The Deer That Never Stops: by Anthony Licata

I saw my first big band of caribou sidehilling on a ridge about 500 yards from the one I was sitting on. Through my binoculars I counted 14 animals - mostly cows and calves, but mixed in were three nice bulls. I grabbed my pack and rifle and sneaked to a lone spruce on the open tundra that would give me some cover to take a better look. Despite the clear view I now had at the open ridge, I couldn't find the herd. Finally I spotted them, still walking at the same steady pace, but in front of where I expected them to be by about 200 yards. This should've been my first clue that caribou aren't whitetails.

Trying to stay out of sight, I worked my way up to the head of my ridge, where I figured I could get in front of the herd, meet up with my hunting buddy, Joe Arterburn, and put us in position to have bulls cross 200 yards below us. I got there in five minutes and told Joe the plan. The two of us set up and waited for the herd to show. But we weren't there 30 seconds when Joe said, "Wait a minute. Is that them?" I looked up just in time to see the last of the caribou slipping over a ridge way off on the western horizon. Caribou spend much of their lives moving, traveling thousands of miles a year, every year. I knew that, but it still was not easy for this deer hunter to believe they can cover hundreds of yards in the time it takes me to round up my stuff and brush off my pants, without ever breaking the pace of a determined walk. Over the next six days, I'd have plenty of chances to learn the hard way.