GLENN B. WALKER
"I am of the opinion," said Glenn Walker the other day to a group of his Anchorage friends, "that if you were to penetrate the real swamp country and find the roughest, wildest, wettest spot, you could get a trophy-size moose." Acting on his conviction Walker flew to a remote part of Alaska's Kenai Peninsula, landed at 6:30 in the morning and began his hike through the Drift River swamps. Nearby rose the greenish-white ridges of a glacier. Walker began to enjoy himself. "In hunting, the scenery gets you as much as anything else; it's half the fun." Two hours later he climbed a spruce and, only a quarter mile away, spotted a large bull moose.
"That's the one," Walker told his companion, and cautiously, up to his knees in water, he circled to within 150 feet and squeezed off a well-placed shot. Within seconds after the moose had toppled, Walker was estimating the antler spread, sure that he had a near-record trophy. But it was not until three days later, after he and his companions lugged the carcass out on their backs, by fishing scow and specially chartered plane, that Walker learned how large his moose really was: the antler spread came to 81 inches, the widest ever measured.
Glenn Walker is a big, jolly 58-year-old bachelor who came to Alaska on a business trip and stayed. An auditor by profession, he is a rabid weekend outdoorsman, hiker, photographer, fisherman and, especially, a hunter of moose, bear, goats, ducks and geese. Right now, with the first fall of snow already on the mountains, Walker is thinking deeply about a Toklat grizzly he saw the other day. "Why, he had hair that stuck out a foot. He'd sure be the most beautiful bear anybody ever got...."
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