The two boats moved like agile torpedoes, not charging toward the moose herd but maintaining a distance of about one hundred and fifty meters, moving parallel to the herd as it crossed the river, downstream at a slow pace.

Lin Yu’an’s operation was extremely steady, consistently keeping the boat at a perfect shooting angle with the side of the moose herd, creating a stable shooting platform.

On the river’s surface, the scene became incredibly thrilling! Huge moose were paddling furiously, just not far from them, creating massive splashes, with their heavy panting clearly audible!

Barton’s command came again: “Stan! The leader on the left wing! Biggest antlers! It’s yours!”

“Bang!”

Stan fired without hesitation, causing the leader beast’s body to jolt violently, letting out a mournful cry before crashing down into the river!

The fall of the leader threw the entire herd into chaos instantly!

They began to change direction, some trying to return, others accelerating forward, creating total chaos on the river’s surface!

“Nice job, Stan! Six more tags left, finish them quickly!”

“Lin! Your target! The one on the right! It’s got the most beautiful antlers! That’s your non-resident tag!” Barton shouted.

Lin Yu’an had already locked onto his target, and in a moment of slight rocking of the boat, seized the opportunity, firing decisively!

“Bang!”

The bullet hit precisely! That bull moose also fell in response!

“Little Eagle!” Barton’s voice was like a thunderclap.

“See the one right in front of us? It’s facing us! It’s yours! Your coming-of-age ceremony! Shoot!”

Little Eagle’s breath stopped momentarily! He looked at the bull moose directly ahead, a bit panicked due to its companion’s fall. Its huge head faced their direction! He raised his gun, his hands slightly trembling with nerves and excitement!

“Steady, son!” Barton’s voice came again, this time filled with paternal encouragement.

“Forget everything else! In your eyes, there’s only it! Aim under its neck, at the chest!”

Little Eagle took a deep breath, trying hard to calm himself, recalling his father’s teachings, his finger firmly placed on the trigger.

“Bang!”

The gun fired! The bullet struck the moose’s chest, sending up a splash of blood! The moose let out a painful wail, but still, stubbornly tried to swim toward the opposite shore!

“It’s not dead!” Little Eagle shouted in panic.

“Then shoot it again! Until it falls!”

Barton’s voice carried not a hint of mercy: “Only a hunter’s basic respect for the prey, allowing it to die quickly and painlessly! Remember, son! That’s benevolence!”

Little Eagle swiftly cycled the bolt, the scorching casing ejected.

He aimed again, at the still struggling moose, decisively pulling the trigger a second time!

“Bang!”

This time, that bull moose finally lost all strength, and slowly collapsed into the river.

“Five more tags left!” Barton’s voice sounded like war drums, echoing continuously over the walkie-talkie.

“Don’t stop! Keep shooting! Stan, the doe at ten o’clock! No fawn! Shoot it!”

“Bang!”

The gunshots echoed continuously in the river valley, the hot casings ejecting one after another from the chamber, falling into the boat with crisp clangs.

This was a shockingly efficient yet disciplined group hunt.

They did not engage in indiscriminate killing; each shot was precisely instructed by Barton, the experienced commander, targeting only adult bulls and non-fawn-carrying does, ensuring no harm to any calves.

In less than five minutes, accompanied by the ringing gunshots, eight massive moose fell one after another into the icy river!

The remaining herd scattered in panic, some returning to the side they came from, others successfully reaching the opposite shore, quickly disappearing into the dense forest.

On the river’s surface, the smoke had not yet dispersed, and eight giant beasts, like small mountains, floated quietly in the water, dyeing the clear river a dark red.

“We did it…” Little Eagle looked at this spectacular yet bloody scene, collapsing onto the boat in excitement, panting heavily.

“No, Little Eagle, the hardest work has just begun.” Barton’s voice was incredibly calm.

He looked at the eight giant beasts in the river, immediately picking up the satellite phone, dialing Old George’s number.

“George! It’s me, Barton! We made it! At S Bay, eight big ones! We can’t transport them back!”

“Tomorrow morning, need you, Hank, Cody, and everyone, bring all the boats that can be used, to help us transport the meat back!”

Ending the call, he gave new instructions to the group: “Reinforcements arriving tomorrow morning. Tonight, our task is to drag these eight big ones to the shore, complete initial processing, and guard them to prevent theft by wolves or bears!”

They started the engines, heroically dragging the three beasts from deep water to a shallow open pebble beach just ankle-deep.

Barton began to command: “We will set up a temporary camp here, completely decompose these three big ones, then transport them back tomorrow morning.”

They worked together to drag the moose carcasses, one by one, completely onto the shore from the water, conducting skinning and decomposition right by the riverbank.

