[nast70]

I was 16 I think. Went Elk and Moose hunting with my dad and his friend to the area we still hunt today.
There was a brand new seismic line put in during the previous winter. I was walking this line, bored out of my skull and quite disappointed. Haven't seen anything all week, yet dad and Jim are telling stories each night about all the critters they have seen.
Then on this seismic line, 150yds ahead, a perfect young bull moose walks out broadside. I panicked, dropped to the ground. Peeked up over the grass and glassed it. Its a bull! A take my backpack off, and chamber a round in my moms 270 i was borrowing. Get up on one knee, and shoot! Nothing. Miss. I gather myself, the moose doesn't have a care in the world. Take another shot, again a miss. Frustrated, i crawl over to the timber windrow and find a rest. Take another shot, miss again. In total had 7 cracks at him before he finally moved off.
Super frustrated at myself. I went back to camp and waited for dad. They showed up and I told them what happened. We figure we better go have a look and see if there was any sign. Spent the next couple hours poking around and found nothing. Back at camp dad asks me to shoot a target, 50yds. Miss. WTF! He takes the rifle and shoots, miss. What the H! He walks up to 25yds, miss. Now he's getting mad. He looks at the gun and we see the problem. One of the scope mounts is off! I was pretty much shooting into the dirt.
Now, I always take at least one practice shot to make sure the gun is sighted in. Funny thing was that was my first trip and first crack and a bull moose. Jim had been going out with dad for 10yrs before that and had never seen one, let alone get a crack at one.
I still walk that line and remember that morning, hoping another bull walks out in front of me.