by Guy Fitzgerald

There he was. Standing right in front of me. His hide was dripping with the cold water of Northern Quebec. As the air passed quickly in and out of his nostrils, I thought of a bull right before he charged. The fear that I saw in his eyes was almost too much to bear. He knew that I was the predator and his life was about to end. He was the mighty "Drifter" that roamed the endless miles of northern Canada. This was his land. I was an invader on his territory. Nevertheless, he was mine for the taking. 

Staring him right in the eyes, I drew my bow. 

"You're goin' down", I whispered. 

Just as I was about to release, I heard my alarm go off. 

It was time to wake up.

This was just a dream, but I was on my way to experience the real deal in just a few short days. We would travel all the way to Northern Quebec, Canada in search of the mighty "Tuktu" (Eskimo for caribou). We would travel the long, weary, ten-hour trip by plane in pursuit of this great mammal. 
Looking out of the plane we saw thousands of trails that the caribou had made while in their migration. As I looked I observed the camp up ahead. We were in a floatplane, which meant that we had to land on a water body. 

As the floats met the water, I observed sunlit particles almost create kind of a rainbow as they splashed away at a steady pace. I couldn't believe it, as we taxied in we had to slow down and let a bull swim across the cold but clean and crisp water. This was awesome. My heart had started to race.

When we got to land I ran up to the crossing, looked out over the great tundra of Northern Quebec, smelled the aroma of the pure air, and smiled. I had arrived. This is it. Caribou camp in the "Nord country" as the French say. What waited over the far hills was just to be left to the imagination. Huge bulls were just waiting to come across the cold water to the island we were on. And we were waiting patiently for them.

That night was very cold. Our little cabin was approximately twelve feet by twelve feet. It had just a basic plywood floor and bare wall sections with plastic wrap stapled on to keep the rain out. Pretty basic to say the least.

Morning came and we were off. With just our bows and the camera we hit the lichen covered hills in search of the mighty "Tuktu" or "Tundra Drifter" as we at Fitzgerald Enterprises say. We hunted mostly around the larger patches of lichen. After a few hours of seeing caribou we decided to go down to the lake and look around. As we were walking we spotted a lone bull swimming across the short end of the lake. 

"Hey Guy," Dad hissed as he motioned for me to move ahead, "let's get down right behind those cedars."

"All right Dad. Look, he's coming straight for us," I said, pointing out over the lake. We got into position and waited. Within a few seconds it was time for me to draw. You're right, mega tension. 

" Make it count, Guy." 

" Are you on him, Dad." 

" Do it up, Guy." 

He came out of the water in a full run. I grunted. He slowed down a little, and I released. 

"Good shot, Guy. That was awesome! This was worth the whole trip." 

He went down in view of the camera. I was relieved to see the arrow had passed quickly through the animal. It was a good thing that he had only run twenty yards or so, because I was right behind him the whole way. 

When I calmed down, I yelled out loudly, "Thank you Lord! You are the reason this happened." 

The next few days passed too quickly and we had a blast. I was able to run the camera for my dad and see him take two awesome animals in almost impossible circumstances. 

Even though that was a few seasons ago I still dream dreams of mossy hills, and crystal clear water. Every once in a while, if I look close enough at the north horizon, I get a glimpse of that brownish-white hide dripping with water. I hear the deep moan and see the mighty rack bend as he comes over the early morning horizon. He stays just far enough off for me to admire, but too far for me to shoot. He watches me as I move, and I watch him. He challenges my every skill. He's that one bull you hear about, but no one can get. Maybe a bowhunter's greatest challenge. To take the drifter you must move like him. You must get inside his head and think like him. The rest is up to you. O, how I long for the day when I taste sweet victory, when I conquer the "Mighty Tuktu", the "Tundra Drifter". 

You can see this hunt in its entirety, as well as, several other full length hunts in the video production "Tundra Drifters" by Team Fitzgerald Outdoors.

To order direct call toll free 1-877-423-8124 and visit www.teamfitzgerald.com

Don't miss "Team Fitzgerald Outdoors" on The Outdoor Channel Sunday nights at 6:30 p.m. et, Tuesday mornings at 2:00 a.m. et, and Friday afternoons at 2:30 p.m. et. Starting July, 2002!!!

Guy Fitzgerald is fast becoming a veteran outdoorsman, as he has 19 years of documented and filmed experience in the outdoors.  Guy is the President of Fitzgerald Hunting Corporation, a company that Dan founded 22 years ago.  Guy is, perhaps, the youngest veteran professional bowhunter in the world. 

"Team Fitzgerald Outdoors" on The Outdoor Channel is hosted by Guy & Dan Fitzgerald.

Guy & Dan Fitzgerald are hunting video pioneers and are among the leading hunting video producers in the world today.  They have over forty full-length video titles to date.  Together, Guy & Dan bring forth a fast paced, in your face, roll up your sleeves and go hunting type of attitude.  To them hunting is not a sport, it is a way of life. 

For More Information On Guy & Dan Fitzgerald visit www.teamfitzgerald.com

Watch "Team Fitzgerald Outdoors" on The Outdoor Channel
Sundays at 6:30 p.m. et starting July, 2002! 

P.S. Check one of our latest video releases "Slam Dunkin' Whitetails & Muley's"