- Joined
- Jan 7, 2003
- Messages
- 1,131
This saturday I was hunting moose with my relativs. It was a beautiful authums day with high and clear skyes. As it went, I was posting far away from where things was heated, but I had walked some kilometers to a nice swamp high up on a mountain and saw a lot af traces of moose. Since I saw a bear the week before that also exited me a bit as bears puts an extra spice on the hunting. I was klimbed up a little tower to get good sight and sat there wittling a little with my cv sodbuster jr.
In the afternoon my cousin used the huntingradio to tell me he needed help transporting a moosecalf to the road he had shot for a standing bark from his dog. We meet up in the afternoon well before dark. He told me the moose was on the other side a stride creek. Three of us was supposed to bring it over the creek and be meet by more folks and our moose transport wehicle. The cold water was well obove the knees and We got rather wet. With the calf I used my sodbuster opening the nose for a pulling stick. As we was in a hurry I just put the knife in my cargopocket on the throusers leg. As we went back it was a little difficult to pull the moosecalf of aprox 90 kilos over the creek and we got even wetter than before. When back in the village we took the calf to our slaughterhouse and skinned it and sawed it in to. I then used my handmade fixedblade.
When I came home I was cold and hungry and hanged my extemly wet huntingthrousers beside the stove in my cabin, ate and went to sleep. The following morning waking up by the alarmclock at 4.30 I realised I had forgoten about the bloody sodbuster in my wet throusers. Picking it out of the pocket it had the slightest brown rust after the shiny edge but the darkbrown patina was unaffekted and so was the pivotarea. Took my stone to the forest the next day and sharpend the edge to shiny again and steared some instant cofee with it and cut and ate some of the dryed wildboar sossage my sister brought for me from her trip to Korsika, Italy.
Sitting the morgningsun in an opening in the forest between a little lake and a swamp. A new day takes its beginning and my cv sodbuster has prooved for me its a tool not needing to be cared for more than nessisarry.
Bosse
In the afternoon my cousin used the huntingradio to tell me he needed help transporting a moosecalf to the road he had shot for a standing bark from his dog. We meet up in the afternoon well before dark. He told me the moose was on the other side a stride creek. Three of us was supposed to bring it over the creek and be meet by more folks and our moose transport wehicle. The cold water was well obove the knees and We got rather wet. With the calf I used my sodbuster opening the nose for a pulling stick. As we was in a hurry I just put the knife in my cargopocket on the throusers leg. As we went back it was a little difficult to pull the moosecalf of aprox 90 kilos over the creek and we got even wetter than before. When back in the village we took the calf to our slaughterhouse and skinned it and sawed it in to. I then used my handmade fixedblade.
When I came home I was cold and hungry and hanged my extemly wet huntingthrousers beside the stove in my cabin, ate and went to sleep. The following morning waking up by the alarmclock at 4.30 I realised I had forgoten about the bloody sodbuster in my wet throusers. Picking it out of the pocket it had the slightest brown rust after the shiny edge but the darkbrown patina was unaffekted and so was the pivotarea. Took my stone to the forest the next day and sharpend the edge to shiny again and steared some instant cofee with it and cut and ate some of the dryed wildboar sossage my sister brought for me from her trip to Korsika, Italy.
Sitting the morgningsun in an opening in the forest between a little lake and a swamp. A new day takes its beginning and my cv sodbuster has prooved for me its a tool not needing to be cared for more than nessisarry.
Bosse
