destination adventure alaska’s asian reindeer

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destination&adventure 66 American Hunter August 2009 October 29, 2008 3:15 a.m. Typical. My ride will be here in 20 minutes and I’ve just finished pack- ing. We’re headed to one of the greatest hunting destinations in the world: Alaska! We’ll be hunting the westernmost part of the state, the stormy Aleutian Island chain that divides the Pacific Ocean and the Bering Sea. We’ll literally be hunting between two worlds—halfway between Asia and continental North America. Two years ago, a fellow named George Weaver approached me at the Safari Club International (SCI) conven- tion and asked if I’d be interested in hunting reindeer in Alaska. Reindeer? I knew Asian reindeer were released in parts of Alaska about 80 years ago, but I didn’t realize they could be hunted anywhere other than Greenland and Europe. ey’re interest- ing animals that grow larger antlers in relation to their body size than all other big game. It didn’t take me long to sign on for the adventure. 9:25 p.m. Anchorage is a tremendous city. I’d move here in a second if I thought I was worthy of the challenge. e hunters are some of the best and toughest in the world. I’m staying tonight at the Captain Cook Hotel. Nice place. Alaska’s Asian Reindeer October 30, 2008 8 a.m. We’re at the Ace Cargo hanger about to take a Beechcraft 19 aircraft out to the islands we’ll hunt. We’ll stop once for fuel in Dutch Harbor, the town made famous by Discovery Channel’s “Deadliest Catch.” From there we’ll fly off into the foggy divide between ocean and sea, headed for the place where East meets West. ey call the Aleutian Island chain the “Ring of Fire,” a smoking chain of islands thrust up by volcanic forces that often erupt, send- ing soot and ash into the stratosphere. ey just told me that all airplanes were grounded for several days a couple months ago because of an eruption. Soot was causing airplane engines to flame out. anks for the way-too-much information. Maybe I’d walk away from this adventure if I didn’t know that somewhere out there, 1,000 miles from the tarmac, live some of the most spectacular antlered animals nature has ever produced. 2:30 p.m. ere is fog below us, but we see occasional patches of storm-tossed ocean and the odd island. ey are strange sights. e fog makes the islands look like they belong in a “Jurassic Park” movie. e Ace Cargo guys are darn good pilots. We’re side- slipping between sucker layers of clouds. e pilot says the low Amid Alaska’s Aleutian Islands’ ash-belching vol- canoes and foggy seas exists a population of animals so unspoiled, so un-hunted by non-native Aleuts that the Boone and Crockett Club only recently decided how to classify them. e author’s journal entries document a rare hunt for these “Asian reindeer,” as well as the effects of eating 10 sea urchins in one night. By Jim Shockey Photos: Author

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Page 1: destination adventure Alaska’s Asian Reindeer

destination&adventure

66 American Hunter ■  August 2009

October 29, 2008

3:15 a.m. Typical. My ride will be here in

20 minutes and I’ve just finished pack-ing. We’re headed to one of the greatest hunting destinations in the world: Alaska! We’ll be hunting the westernmost part of the state, the stormy Aleutian Island chain that divides the Pacific Ocean and the Bering Sea. We’ll literally be hunting between two worlds—halfway between Asia and continental North America.

Two years ago, a fellow named George Weaver approached me at the Safari Club International (SCI) conven-tion and asked if I’d be interested in hunting reindeer in Alaska. Reindeer? I knew Asian reindeer were released in parts of Alaska about 80 years ago, but I didn’t realize they could be hunted anywhere other than Greenland and Europe. They’re interest-ing animals that grow larger antlers in relation to their body size than all other big game. It didn’t take me long to sign on for the adventure.

9:25 p.m. Anchorage is a tremendous city. I’d move here in a second if I thought I

was worthy of the challenge. The hunters are some of the best and toughest in the world. I’m staying tonight at the Captain Cook Hotel. Nice place.

Alaska’sAsian

ReindeerOctober 30, 2008

8 a.m.We’re at the Ace Cargo hanger about to take a

Beechcraft 19 aircraft out to the islands we’ll hunt. We’ll stop once for fuel in Dutch Harbor, the town made famous by Discovery Channel’s “Deadliest Catch.” From there we’ll fly off into the foggy divide between ocean and sea, headed for the place where East meets West. They call the Aleutian Island chain the “Ring of Fire,” a smoking chain of islands thrust up by volcanic forces that often erupt, send-ing soot and ash into the stratosphere. They just told me that all airplanes were grounded for several days a couple months ago because of an eruption. Soot was causing airplane engines to flame out. Thanks for the way-too-much information. Maybe I’d walk away from

this adventure if I didn’t know that somewhere out there, 1,000 miles from the tarmac, live some of the most spectacular antlered animals nature has ever produced.

