It worked out well, and without issue - for the most part - but was a nice small story unto itself (it'll help him remember). As you can see, the skinning took place after dark. It was a fly-in hunt; we were a cajillion miles from anywhere. There was a bear in the vicinity that knew about the moose and we'd hear him occasionally. There was a beaver lodge close by and they'd slap the water and scare the pee out of us, thinking it was the bear. We were two miles or a little more from camp, with two small inflatables. The largest of the two developed a leak on the way back, so we add to address that as we went. It was pretty chilly. The main lake below this small pond was covered in fog when we got to it. I remember put-putting along (a 1.2 horse outboard), me and his other son and a load of meat, chill in the air, and looking up at the night sky, which was clear and filled with stars and the northern lights, and thinking how it was just darned near perfect. We made it back to camp at a bit after 2 AM. A little coffee, some snacking, some laughing, some slapping of backs... and then a late crawl-in to the sleeping bags. You know, moose hunting.
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