Bear 2008

It was my sons 26th birthday and I had decided to leave it up to him of what he wanted to do for his birthday. He said..."Dad, instead of hunting opening morning, I would rather head to the St.Lawrence river and go for the bigger walleyes being caught late in the fall. During muzzle loading season I had slipped on a wet log and went for a tumble flat on my face. Mid-way through the fall my hand had come into contact with a 1/2 inch in diameter sapling that caused my wrist to be twisted in a direction that it was not made to do. This landed me in the ER having X-rays to see if I had broken it. Luckily there was no break and just a sever sprain and a possible hair line fracture that caused the hand to balloon up. My thoughts were....how am I going to cast and reel with this hand?

So off to the St.Lawrence river we went, starting out around 5am in the morning instead of the usual yearly ritual of being in the woods opening day of rifle. We did do well with catching walleyes and by 10 am, had boated 8 and with numerous other fish getting off before we were able to get them to the boat. Every fish that I hooked, ended in a pass off to my son to reel it in. I hand no strength and felt instant pain as I tried my best to reel the line in.

Rob with one of the walleyes

So on to the bear story....

It was around four in the afternoon and with now being fully garbed in camo, we loaded up the buggy, aka Polaris Ranger and headed for the woods. I parking the ranger about 600 yards of where we would be hunting that evening and walked the remaining distance. I had decided since it was my sons birthday that I would put him in my lucky stand location with hopes that he might get one.

Time passed as I encountered a number of red and gray squirrels running here and there collecting nuts for the large oak trees that were loaded this year. You could actually hear the acorns hit the ground as the leaves stirred with the impact. I watched a large porcupine lumber across in front of me taking his sweet old time rustling the dry leaves as he progressed up the hill.

My tendencies now while out sitting on watch is to bring a book to read to pass the time. I had just finished reading another three pages when I heard a stick snap down in the swamp. There was also a cat like meow taking place out in the swamp that I had never heard before. I sat there and stared intently in the direction the sound had come from and looking for any movement or something that might be out of place to pinpoint where the sound had come from.

Finally deciding that it must have been one of the squirrels, I went back to my reading. My usual habits are of reading three to four pages and then doing a look around to see if anything in my surroundings had changed. This time when I looked up there was now this pitch black object down in the tag alters about 100 yards away and not moving. I thought to myself that had not been there before!

I kept my focus on the object trying to figure out what it was and in about that same instance...the bear stuck his head out from behind a large tree and looked directly at me. I am still not sure if the bear actually saw me at that point or had he smelled my sugared coffee and mounds candy bars that I had been munching on and drinking not minutes before.

I had made up my mind that if the bear were to just continue on in the opposite direction...I would let him go. There we were in what seemed like hours looking at each other with me trying my best to remain perfectly still in hopes the bear would just lumber off. The bear then decided to turn in my direction and started off with a slow walk and then running in my direction closing the distance to around 60 yards. He then jumped up with its front legs on an old tree limb that had broken off in the last wind storm just below me at the base of the hill.

To be honest with you....it was kind of scary in that this bear was still looking directly at me and jumping up and down on the log. I pulled the gun up and decided I had better take the shot while the bear was still some distance away. I pulled out my extra clip from its case on my belt to give me 4 more back-up shots. I know...your thinking "how many shells do you need to actually kill the bear?". Well...with my thoughts going back to the bear I had harvested not three years prior, of where I had shot and hit the bear 5 times and he was still alive 3 hours later.

Back to the hunt....

At this point the bear was now around sixty yards away and standing on his hind legs with his front paws on the downed log. He was facing me head on so shot placement was critical. Just then he lifted his head high in the air using his nose to test the air currents trying to pick-up any possible danger scents. I could feel the cool breeze hitting me gently in the face and I was far enough downwind of the bear that I felt confident that he didn't have my scent. Bears have a very acute sense of smell.

With the gun tucked tightly into my shoulder, I placed the crosshairs just above the brisket (front chest) and fired. All that sounded was a clicking noise of a misfire...the freaking gun didn't go off! I ejected that shell and there stood the bear just watching all of this transpire. My second shell caused the gun to roar and I could feel the slight kick up against my shoulder as the bullet sped its way down the barrel towards its target. At that instant the bear went out of my line of sight and was now nowhere to be seen. I checked to make sure the third bullet chambered and was ready to go. The first shells issue was the action didn't close all the way on the 742 Remington Semi-automatic 30-06.

I looked for any movement from the bears direction located somewhere in amongst the blow down tops at the base of the hill. The  woods had become deathly quiet, not even a squirrel could be heard. I continued to sit still for a good 10 minutes which seemed like hours before I could muster the courage to go down and check for any blood and or hair that would be a sure sign that I had actually hit the bear. I hadn't see the bear run off nor run at me.

My prior experience with shooting a bear had been four years earlier of where the bear was over a 275 yards away in the beginning and every shot I fired and hit the bear (all four), caused the bear to actually ran at me. I had heard old-timers say that a wounded bear will run in the direction of the sound that caused it pain. Well that's exactly what that bear did and ended up directly below me in the tree stand and me completely out of bullets. The bear staring directly up at me totally pissed off. Bear 2004

As I closed the gap to 15 yards, I could make out the jet black hair from the bears winter coat just above the tree limb. I checked the action again of the 742 to make sure that it had indeed closed correctly before going any further. I clicked the safety off and started tiptoeing my way closer, trying not to make a sound ( like that is going to happen while walking in 2 plus inches of very dry leaves....sounding like a herd of elephants where coming). I could feel my heart pounding in my chest like it was going to bust out at any moment. I was sure at any moment that the bear would jump to its feet and either charge me or run in the opposite direction....I had to be ready for anything.

As I peered over the log, there laid the bear stretched out in a heap. I stood there and watched the bear for a good 5 minutes to see if he was breathing or not. I was sure the bear was playing dead and holding his breath trying to draw me in even closer to pounce. Deciding on playing it on the safe side, I walked back up the hill and headed over to where my son was sitting on watch not 100 yards away. When I told him of the bear, he said " You have got to be kidding me dad...that was my bear that I was suppose to get a shot at for my birthday" I guess he felt I should have somehow allowed this bear to just walk on past me to his location.....maybe even having me offer the bear a mounds candy bar as he passed.

We headed back to the bears location with the added firepower of my sons rifle and approached the bear from the rear. Robert poked the bear on the backside with the gun barrel to make sure he had indeed expired. I was sure that bear was going to jump to his feet and pull a can of whip-ass on the both of us. Rob flipped the bear over on his back and you could see where the bullet had hit him in the wind pipe severing his spinal cord for an instant harvest.....no late night tracking. As Robert proceeded to dress the bear out, I decided to walk back to get the Polaris Ranger to haul the bear out of the woods. I figured we had about 20 minuets of daylight left and that meowing-bark was still taking place 100 yards deeper into the swap.

Rob felt that this meowing sound was from another bear and laid his gun next to saying he still might get a chance to harvest a bear. My thoughts were...lets get the freaking bear loaded and get the heck out of here before it gets too dark. Trying to get the bear loaded into the ranger was a sight to behold.... My son was trying to do a cross between a  fireman's carry maneuver and a wrestling hold by grabbing the bear behind the front shoulders and trying to heft him onto the box of the ranger.

My son hovers around 6 foot and in the 240 pound weight class. He works as a hired man on a dairy farm where brute force is the norm and it shows by the size of his arms. I figured this should be an easy one for him to just lift the bear up and toss him into the buggy with bench pressing and lifting dairy cows for a living . With hurting my wrist the week before and being disability from a mining accident years before...basically left me to be his cheerleader....all I lacked was the pom-poms and a short skirt.

Rob's face turned beat red from trying to lift the bear. He was finally able to get the head and front paws of the bear started into the box and had me sit on it to hold it to get a better grip. There I was sitting on the bears head as my son got a different grip on the bears backside. He hefted again and the bear was now half in...half out of the buggy. This happened a number of times of where the bear would fall to the ground and having to start all over again with the process.

Rob said "Why don't we just drag it behind the buggy?" Not a chance I returned...we could ruin the hide and a possible bear rug. So here I was sitting on the bears front shoulders trying my best to hold him in place as my son repositioned his grip once again on the bear. This time the veins on Roberts neck were bulging as he lifted once again, but this time the bears butt was on the tailgate.

Finally the bear was in the buggy and we were headed back to camp with it, now having to use the headlights of the Polaris Ranger to see our way out of the woods. This ended up being another great father- son adventure that I wouldn't trade for a million dollars and I hope never happens again!

 

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