In 1997, when the school was closed for Labor Day, Tom Andrew decided to take me and his son Stip out moose hunting at Devil's Elbow.

As we were driving through the slough, Tom hollered, "Moose!" At first, Stip and I didn't see the bull. We only saw the cow as it was coming out of the water. Then we saw the bull coming out of the water. Stip grabbed his rifle, crawled up to the front of the boat, then he shot three times. He hit the moose on his first shot, but he hit it in the wrong spot. The next shot he missed it completely! It seemed like he didn't even aim but he said he did. He shot once more, but the bull had already escaped into the trees.

We landed the boat where the moose got out of the water, and we went ashore to look for the moose. Soon we found a big blob of blood on a leaf. That was the start of the moose's blood trail. We followed it for a while until it led into the grass and then we lost it. Stip and I were going to go into the next meadow to see if the moose had gone in there, but then Tom told us to follow him. As a result, we didn't find the moose.

A week or two later, Stip told me that Tom might have seen the moose's carcass in the meadow that he and I were about to walk into. If Stip and I had gone in there we might have gotten the moose. But we didn't.