Eagle outdoors columnist Jay E. Hewitt stands inside the Spartan bunk house that he and his hunting companions used on a recent trip to northern Quebec.

This is the last in a series of three reports about Eagle outdoors columnist Jay E. Hewitt's recent hunting trip to northern Quebec.After having high expectations for a great hunting trip, the camp soon realized this area of Quebec was going to present some tough conditions.In the meantime, the small game hunting was exceptional, as we had plenty of grouse for our dinner plans, as well as enough walleye.The fishing turned around when my fishing buddy Sim traded me in for 100 worms.Yes, you heard that right. All he got for dumping me and taking on a new partner from Maryland was some night crawlers.The fellow told Sim he fished up here all the time and would take him out to some hot spots, so there went our team!After that, I decided to hike into the bush and find the moose that had eluded us all week.Walking the game trails can be interesting in the blueberry bogs and spruce forest edges. Pancake-size piles of blueberry-influenced bear scat was causing me a frequent detour on the paths. It was obvious from the tracks that bears, moose and a wolf used this trail.What really interested me was that I found a territory rub line that a bull moose had claimed. Pines were shredded upward of 8-feet high, and I was between the spruce and the more open areas.I decided that this was the area that I would concentrate on for the remaining days of the hunt. We had hunters reporting some sightings and sign in a large area, but no one was presented with a shot.A spruce grouse near me put on quite a show that was making me wish that I had filmed it for the Audubon Society or Ruffed Grouse Society.I had seen some wonderful wildlife, including a pair of otters, beavers, a pair of ermine at my feet, a huge horned owl and magnificent ravens, but I still did not see my moose.This was going to require a change in strategy if we were going to leave Quebec with success.The rain came that night and the hunters dragged in one at a time soggy and tired. Two of our party had been hunting with bows and muzzleloaders, and they were frustrated as a moose had crossed near Cliff and worked his way through five hunters without ever having a shot taken at him.Cliff had the best opportunity, but he sheepishly admitted that he was behind a woodpile when the moose went through. I told him that he broke the cardinal rule of all hunters by not having his firearm with him.Robbie Bryan and I decided to use a new strategy to hunt in the area that I had found. We would put out moose scent near the bull moose's territory and try to use a grunt call. One of the locals had given me a rolled birch bark call that looked like a megaphone. We would go in before daylight and set up in an area that was full of sign.Robbie would put out the scent, which reminded me of a barnyard, and I would get into a nest of boulders and start the calling. I had practiced with the call at camp and I am sure the boys were glad that I was now in the outdoors and away from them.We heard a faint call, but the wind was swirling around and we could not pinpoint it. The swirling wind also was bad news for our scent carrying to Mr. Bullwinkle, who has one heck of a sniffer.We waited for several hours and had no visitors to our position. We decided to move into a clear-cut area over the ridge, found a fresh bedding area and realized that we were in the moose house.Working our way back to the game trail, we were dismayed to find that moose had been on our sets when we moved over the ridge and had walked up the trail past both of our earlier positions.The rain began in earnest and time became a factor, as we now had to consider the size of a moose, meat preparation/transport conditions and the warm temperature.The camp caretakers told us that the one road that we had come in on was becoming a wash out because the beaver dams were cresting. There would be no road crews out here until spring and we had to make a decision: stay for two more days or pull camp.We all looked at each other and decided to head for the border.The road was washed out and both of our trailers had to be dragged through the 2-foot deep holes. Both trailers had tires damaged and replaced by the time we got to the U.S. border.The customs officer asked me as we came to the crossing if I had anything to declare and I said, "Yes, I declare that I'm darn glad to be home in the USA!"He laughed and told us, "Welcome home!"