Made a phone call from the middle of the river; started my drive back on my quad to camp and a nice forked horn practically ran me over; I paused my quad, started to unshoulder my rifle and before I could place the cross hairs on a 15 yard shot - *poof* disappeared into the alders. I tried calling (to no avail) and tracking the nice prints he left (the rooster tail of silt was easy to follow too) and bupkus... no moose.
I was so demoralized on my way back to camp I found myself talking out loud...
"He was right there... RIGHT THERE!"
"Stupid motorized vehicle rule... fair chase? What's that? I can chase him... he's got four legs, I have four tires..."
"I can't believe I'm talking to myself... shut up self..... okay."