Trad Gang
Topic Archives => Memorable Hunts => Topic started by: Gary Norris on May 11, 2008, 08:43:00 PM
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I hope you're ready for another Bear hunt story. This will be a good one. 4 arrows and 4 Black Bear - - What could be better? Well , I won't go there just now, it's Mother's Day.
Charlie Lamb, Russ Ecklund, Tim Taylor and I had been talking about hunting Black Bear in Minnesota for a long time. You'll meet Tim later, he has been a great friend for a long time and he will be telling his part of the hunt. Charlie was sorta over being afraid of the dark and we were ready to try it again after the Canada trip had worn off.
I had wanted to start shooting a long bow and Charlie was making me one for the hunt. It was called the Ozark Hunter Longbow and came in at about 65 lbs.
I started shooting it about 3-4 months before the hunt to give me plenty of time to get used to it. To be real honest with you, I couldn't hit a 5 gallon can at 15 yards with it after a couple of months and I was getting worried. How was I going to tell Charlie that I was afraid to hunt bears with it ?
I called Russ to ask him what to do . He shot one of Charlie's longbows. It was some awful heavy thing that was like pulling a truck spring with a rope on it for a string. He told me to keep shooting and it would just come in. You know, it did. After that I shot longbows for years and they just shoot where you look. I've attached only one picture tonight, There will be plenty more good ones to come. This is to show you how well Lamb shot back then. I'm tossing up nickels for him to shoot. He would hit 3 or 4 out of 5. He still shoots about that good but , has had to go to quarters. Something about his eyes and the sun, etc.
Back to the hunt. Russ had a place in MN and had a nice hunting cabin on it and we decided to get a guy to bait for us and put it together. We would head to Pelican Rapids, MN where Clyde Hoadley had been baiting for us for 5-6 weeks. A little about Clyde or "Griz" as he was called by those who were afraid of him. His idea of baiting was to fill a 30 gallon oil drum full of meat , put it on your shoulders with a strap and carry it off into the woods. I have some good pics of Griz. You'll understand how he could do it. He had a tattoo of a Grizzly bear on his forearm. I guess he liked them. Funny thing is , I felt very safe with him around. I'll let Charlie fill you in on the trip up and we'll go hunting tomorrow night. See ya, Gary
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/ckinslow/PICT1058.jpg)
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Cool! Looking forward to the story! Cheers, Matt
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Cna't wait to hear the rest of this one Gary!
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Sounds good!
Todd
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Well, I don't have a lot to add at this point, but will add a line or two.
I don't remember much about the trip north for this hunt, other than it was long. With good company, though, it was more than tolerable and passed pretty routinely.
The area we would be hunting was far in the northern counties of Minnesota. Baiting restrictions were far more lax in those days as was permit aquisition.
Clyde was a premier bear guide and really new his stuff. He had many bait stations established and most of them were working with multiple bears checking and feasting at the all meat baits.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear7.jpg)
At the time, I had worked for a company that was associated with a bakery for a large retail grocery chain and had aquired 40 or 50 pounds of assorted cakes and other sweets for addition to the baits. Just to sweeten the deal, so to speak.
As was the norm for these group hunts we assembled from all points of the compass. My old friend Russ would haul in from western Wyoming, with the rest of us from Missouri... Gary and Tim from the western part of the state near Kansas City and me from the eastern part of the state.
My memory is a little cloudy on the equiptment particulars, but I know I was using an all osage laminated Hill style longbow of my own manufacture. It was a stiff mother at 70# and it pushed a cedar shaft with big Magnus I along with authority.
Russ and Gary both were shooting one of my longbows. I don't recall what Russ was shooting for broadheads at the time (probably Ace Standards), but I'm almost positive Gary was shooting Pearson Deadheads.
We were all champing at the bit for the hunt to begin.
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Just in case you missed the first installment of this bear hunting tale here is the link to the earlier story.
http://tradgang.com/noncgi/ultimatebb.php?ubb=get_topic;f=1;t=055929;p=1#000000
Chris
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This is going to be good! :coffee:
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Yeah Joe and the really cool part is that it takes Gary longer to write a story than I ever thought it could! ;)
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Maybe a little background of the hunters is in order here.
Many here know me already so I won't bore you with my stats.
Gary and I had met in our first year of college and became almost inseparable... a friendship that lasts to this day.
He already had a background and love of the bow when we first met. That was the bond that nurtured the friendship and still plays a big part in it.
As good as anyone I ever shot with, Gary quickly honed his rudimentory skills to a fine edge. We'd share many adventures along the way.
