The Hunt

 Rudolf, as he's affectionately referred to around here, was a late afternoon trophy caribou
 that I stalked about a mile from moose camp back in 1994.

 He was the lead caribou in a herd of about 250 animals, a rare site from anywhere near
 moose camp.

 Oh sure, we usually have a straggler or two come through while we look for Bullwinkle, but
 to have Rudolf bring all of his siblings, and harems with him is quite unusual.

 I spotted the herd on the eastern side of the mountain to our camp's west, totally opposite of
 where I bagged Bullwinkle, and I glassed them for about 20 minutes in order to determine
 their route.

 Once I speculated their direction (the Eskimo in Alaska have a saying: "one never knows for
 sure the way of the wind or the caribou"), I began glassing for the 'Bull Caribou' that I would
 target.

 At first I thought it would be one of five or six lead bulls, all trophies in their own right, but it
 wasn't long before Rudolf appeared from the high brush willows, sporting a gigantic rack and
 two trophy brow tines to boot.

 I was in total awe of the size of this animal - absolutely majestic! His body was the size of a
 mature elk, and his mane and neck were strikingly white, with long strands of thick hair.

 His gait was proud and there was no doubt that he stood as the greatest among other great
 bulls of his herd - a combination of the Nelchina and Nabesna herds of Alaska's Game
 Management Unit 13.
 
 

 The Stalk

 The late afternoon sun was blinding as I continually tried to get a better look at all the animals
 in the herd.

 I remembered thinking that it was a little late in the season for the cow caribou to be
migrating behind that many lead bulls.

 Usually the cows are first getting to the mating fields high in the cool mountain
 canyons and on the vast snow covered glaciers. And they're usually anywhere from a week
 or two ahead of the herd bulls.

 But that wasn't the case this day. On this day, they were being led to the fields as if the herd
 bull had already gathered them for the rut.

 However, the actions normally associated with the rut were not apparent. It was a strange
 scene indeed, but one that I knew I was lucky to be witness to and one I was in position to
 exploit.

 The herd calmly, but steadily continued their grazing down the mountainside, spreading out
 as they neared the willow covered valley floor below.

 I had already began my hike to the north where I anticipated they'd cross the vast expanse
 below me enroute to my side of the mountain.

 It would take me another 15 minutes to get in position, and that would be too late I had
 thought.

 Caribou move extremely fast, even when just calmly grazing, and if I couldn't get to where I
 was headed in 10 minutes or less, then the opportunity would be missed.

 I took off my heavy hunting jacket and backpack, and unstrapped my water bottle, leaving
 them all beside a familiar dead spruce tree on the western side of the mountain from where I
 first spotted the herd.

 I then quickly maintained a low profile and scurried my way toward a canyon to the north of
 me.

 I noticed that the herd had stopped at one point and all seemed to look my way. I froze for
 what seemed to be an eternity, but they were quick to resume their grazing and I my hike to
 a nearby outcropping of rocks that overlooked the valley below.
 

 Positioning for the Shot

 I had only about two minutes left before I would lose the opportunity for a shot at the lead
 bull. I quickly worked my way down the side of the outcropping of rocks and up the other
 side. I spotted a huge spruce tree that had been severed in half by an obvious lightning strike
 sometime in the distant past. I made tracks directly for that huge stump as I thought that's
 where I'd be able to get the best shot, at the closest range, and be able to use the stump as
 a rifle rest to boot.

 Sure enough, it wasn't 30 seconds after making my way to the stump that I caught my next
 glimpse of the herd located just 400 yards away.

 I took deep, silent breaths to calm myself back down and to steady my breathing. I was
panting from the fast track I had taken to reach this point and anyone who hunts knows
that can throw off a shot as easy as anything.

 The herd was now as close as it was going to get - it had turned more to the northeast and I
 had predicted it would head more due east.

 If I was going to bag that trophy caribou, it had to be now I thought. But Rudolf was nowhere
 in sight.

 I saw two or three other huge bulls, and dozens of cows, all within 250 yards of me, but no
 Rudolf.

 Then, a split second later there he was. I had no time to react so it was instinct that took
 over at that point. I had learned my hunting lessons well, and they did not fail me at this
 crucial moment.

 I laid the german post of my scope right on his right ear and I squeezed the trigger of my
 Winchester .338 ever so gently.

 I had a clear shot of his head and I wasn't about to waste any of the meat - my partners and
I have a thing about hunters who shoot off half a shoulder trying to down their game,
it's just not our way!
 

The Pack

Jack Beesler, with his Nodwell, and partner Mark were about a mile away from
where I had put down Rudolf. We have a signaling system that I employed, but
they were too far away to hear me. So, knowing that I could use their help, I
quickly returned to where I had left my jacket, water, and etc., and signaled once
again. Then, I had no choice but to return to the animal and get him opened up
and dressed out. By the time I had completed this part of the field dressing my
partners had spotted a white t-shirt I hung high on a dead spruce tree and were
close by. I climbed a small hill just as I heard them approaching and motioned
them my way. I finished dressing the animal while they looked for a bull moose
that had come in for a close look to see what all the comotion was about, but
we never spotted him. He made a few grunts in challenge, but must've winded
something amiss and stayed low during the field dressing evolution.

We loaded the caribou onto the Nodwell and Jack and Mark hauled it back to
camp. I gathered my things, and was soon to follow. Once back at camp, I took
my time skinning it out and hanging the quarters. It was a sweet hunt indeed, one
that I'll forever remember.

Thanks for the help Jack and Mark, the next trophy belongs to you guys!
 

Last Thought

 I never thought that Rudolf would go into the record books as one of the largest
caribou ever taken, not just in Alaska, but in the world. I knew he was huge from
the moment I saw him, bigger than any other caribou I had ever seen, but I wasn't
and am not a trophy hunter, so, the thought of Rudolf scoring as high as he did never
even entered my mind. In fact, I was considering leaving the antlers behind when
my partner, Jack, insisted that this was a world class animal. I've always trusted Jack
when it counts most, so I hesitated no longer in preserving the antlers and cape of
this marvelous species.

And now, everyday when I pass the majestic mount hanging above my door in
the foyer of my home in Eagle River, Alaska, I sing a little ditty to myself,

"...Rudolf with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight..."

****
 

 For another caribou hunting trip that didn't go quite so well, full of harrowing
experiences and life saving heroics check out 'Rescue Near the Totatlanika'

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