I made this trade tomahawk and carried it in the Montana wilderness. When a moose attacked my young son I told him to run behind me and hide by a rock. He was searching for arrowheads near a spring runnoff stream. Suddenly, he came running toward me terrified, saying “I hear something, I am scared.” I then felt the unmistakable shake in the ground of the black moose running as it broke into the clearing. I drew this tomahawk from my belt and charged the enraged moose, firing my 50 caliber long rifle one handed at point-blank range at its face, while swinging in with the hawk. Moose rared up, wheeled (like only a moose can do with its double-jointed limbs that can kick sideways), defecated itself, and ran. My now fully grown son, who was a very young boy at the time, remembers the 50 long rifle thunderclap and me dressed in bucksin leather and boots rushing through the smoke swinging in with the tomahawk with a war cry, striking at the face of the moose. When he turned 18, I gifted it to him, and now carries and throws it himself. I’ve gone hands on with a 350 pound black bear with a 12” blade bowie knife at 3am, and been chased by five 150# black-furred wolves for interfering with their hunt, (documented with MT FWP), but protecting my son was the most intense experience I had on the MT wilderness divide.
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Reverse image picture my wife took of me returning at 3 am from patrolling the property for wolves. The temperature was 40 degrees below zero on the continental divide. She had tea ready. I love Montana, where outsiders will not go.
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