Pine Knot Outdoors: Moose whisperer works his magic

I was heading back down the Gunflint Trail from a full day of guiding on Lake Saganaga, or Big Sag as the locals refer to it. I had a young couple from the Cities who were excited about the cooler of fresh walleyes, bass, and lake trout collected from the rootbeer-stained water of Sag. But they both hoped to end their day laying eyes on their first moose.

Somedays I would get lucky and a cow or calf would linger in the moose pond adjacent to the guides' landing on the Sag corridor. Always a welcome addition to the experience, a moose sighting sat atop many visitors list. Most of the time, a moose encounter never materialized. Putting the odds in our favor I took a detour on Tuscarora Road, a few miles northwest of Gunflint Lake. As I rounded the bend, I lowered the windows on my truck. The gravel crunched under our wheels as we slowly rolled to a stop.

The beavers had labored to hold back the waters along the side of the road. Their dam created a wall of muck and log and stench that reached six feet high at its apex. Beyond the jam, a small pond rose from the surrounding swamp to eye level. Within the pond, wild plants and lilies grew thick; their flowers and sprouts taunting nearby moose to exit the safety of the surrounding brush. Sure enough, a cow and two calves were taking turns dunking their massive frames under the surface of the water, reappearing with fresh green roots and shoots. My guests had plenty of time to break out their cameras and enjoy the show.

We pulled into Gunflint Lodge a few minutes after our encounter. I had fish to clean and a shore lunch pack to disassemble. I noticed the evening nature tour was about to depart, and I knew my responsibilities would have to wait. To the surprise of the lodge naturalist, I invited myself along to partake in the nightly drive up and down the trail in search of grouse, bear, fox, and eagles. The ultimate prize, a moose sighting, was highly anticipated but rarely occurred. Having the cow and two calves in my back pocket, I made my move. As we approached the Gunflint Trail, I gently suggested we head up the trail.

As we approached the Tuscarora road, the naturalist flashed me a strange look when I asked him to make the turn and pull over to the side of the road. Eight lodge guests murmured behind me as I quietly opened the van door and asked them all to depart. Still a hundred yards from the pond, I was about to work my magic.

I talked of moose habitat and daily patterns. I talked about moose behavior and seasonal migrations. Most of all we discussed the distinct odor wafting off a midsummer moose.

Standing just off the gravel, facing the unseen pond, I inhaled the air. I allowed my eyes to close as I pulled at the air, both hands spreading past my nose. I asked everyone to do the same. As I perfected my technique I informed my audience to grab their cameras. I could smell a cow moose along with one ... no, two calves just upwind of us. To my surprise, several guests agreed to my conclusion. The rest looked bewildered at what the hell was going on.

We loaded up and collectively traveled the length of a football field. As we rounded the corner, jaws dropped and cameras clicked.

Sure enough, the moose whisperer had come through.

Bret Baker is a lifetime resident of Cloquet. He is a proud husband, father, educator and outdoorsman. Bret began guiding fishing trips when he was 16 years old. Today, in his 40s, his passion is to introduce people to the tremendous outdoor adventures our region has to offer.