Lin Yu’an walked toward the bull moose he had personally shot and began his own butchering work.

Meanwhile, Barton, with his somewhat pale-faced son whose eyes were filled with shock and a hint of confusion, approached the bull he had taken down himself.

“Little Eagle, as you can see, this is hunting. It is not just pulling the trigger; it encompasses these bloody, cumbersome, yet respectful tasks afterward.”

He handed Little Eagle a sharp skinning knife with an upward-curving blade.

“In our Athabasca tradition, for a boy to become a true hunter, he must personally handle the first large prey he has a part in capturing.”

“It’s your respect for its life and your promise to your future! You fired the shot, so it’s your game. Today, this bull will be handled by you. We will teach you, but you must complete it yourself.”

Barton’s voice was steady and clear: “Start cutting from its rear leg ankle, make a circle around until you reach the bone. Then, along the inside of the leg, slice a straight line up to the middle of the abdomen.”

“Remember, keep your knife tip pointing upward, lift the skin with the blade, don’t pierce it, or you’ll cut into the muscle and stomach sac underneath.”

Little Eagle took a deep breath and made the first cut as per his father’s instructions.

The warm scent of blood and fat made him slightly uneasy, but he persisted.

“Good,” Barton encouraged.

“Now, grab the edge of the skin and start peeling it downward. When you encounter fascia connections, gently cut them with the knife tip. Don’t use brute force; use skill.”

With Barton’s guidance, Little Eagle’s movements gradually shifted from clumsy to proficient.

When he personally peeled off the whole large, heavy, still warm moose hide, he let out a long breath, his face smeared with blood, but his eyes incredibly bright.

On the other side, Lin Yu’an’s movements were swift as lightning. He used the same method and completed peeling the skin from his moose in an hour.

Barton switched to a longer, slimmer bone-carving saber to begin more fundamental teaching.

“Our goal is to decompose this giant beast into several main transportable parts, rather than a pile of fragments, to keep the meat as intact and fresh as possible.”

He demonstrated by precisely inserting the knife into the joint connecting the rear leg to the pelvis, then easily disengaged the entire hip joint using a clever lever action.

“Look, Little Eagle, the key is finding the joint gap, not chopping the bone hard. Anatomy is a required course for every hunter.”

He handed the knife to Little Eagle: “Now, it’s your turn. Find the joint on the other back leg, feel it, then cut through it.”

When Little Eagle decomposed the first over-hundred-pound rear leg completely, his face no longer showed fear but was filled with focus and a sense of accomplishment!

Through their joint effort, the giant beast was perfectly decomposed into four legged bones, two massive back muscles, two tenderloins, neck meat, ribs, and some scattered pieces.

While they handled the game, Barton adhered to a more ancient tradition.

From the first gutted moose’s abdomen, he carefully extracted the heart, still slightly warm, and a complete liver leaf.

He took these two items to the riverside, carefully washed them clean with cold river water, then sliced them into even thin pieces, skewered them on several sharpened willow branches, and roasted them over a small campfire.

He didn’t add any seasoning, just a little salt on top.

Soon, an original meat aroma mixed with the unique scent of organs and campfire smoke filled the air.

“This is our tribute to the spirit of the moose.”

He explained to the curious David: “Its heart granted us courage, its liver gave us strength. Before we take it home, we must first share its first gift on the spot to thank it for giving us life.”

He handed the first batch of grilled moose liver, seasoned with a touch of salt, to the sweat-drenched Little Eagle, who had just finished cutting.

“Eat, child.” Barton’s voice carried a hint of warmth.

“This is your trophy and your rite of passage. Consume it, and you’ll gain the moose’s strength.”

Little Eagle accepted it and began to eat heartily. The scorching, wild taste made him instantly forget his fatigue.

As night fell, they lit a huge bonfire that illuminated the entire riverbank.

On the riverbank, the four moose that had been primitively processed were covered in large waterproof tarps; the other four moose had only their insides cleaned, with no time for detailed processing.

Four of them took turns on night watch, drinking hot coffee, wary of any intruders attracted by the scent of blood in the darkness.

The next morning, as the sun rose, the roar of support fleet engines was heard at the bend of the distant river channel.

Four boats of varying sizes formed a large V formation, heading upstream, breaking the water surface towards them!

Leading was Old George’s most spacious 18-foot Crestliner fishing boat, followed by Hank and Cody’s Jon boats.

Surprisingly, Dog Trainer Ryan had also come along with an assault boat, on which sat a burly man with a big beard.

“Hey! Barton! Did you guys disturb a moose’s nest?” Old George shouted excitedly from afar.

When the five boats landed one by one, everyone jumped onto the riverbank, and even these seasoned individuals were awed by the sight of those eight primitively processed giants.

“Oh my God…”

————

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep