Bear Hunt
This day reminded me of the children's book We're Going On a Bear Hunt.
"We're going on a bear hunt. We're going to catch a big one. What a beautiful day! We're not scared. Oh no!! A deep dark forest! We can't go over it. We can't go under it. Oh, no!! We've got to go through it!"
I'm pretty sure this was the craziest adventure I've ever had.
After catching this bear on camera, 7 days in a row, we knew he was coming in. All we needed to do was wait. And wait. And wait, until it was almost too dark to shoot.
"Stew" came in broadside during the last 5 minutes of legal shooting hours. A fatal mistake on his part.
I looked at Dad, and mouthed "Should I take him?"
He looked back, whispering "If you've got a good shot, yes."
I had the perfect shot. Broadside, but slightly quartering away with his front leg forward. I took it.
He ran off to the right, and crashed through the alders. 40 minutes later, I was quite concerned that my shot hadn't been good enough. Sticks were still breaking every few minutes, and we could still hear rustling in the bushes.
Now it's 9:30, and it's completely dark.
Hannah, Sam, Mr. Olson, Luke, Dad and I began our search, but there was no blood by the bait pile. Not a drop.
After about half an hour, we found a trail, but with no sure direction to follow.
We were about ready to call it a night at 10:30, when we found a new trail on the other side of the creek. Following this trail (and by trail, I mean a few hairs or a spot of blood every 5-6 feet), we crawled deeper into the underbrush. Our flashlights and headlamps started to die. The sounds of the north woods at night were all around us, and I was scared. Not just sort of scared. I was really scared. I was hypoglycemic, tired, and running solely on adrenaline. I was so very thankful to have Dad with a handgun next to me.
After another hour and a half of tracking, we found him. A 435 pound black bear. Deep in the woods, with no way to drag him.
We used Dad's belt, and pulled it out of the woods. Out of the alders, across the creek (we had to build a bridge out of logs to get it across), and to the trail. It took until 2:30 am. Thanks to our tracking crew, we did it. And it tastes really good.
"We're going on a bear hunt. We're going to catch a big one. What a beautiful day! We're not scared. Oh no!! A deep dark forest! We can't go over it. We can't go under it. Oh, no!! We've got to go through it!"
I'm pretty sure this was the craziest adventure I've ever had.
After catching this bear on camera, 7 days in a row, we knew he was coming in. All we needed to do was wait. And wait. And wait, until it was almost too dark to shoot.
"Stew" came in broadside during the last 5 minutes of legal shooting hours. A fatal mistake on his part.
I looked at Dad, and mouthed "Should I take him?"
He looked back, whispering "If you've got a good shot, yes."
I had the perfect shot. Broadside, but slightly quartering away with his front leg forward. I took it.
He ran off to the right, and crashed through the alders. 40 minutes later, I was quite concerned that my shot hadn't been good enough. Sticks were still breaking every few minutes, and we could still hear rustling in the bushes.
Now it's 9:30, and it's completely dark.
Hannah, Sam, Mr. Olson, Luke, Dad and I began our search, but there was no blood by the bait pile. Not a drop.
After about half an hour, we found a trail, but with no sure direction to follow.
We were about ready to call it a night at 10:30, when we found a new trail on the other side of the creek. Following this trail (and by trail, I mean a few hairs or a spot of blood every 5-6 feet), we crawled deeper into the underbrush. Our flashlights and headlamps started to die. The sounds of the north woods at night were all around us, and I was scared. Not just sort of scared. I was really scared. I was hypoglycemic, tired, and running solely on adrenaline. I was so very thankful to have Dad with a handgun next to me.
After another hour and a half of tracking, we found him. A 435 pound black bear. Deep in the woods, with no way to drag him.
We used Dad's belt, and pulled it out of the woods. Out of the alders, across the creek (we had to build a bridge out of logs to get it across), and to the trail. It took until 2:30 am. Thanks to our tracking crew, we did it. And it tastes really good.
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