It's a little late for me to be writing about this, since I did it October 13, but at least I'm putting in an effort now, right? After sucking down a very large thermos of coffee, we set out at 7:30 am (I know, that's really not all that bad) to Solon, Maine. Our destination: Griswolds General Store. Griswolds is one of Maine's registered stations to check in and tag moose (
for more moose hunt information click this link). After pulling into the parking lot of the store, we had no idea where to go. We lingered around for a few minutes, soon to be spotted by the wildlife biologist at the station. "You guys missed 2 already," he told us. It was 8:15am, we were baffled. How many people could get their moose to the station so fast when the sun had just risen to hunt less than two hours ago? Before we could even start small talk, a trailer came in, a small bull moose (small as in probably 400 pounds) in tow. The biologist took the hunters inside to fill out hunting information and receive his tag, and three of us students were left to collect biological data. We had to measure maximum spread (width in a straight line from one point on the antler to another), beam length (length from where the antler starts to the tip), points on antler (had to be longer than wide), and whether the antler was
palmate or
cervicorn. Aside from the rack, we also had to pull one tooth (root and all!), and count tick density in 4 areas in 10cm. samples. I decided to start with the tooth, since I wanted to get it over with. I shoved my hands in his mouth, only to find shattered teeth. This moose had obviously been shot in the mouth.
After some struggling, the biologist emerged. "You don't have to pull teeth on this one" he told me, "it's a young one". He proceeded to show us, through shattered teeth, how to tell between baby teeth and adult teeth. After this young one, I was ready to try an adult moose. After a half hour passed, another moose came in. This bull was larger: he was definitely not a youngster. Stepping out of the truck was a familiar face, one of my basketball referees (weird, I know), and his friend. The rack on their moose was all broken and busted, as was the jaw. The men laughed; they didn't care about what the face looked like. As long as the moose was in the back of their truck, gutted, and ready for the butcher, they didn't care how pretty it looked. I climbed in the back of their truck, knife and pliers in my hands. I jammed the knife down into the gums, my gums aching from the imaginary knife stabbing into them. With the broken jaw swaying around, I couldn't apply the pressure I wanted on the jaw. I sawed at the tooth with all my might, and finally, it budged. After
some help, I tore the tooth out of the moose's mouth. I did my deed. One tooth and a big gum-ache for myself, I was done with the teeth. Luckily, the other two people in my group didn't necessarily love ticks. I jumped all over the tick counts. I would gladly deal with an occasional tick trying to hitch a ride on my hand rather than a constant toothache all day. Between 8:15am and 7pm, we saw 9 moose, and had 11 total for the day. One man also brought in a black bear, which his friend had shot closeby to where he shot his moose. Our largest moose weighed over 700 pounds and had a spread of over 120 centimeters. He was no monster (one in Maine was documented over 1000 pounds), but he was exciting for us. We all definitely had an awesome time, and I hope that I have another opportunity to work at a moose check in station, just maybe not doing the teeth?
It's a little late for me to be writing about this, since I did it October 13, but at least I'm putting in an effort now, right? After sucking down a very large thermos of coffee, we set out at 7:30 am (I know, that's really not all that bad) to Solon, Maine. Our destination: Griswolds General Store. Griswolds is one of Maine's registered stations to check in and tag moose (for more moose hunt information click this link). After pulling into the parking lot of the store, we had no idea where to go. We lingered around for a few minutes, soon to be spotted by the wildlife biologist at the station. "You guys missed 2 already," he told us. It was 8:15am, we were baffled. How many people could get their moose to the station so fast when the sun had just risen to hunt less than two hours ago? Before we could even start small talk, a trailer came in, a small bull moose (small as in probably 400 pounds) in tow. The biologist took the hunters inside to fill out hunting information and receive his tag, and three of us students were left to collect biological data. We had to measure maximum spread (width in a straight line from one point on the antler to another), beam length (length from where the antler starts to the tip), points on antler (had to be longer than wide), and whether the antler was palmate or cervicorn. Aside from the rack, we also had to pull one tooth (root and all!), and count tick density in 4 areas in 10cm. samples. I decided to start with the tooth, since I wanted to get it over with. I shoved my hands in his mouth, only to find shattered teeth. This moose had obviously been shot in the mouth.
After some struggling, the biologist emerged. "You don't have to pull teeth on this one" he told me, "it's a young one". He proceeded to show us, through shattered teeth, how to tell between baby teeth and adult teeth. After this young one, I was ready to try an adult moose. After a half hour passed, another moose came in. This bull was larger: he was definitely not a youngster. Stepping out of the truck was a familiar face, one of my basketball referees (weird, I know), and his friend. The rack on their moose was all broken and busted, as was the jaw. The men laughed; they didn't care about what the face looked like. As long as the moose was in the back of their truck, gutted, and ready for the butcher, they didn't care how pretty it looked. I climbed in the back of their truck, knife and pliers in my hands. I jammed the knife down into the gums, my gums aching from the imaginary knife stabbing into them. With the broken jaw swaying around, I couldn't apply the pressure I wanted on the jaw. I sawed at the tooth with all my might, and finally, it budged. After
some help, I tore the tooth out of the moose's mouth. I did my deed. One tooth and a big gum-ache for myself, I was done with the teeth. Luckily, the other two people in my group didn't necessarily love ticks. I jumped all over the tick counts. I would gladly deal with an occasional tick trying to hitch a ride on my hand rather than a constant toothache all day. Between 8:15am and 7pm, we saw 9 moose, and had 11 total for the day. One man also brought in a black bear, which his friend had shot closeby to where he shot his moose. Our largest moose weighed over 700 pounds and had a spread of over 120 centimeters. He was no monster (one in Maine was documented over 1000 pounds), but he was exciting for us. We all definitely had an awesome time, and I hope that I have another opportunity to work at a moose check in station, just maybe not doing the teeth? 
No comments:
Post a Comment