down those cut lines, over trees, and across creeks and bogs took its toll on us. My cameraman told me 'Wayne, I'm really taking a beating on this machine.' His fingers were raw. All of the riding was getting to everybody. I had a meeting with Phil and told him to take us back to where we had seen a lot of sign and hunted the first morning.     "At daylight the next morning we rode out to the edge of a willow-choked valley and stopped. Phil started imitating the grunt of a bull and we could barely hear a bull's reply. One thing I learned on that hunt is you have to be really quiet to hear a bull. Even though a moose will weigh up to 1800 pounds, when they call it's so soft you can hardly hear it. Phil grunted again and the bull answered him again.     "Since the bull wasn't coming to us, we decided that Derek and I would sneak down toward him while calling to imitate a bull coming to his challenge. We made so much noise going through the willows that he figured something was wrong. We could only close the gap to 70 yards before this 55-inch wide bull turned and ran. We didn't have anything to lose, so I decided to follow the bull. As I was rounding a thicket, Phil started whistling and frantically pointing behind me. This six-year-old burn had a lot of willows growing in it, so I got up on a stump to see over them. Immediately I saw a small set of antlers above the brush coming toward me, and he was hot to trot. It already had been agreed that I would take the first moose to provide us with camp meat. By that time we were getting worn out from the heat. He walked up to about 40 yards and presented me with a broadside shot. I drew and shot six inches over his back. I grunted at him several times and he came straight at us. The willows were waving around, but we couldn't see him. I thought he had smelled us and had run off, because nothing was happening. I walked around a clump of brush, and Phil started whistling again. I looked behind me and saw the bull coming again. I shot at him three more times. Each time I shot my arrow would hit an unseen branch and dive into the dirt. After all that shooting the moose must have thought there were some large mosquitoes in the areas and decided to take off."     By this time, the usually cool-headed archer had put enough misdirected missiles into the air to put NORAD on alert. Everyone's nerves were on edge, to say the least. "Phil walked over to us and gave me a look I will never forget," Carlton said, "and walked off to collect his thoughts. About 15 minutes later I heard a loud popping and snapping sound, like someone chopping trees. As I walked toward the sound I could see Phil beating the stew out of a tree and the brush around him with a big stick. I thought he was taking out his frustrations, but he later told me that he was doing that to entice a moose to answer him. He motioned for me to be quiet and listen. Sure enough, when Phil stopped banging on that tree we could hear the same sound coming from a thick stand of timber about 400 yards away.     " Phil and I got together and he whispered to me 'That moose is hot, and if you think you've got your act together, I think we can call him in.' " The trio then quietly worked their way toward the sound of crashing branches. Keeping the wind in their favor they positioned themselves in a clearcut 125 yards from the thicket where the bull was sparring. Finding only a four-foot-tall pine tree for cover, Carlton crouched down out of view.     "When everyone was set, I heard Phil call softly," Carlton said. "The moose could hear Phil's grunting better than I, because as soon as he called I looked up and could see the top of a huge set of antlers turning as the bull looked in our direction. It was the biggest thing I had ever seen. Immediately upon Phil's call, the moose turned and started walking straight toward us—like he was on a string. As he walked his head would swing from side to side. The closer he got the bigger he got. He then stopped about 80 yards out. Phil called again faintly, and the moose came on. I thought he was going to walk straight over me, but as luck would have it he turned at 25 yards and angled to my left." The brush was so thick Carlton couldn't get a shot. He saw a clearing the bull would have to walk through, and when the bull's nose cleared the brush, Carlton drew his 86-pound bow. "He just stopped and stood there without giving me a shot,"Carlton said with frustration. "Finally I couldn't hold the bow any longer and had to let it down. As I let down I heard Phil grunt again very softly. That was all it took to get the bull moving again." The bull stepped into another opening 25 yards away and Carlton stood and drew his High Country Trophy Hunter bow all in one motion. Carlton mentally coached himself, nose to string, don't pluck the string, don't grip the bow, just let it shoot.

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