2:30 p.m. There is fog below us, but we see occasional patches of storm-tossed

ocean and the odd island. They are strange sights. The fog makes the islands look like they belong in a “Jurassic Park” movie. The Ace Cargo guys are darn good pilots. We’re side-slipping between sucker layers of clouds. The pilot says the low

Amid Alaska’s Aleutian Islands’ ash-belching vol-canoes and foggy seas exists a population of animals so unspoiled, so un-hunted by non-native Aleuts that the Boone and Crockett Club only recently decided how to classify them. The author’s journal entries document a rare hunt for these “Asian reindeer,” as well as the effects of eating 10 sea urchins in one night. By Jim Shockey

Phot

os: A

utho

r

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American Hunter ■  August 2009 67

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68 American Hunter ■  August 2009

visibility clouds bank up against these islands, but once you bust through, it’s clear sailing—usually. I’ll have to trust him because I can’t see 10 feet from the window in this airplane. This is definitely a white-knuckle flight, as we’re floating down, bumping through the gauze.

2:45 p.m. As soon as I could see the

island, we were down safe and sound. That quick. The wind has to be gusting near 30 knots.

3 p.m. Forbidding? Harshly beautiful? Violently

beautiful? I’m trying to find the words to describe what I’m seeing. There are tons of sea ducks. A wave of yellow grass stretches as far as I can see up the steep slope of the mountain beside us, but there are no trees. Is it a volcano? I can’t see the top for the clouds. I must remember not to ask. There’s an odd black soil underfoot. Volcanic ash? I must remember not to ask.

October 31, 2008

6 a.m. I have estimated the time, as I don’t know the

hour or even what time zone we’re in. I’m guessing we’re at least a couple zones west of Pacific Standard Time. We eat a big breakfast. The place is nice, but I can’t wait for the hunting part to start.

7 a.m. The wind is blowing hard, but it’s clear at

elevation, which provides a magnificent sunrise. We load the quads and Polaris Ranger and we’re off. I’m wearing my big full-length rubber raincoat over all the clothing I brought, and I’m still chilled.

10:15 a.m.We head up a trail toward

the top of the mountain (which may or may not be a volcano). It’s a spectacular view. The sun rises and the sea ducks are flying. Bald eagles are everywhere. They sit on little knobs on the side of the rolling hills. We even see a blue-phase arctic fox. The fox is pretty, but not native. It’s one of many escapees from a failed fur farm.

12:15 p.m. Reindeer! We see 12 or so,

all of them are bulls. We begin working our way over to them. The valley floor looks flat, but it’s not; there are rises and hidden ravines and gullies. Volcanic ash covers the island tens of feet deep; it’s eas-ily erodible, as eons of rain gouges deep into the island face make clear. Some are straight walls 20 feet deep. We’ll have to be careful traversing them with the quads.

Reindeer may look like caribou, even smell like caribou, but they are, in fact, reindeer. There is a bit of controversy regarding

the science behind this, but the fact of the matter is they are classified by the state of Alaska as reindeer. Furthermore, although the initial indications were that the Boone and Crockett Club was going to catego-rize these animals as caribou, and mine was initially scored as such, B&C has now officially decided that they are reindeer. Effectively this means that unlike SCI, B&C will not record these animals in its record books (reindeer are not recognized by B&C as a North American game animal). So there you have it. The state of Alaska says they are reindeer, B&C says they are reindeer, SCI says they are reindeer and, from what I hear, even Santa Claus is in agreement.

The reindeer were likely introduced to Alaska around 1892 and continued to be reintroduced until about 1935. The first transplants are said to have taken place on the Alaska Peninsula and the main-land. There are records of transplants to Unalakeleet and Point Barrow, Nunivak; St. Mathew and the Pribilof Islands in the Bering Sea; Kodiak Island in the Gulf of Alaska; and the Aleutian islands of Umnak and Atka around 1914.

Officially, reindeer were transplanted for subsistence food and skin sources for the native populations and for economic

development of nearby villages. Reindeer on the Aleutians were never domesti-cated and, with no antler market, they’ve roamed free since the transplant.

The animals introduced to Umnak and Atka islands in the Aleutian chain roam freely over the entire 80x20-mile Umnak Island and the smaller Atka Island. Numbers are reported to be near 6,000 on Umnak and 2,000 on Atka. These ani-mals have essentially never been trophy hunted. And they’ve only been minimally hunted for food by the native Aleuts.

