something magical about the tundra feel to that area.. We saw a moose on the hill, like a big horned ship on a mountainside, and if you look very closely you can see the cow down below him.
When I visited French, Peter, and Virgin in 2007 (a full year after the Cavity Fire) these rocky portages looked as if the vegetation may not recover. Apparently 2007 had an impressive growing season—especially the poplar trees took off. Even if the parent poplar trees burn, fires stimulate production of suckers from the massive shallow root systems of these trees. Poplar trees (along with birch) seed readily, even the fallen branches can sucker into new trees. Once Shelby got an ominous voice as she looked at the rapid regrowth and said: “Mom, we couldn’t stop those Ppoplars if we wanted to.” She’s probably right—Look at this hearty guy, and you can see just how determined they are.

I f you look closely at these photos, you can see that they are taken of the same hill—one in 2007 (1 year after the Cavity Fire) and one in 2008. It was just a lucky coincidence that I took them on the same spot!!! But they do illustrate what is happening in there—and it certainly won’t be a group of tundra lakes for long. I’m loving it while it lasts! There’s something about that Peter Lake.