I remember during one of our almost daily outings in the early days Gary asked what would happen if he shot a broadhead into a tree.
It was easy to see that he was wanting to do that and I figured it would be an important and lasting lesson about the power of the bow.
"Go ahead and do it", I'd said. Pulling the little 40 pound bow to full draw he took quick aim at a nearby oak and let slip.
I wasn't surprised by the result (I'd shot my share of trees at that point), but it was apparent that the lesson had sunk in almost as deeply as that steel blade had.
I'm not sure it took an entire hour to remove the precious broadhead from that oak, but I remember smiling inwardly for quite a while as Gary carved away at the hardwood.
I knew he'd not do that again on purpose and he'd learned a valuable lesson about the power of the bow and broadhead arrow. :D
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Russ Ecklund and I had also met in college. Gary knew him first and my only meeting had been when Russ, a couple years our senior, had consented to buying a six pack for Gary and I. ( we consumed our share of beer in those days of academia).
I guess Russ' first impression of me wasn't favorable as I remember Gary saying something about staying away from him....which I did.
It was to my surprise when in my sophomore year, after Gary's transfer to an out of state college, Russ had showed up one day at my dorm room. He'd developed an interest in bows and arrows and decided to give me a chance. Not to mention learning what he could from me.
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It was the beginning of a long friendship and ultimately led to me moving to the Rocky Mountains.
Russ also proved to be an apt pupil. Strong as a bull and very athletic, Russ was challenged in most physical activities by a slight birth defect.
He'd been born with only a thumb and remnants of the four fingers on his left hand.
He was shooting left handed, when we met,by wrapping his thumb around the string in a kind of strange pinch grip on the string. It did nasty things to arrow flight, but he made do with it none the less.
We spent many hours hunting rabbits on the farms near school and were constant companions.
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As with most of my good friends, Russ had a well developed sense of humor.... with a devilish bent.
I'd learned that on one of our first rabbit hunts as we made a short cut across a well grazed pasture.
Maybe it was the rumbling bellow behind me, or the thunder of heavy hooves on hard packed soil that got my attention first... more than likely it was the fact that Russ had let out a laugh and broke into an all out sprint for the fence.
One thing became apparent very quickly. There were 3 warm bodies in that pasture and I was the slowest of the trio... Russ was fast as lightening in a foot race.
Russ was already standing on the other side of the fence laughing uncontrollably as I made my approach at near light speed, a very large and very angry bull just a few steps off my heels.
I flung my bow toward the brush on the other side of the fence even as I became airborne. The fence was a good one. High and tight! I cleared it with room to spare.
Jerk!!!
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If Russ was the brawn of the group then Tim Taylor was the brains.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear3.jpg)
Tim came along much later in life but soon became an integral part of many outdoor adventures. A consumate hunter and bowman of no mean ability, Tim could organize a hunt while the rest of us sat drooling with our fingers up our collective noses.
We often gave Tim (and still do) grief about his somewhat unorthodox shooting style. Seems he has no qualms about trusting his instincts and will let the arrow go when he knows it's pointed where it needs to be... and it doesn't matter at what point in the draw that happens.
We give him guff, but Tim brings home the bacon. If he shoots at something, it's about to have real bad day.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear4.jpg)
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Great story so far guys...lovin every minute of it. :coffee:
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:coffee:great story... please tell more
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It ought to be a rule that you "more experienced" fellows tell a story or have a thread like this at least once a week.
Thanks so much,
Todd
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I'm going to help this story from a technical stand point only since the photo's are stored on my photobucket account.
Here are some pictures of the individuals listed previously.
Russ.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/ckinslow/PICT1061.jpg)
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear2.jpg)
I'm sure you all can figure this one.
Lamb you look like you were checking the digits out to make sure you hadn't given yourself a Norbert Schulz manicure.....
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear8.jpg)
Chris
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Thanks Chris. Kinda felt like I was the only one writing and to tell the truth, my memories on this hunt are a little hazy.
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Hey all I know is that their were a lot of picture of you guys gutting and cleaning up hides.
That always makes for a good story.
Chris
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Had a few computer glitches tonight, but will get the ball rolling on this story in the morning for sure.
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Can't wait.
Todd
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Ok, have your fun but remember, I still killed two Javies before that manicure even dried...er....healed. :saywhat: Carry on gents!
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Norb... it did improve your release. ;)
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Charlie them coveralls sure do last a long time.Gotta get me some.Kip
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How long after these Photos were BATTRIES and Flashlights invented (http://i35.photobucket.com/albums/d171/IronBull_/Smileys/tongue.gif)
I had no Idea that Russ was ever that young :biglaugh:
Keep a feedin us BOYS!!