The first reindeer I took scored 511 SCI points, the second-largest ever taken and the best ever with a muzzleloader. My second reindeer scored 464 SCI points, which places it among the top 10 all time. I believe that bulls scoring over 600 SCI points will be taken in the not-too-distant future. The minimum score for inclusion in the SCI book is 264 points.

The Aleutian Pribilof Island Commu-nity Development Association (APICDA Joint Ventues Inc.) has subsequently approached me to form a unique partner-ship to benefit the local communities and hunters. Starting this fall, my staff will act as the exclusive marketing consultants for Umnak Island, and we’re working with APICDA Joint Ventures Inc. to teach members of the island community how to market this amazing treasure to Ameri-can hunters. (Contact Dan Goodenow at [email protected].)

Reindeer Situation Report

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American Hunter ■  August 2009 69

1 p.m.We spot two bulls injured from fighting. Both are

limping. The rut is just over, and the bulls are starting to band up. They’re good bulls, but it’s too early in the hunt to take one.

2 p.m. More bulls. Our Aleut guide waves us over. He

is on the edge of a ridge, looking down. We sneak up on the bulls and see the tips of antlers, but can’t judge them. The first bull sees us and stands. Then all of them get up, creating a forest of tines, shovels and beams. One bull is huge, but I find him too late and the herd scatters, joining the other 12 we’d spotted earlier. They’re out at 400 yards now, watching us. It would be an easy shot with a good cen-terfire rifle, but 250 yards farther than I’m comfortable shooting my T/C Endeavor.

3 p.m. These animals know the deal. They’ve been

hunted for meat by the Aleut people for nearly a century. I’m a little upset at myself for not being able to pick out the biggest bull sooner on the original stalk, but there are too many bulls, too many big sets of antlers. I guess that’s not a bad problem to have. And I remember it’s only the first day. Plenty of time left.

4 p.m. We’re practically sitting on top of the world,

spotting reindeer herds miles away. They look like bunches of white ants against the yellow grass of this fantastic place. God, it is beautiful here. It strikes me now that this has to be one of the most beautiful places on the planet, and hardly anyone ever gets to see it. It’s truly a highlight of my hunting career. I wish every hunter could be here for this sight. We see cows,

calves and smaller bulls, but nothing big enough. We keep looking.

6 p.m. We make a stalk and get to within 150 yards

before a bull spots us and stands. He is one of those “good-from-far-but-far-from-good” type bulls. I let him go. Then we spot a massive bull. Not many points, but the thickest antlers I’ve seen on anything but a moose. We make it to 40 yards, and can see the tops of his heavy

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antlers. He has only four points on each side up top, but what mass! I hold my breath and wait for him to stand so I can shoot, but—oh no—the wind changes! A puff at the back of my neck and the bull is up and running. There is nothing I can do but watch him run.

7:30 p.m. The sun’s setting and we have a

long walk to the quads and a long ride back to camp. What a day. Best hunt I’ve been on in years—tons of animals, giant

7:30 p.m. It was gorgeous again, magical

light all day. We picked up a few skulls and sheds we saw lying around. Awesome stuff for anyone who likes shed hunting, but it’s our consolation prize for the day. We worked our tails off, but could not find the bull we were after. Tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow for a hunter.

November 2, 2008

10:30 a.m. We barely start to work

our way up the mountain trail when we spot the herd of bulls from the first day, high up on the shoulder of the mountain. We pick a walking route that should put us above the herd.

11:15 a.m. It’s a little tougher going

now that we’ve left the quads behind. We’re up in the black, sooty soil well above treeline—not even lichen lives here. Please volcano, don’t tremble while we’re up here. Yellow, waving grass stretches out far below. A fog bank is coming in off the ocean; perfect for cover.

bulls, plus absolutely remote and wild lands. It made me totally forget that we’re walking on a volcano that’s shaped like an island. We’re lucky with the weather. The wind’s blowing hard, but it’s still clear.

9:30 p.m. Back at camp, I meet the chief

of the local village, Mark Snigaroff. He’s a great guy; I like him. He tells us stories about being out in the ocean on skiffs fishing for 400-pound halibut and hunting sea ducks. He promises to bring

1:30 p.m. We drop down into the grass

and cross the last wide-open patch, totally hidden in the fog. What a stroke of luck. Then, there they are 250 yards away. Still too far, but they don’t know we’re there. There is a runoff channel that’s the perfect depth to belly crawl through. We make it to 176 yards and I decide that’s close enough. The big bull is in perfect position and I have a good rest. I take the shot and he goes down. The wind pushes the big Nosler bullet slightly off course, but still the shot is in the nine ring.