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Yeah Kip! When I find something I like. ;) At the time I thought it was pretty cool because most young guys wouldn't be caught dead in a pair of bibs.
Now it's just because they are so dang comfortable and have enough pockets to carry all the stuff that I don't seem to be able to make it through the day without.
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Not sure Vance! Mostly we'd walk around at night bangin two flint rocks together over our heads. Should have patented that concept... guess you could say I invented the disco ball.
:rolleyes:
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This story comes at a time when most bowhunters start thinking of spring activities and for most, bear hunting happens in the as the mushrooms spring forth from hidden lairs, the woods have come alive with the heady scent of flowers and fish begin their annual shallow water rituals.
But this is a fall bear hunting story.
I'm not sure what the rules are now, but at the time it was very legal, though somewhat overlooked, to bait bears.
It was very effective too. With a good lead man like Clyde you could have your baits in the woods in early August and have the bruins conditioned to find food at your bait stations by hunt time in September.
Bear hunting of any sort is never a cinch, but this tactic certainly increased the odds of having multiple bears working a location and for my luck with bears and hunting them, it was as good a plan as any.
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That far northern country of Minnesota was as different as any I've ever hunted. On the edge of what is called "The Great Swamp" it was vast and intimidating in it's sameness.
You could walk off into that country and never come out if you weren't careful and it could be ever so dark and forboding.
We'd quickly established camp, setting up tents for sleeping and reserving the little cabin for cooking and mornings over a hot cup of coffee.
Grouse staked their claim on stretches of trail through birch and conifers. Occasionally you'd catch a glimpse of a white tail disapearing into cover along the edge of a small clearing.
Like most bear hunting over bait, the hunting happened in the afternoon, so often I'd find myself easing through the grassy meadows and dark forest sanctuaries with bow in hand and a judo tipped arrow ready on the string.
Often I reflected on pictures I'd seen of Fred Bear and this country reminded me a lot of those I'd seen of him hunting his beloved northern Michigan. I'm sure he'd have been right at home there.
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I fully expected my time in the woods on stand to be long and uneventful. By this time in my life I'd logged a ton of hours in pursuit of black bears with those very results.
I always kept a positive attitude, but it just never seemed that I was fated to be a world famous bear hunter by any stretch of the imagination.
At that point, I'd spent too much money hunting with outfitters and had nothing to show for it except a collection of adventures with the local insect population wherever I'd hunted.
I'd had success, no doubt and one of my bears had been at the top of the heap for size in the state of Wyoming, but I'd done those hunts on my own. It did make it that much sweeter, no doubt, but I had more ass time in a tree over rotten animal parts than I cared to remember for the few sightings I'd had.
Of course it's always better sitting on a western mountainside or tucked away in some northern swamp than stuck in an asphalt jungle somewhere. Trust me! I've spent my share of time in both.
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My stand was pretty much like every other bear stand I'd been in... only the scenery changes.
I seem to recall that it was about 10 feet from the ground to platform and that it had a seat that was much closer to being a surgical instrument than an object of comfort. At least it kept me alert!
The brush around the stand/bait site was tight and there'd be little warning of an approaching bear. I'd come to expect that of bear stands. That'll keep you alert as well.
Beyond the bait the timber grew dark and ominous. Great forest monarchs fought each other for light and heavy green moss spread up their trunks threatening to drag them back down into the darkness.
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It was early in the hunt... first or second night... that my opportunity came. I doubt it was the first night. Nothing ever happens for me on the first night!
Russ and Clyde had other fish to fry. They'd driven me to my drop off point and then walked me into the stand.
It was a bear hunters trick. Three walk in to the bait making a little racket along the way. Freshen the bait with some scraps and bang on the bucket to let the bears know what was going on.... Clyde had followed this very procedure each and every time he'd baited all the baits.
It's a Pavlov's dogs thing.
Then with no attempt at being quiet they'd wished me luck and headed back to the truck. Three in and two out... bears can't count that well.
They intended to head back to camp and change clothes for a trip to town.
The sound of the truck had barely faded in the distance when a flash of black in the brush nearby caught my attention.
In disbelief I watched as a smallish bear eased out of the cover and strode boldly over to the bait pile.
He wasted no time cleaning up the big sheet cake I'd topped it with while I assessed his trophy potential.
Too small! I'd let him eat and go about his business.
Soon he'd finished the sweets and took a chunk of meat from the pile. He would retreat to cover to savor this morsel.