The other bulls cross the ridge, looking

in a pail full of sea urchins before the hunt ends—about $4,000 worth in a fancy sushi bar. I’m going to eat like a king, or maybe a walrus.

November 1, 2008

2 p.m. We’re looking for the heavy-antlered bull in the

same place we left him yesterday. I thought about him all night. I’ve never seen any-thing like those antlers. They wouldn’t score as much as some of the other bulls we’ve seen, but no antlers have ever impressed me so much. I’m focused, with only that bull on my brain. There are lots of herds in the distance, but we’re checking every dip and fold on this side of the valley. He’s got to be here somewhere.

back for their leader. It is definitely the biggest bull in the bunch. As we walk up to him I realize just how big he really is. Holy smokes! He has a double bez on one side, double shovels and long tines and main beams. It’s a spectacular animal.

5 p.m.When I booked this hunt, I wasn’t sure I’d want to

hunt two reindeer; now there’s no question. Without a doubt, it’s a world-class hunt. Please continue sleeping, Mr. Volcano.

6 p.m.King crab legs for dinner tonight. Everything is good

back at home, but the stock market has dropped something like 40 percent in the last few weeks. I just called home on the satellite phone, and it’s dropped again. Guess I’d rather spend my last dollars on a hunt, doing something I love rather than watching my hard-earned savings going down the toilet—at least that’s how I’m justifying the expense of a second reindeer.

November 3, 2008

12:30 p.m.We spot some bulls right off

the bat, down below us near the ocean, and attempt a stalk. Fellow hunter Kelly Johnson and I are along for moral support as George Weaver and a hunter by the name of Peter are up to bat. The bulls, five in all, are in a perfect position for a stalk. We make it to the edge of a ravine, knowing if the bulls continue on their current route, they’ll emerge no more than 60 yards away.

That’s exactly what occurs. Peter quickly takes the biggest bull, dropping it in its tracks. Then George takes a second bull with a great running shot. Even as we help the guys quarter and skin the bulls, we see another group of bulls on a distant ridge. Some 150 to 200 animals were in another herd down in the valley below. We see the odd smaller group here and there in the distance, but we can’t get to any of them due to the many ravines. No worries, two bulls in one day is good by any measure.

9 p.m.We make it back to camp at dark for a dinner of live sea

urchins. Mark comes through as promised with a bucket of 18 of the spiny creatures. Kelly and I chow down on them, cracking them open and slurping down the innards. Mmm, good! They taste like a mixture of raw egg yolk, honey, gasoline and fish slime.

The author’s bulls both scored in the top 10 all-time SCI. Introduced in 1892, Alaska’s reindeer may look like caribou, but they are an entirely separate species.

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We’re stuffed now and can hardly move. I’m filled with self-loathing over my lack of self-control. I ate 10 all by myself. Kelly came in a distant second with seven, and the rest of our camp shared the last one. Burp.

November 4, 2008

9 a.m.I was a little concerned that I might be up in the

night suffering some weird side-effect of eating enough sea urchins to feed an entire Japanese family, but it wasn’t the case. I feel great. My mouth feels a little bit like a tidal mud flat, but otherwise I’m ready for action.

10:30 a.m. Kelly and I are riding

the quads through a deep ravine when we spot three bulls on the far slope. We ditch the quads and start climbing, probably ascending 900 feet. We have 500 more to go. It’s a lot of fun if you like sweat. Kelly is in excellent shape and he’s climbing the mountain easily, not huffing at all.

3:30 p.m.We reach the bulls and one

has the longest main beams I’ve ever seen. Another bull has unbelievable bottoms. Kelly and I decide they have character, and we like character. He goes after the long-beamed bull, and I begin to sneak on the one with big bottoms. It is a tough, hands-and-knees stalk. I can’t get any closer than 170 yards. Kelly plans to wait until I take my shot. He is using a centerfire, so he can reach out if he has to.

Within seconds my bull is down and out. No wind-drift this time. Kelly takes his shot and drops the bull in its tracks.

7:30 p.m.What an abso-lutely world-class,

once-in-a-lifetime hunt. Kelly and I are thrilled. As we stand there on the side of the mountain (which I finally admit is a volcano) our smiles nearly stretch from the ocean on one side of us to the sea on the other. The sun is setting on us now, bathing us in golden light. I can’t speak for Kelly, but I’ll return to this enchanted place to hunt reindeer between two worlds, where East meets West. ah