He didn't go far and I could just make out his black hide 30 yards out in the brush. Soon he finished that snack and returned for another.
He repeated that twice, but I lost sight of him those times. I was starting to be convinced it was a larger bear than had originally come in... but I knew it wasn't.
I was beginning to want this bear and each trip to the bait go harder to take.
Finally my greed got the better of me and I stood up when I saw him coming back for even more yummy stuff.
I had "Yellow Girl" firmly in hand and a cedar arrow lay across the leather rest. The edge of the Magnus I gleamed from recent honing back at camp. It fairly talked to me. "Shoot the bear, shoot the bear".
I listened intently!
The bait was very close so when the bear reached it he was as much under me as he was out in front of me.
I waited for him to turn broadside and drew the 70 pound osage longbow into a long arc.
I learned a long time ago not to fight the feeling, so when my middle finger touched the corner of my mouth that little man in my head made my fingers open and let the arrows slip away.
In a flash I saw it bury to mid shaft and the bear bolted out of the clearing toward the deepest, darkest, most moss covered part of the forest.
The arrow, which I'd so confidently released, now banged on brush and flagged like some weird, feathered periscope for the instant or two the bear remained in sight.
Then all was quiet and I was left alone with my insecurities.
I had no idea what had happened, but I didn't like the looks of what I'd seen. That arrow should have stuck in the ground on the other side of the bear.
Now my imagination had it barely poking through is black hide. I hate the feeling.
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With nothing else to do but wait, I climbed from my perch and headed out to the road.
Russ and Clyde were scheduled to pick me up after dark, so I might just as well head back to camp. It would be a long walk, but the bear needed time.
I'd no sooner stepped out into the road than I could hear a vehicle approaching. Turned out to be Russ and Clyde heading for town.
I don't know what they thought I was doing, but I'm sure they didn't think I'd shot a bear already.
When I told them what had happened they were all about going in to look for the bruin.
They were both dressed way too nice for tracking wounded bears, but I figured that was up to them. We made the short walk to the bait.
I'd looked for a blood trail before I left the woods and had found one. We went immediately to it.
Much more than what I would have expected from a high hit with no exit, the trail led off into the spooky places in great crimson splashes. There was no problem seeing the trail from 5 or even 10 yards in some places.
We'd barely gotten out of sight of the stand when there in the moss at the base of a huge fallen tree lay my bear. He'd been dead in seconds after the hit.
A post mortem exam would reveal that the big broadhead had sliced down alongside the spine, shearing away bone and lodging in the heart but missing the spinal chord.... or he'd have dropped on the spot.
There was much laughing and backslapping with several finger crunching handshakes from both my excited duddies. We live for moments like those, don't we?
About the time we were calming down, Clyde's testosterone levels must have been spiking. He declared he'd carry the bear out on his back, whole with innards in tact.
I questioned the wisdom of that, but let what was gonna happen, happen. I knew these guys and there would be no denying an expression of there vitality and maleness.
So I watched as Clyde, with a little help from Russ and respendant in his best jeans, clean shirt and a spanking new satin windbreaker, hoisted the bear over a brawny shoulder.
The only way to manage a dead bear like that is to put his back on your shoulder. As the bear settled in place the gaping hole made by the big Magnus released the contents of a blood filled chest cavity and drenched Clyde from head to toe.
Nothing was said at the time, but it was obvious Clyde was having a "hears your sign" moment.
Like a trooper, Clyde carried the bear all the way to the truck without uttering a single complaint.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/yellowgirlnbear.jpg)
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Originally posted by Charlie Lamb:
Beyond the bait the timber grew dark and ominous. Great forest monarchs fought each other for light and heavy green moss spread up their trunks threatening to drag them back down into the darkness.
And that right there ladies and gents, is the way a story is TOLD.... :readit:
Truly wonderful writing Charlie, fantastic imagery.
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You turn a fine phrase Charlie!
:clapper:
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"And that right there ladies and gents, is the way a story is TOLD.... "
JC.....It's TOLT.......Where's yer bringin up at? :goldtooth:
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J.C. you beat me to it.Always loved Charlies writing,don't know why he doesn't do it for a living.Good job Charlie keep it up.Kip
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Charlie, Great story, how long is that bow? Do you ever shoot the longbows any more? Greg
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I can see it's about time to start my evening story telling.
Charlie was right, it was thick in those woods. I thought Canada timber was dark. Clyde made sure that we were aware that Grouse hunters are lost and never found every year in there.
I'm going to start my part of the hunt and then take a break so Lamb can get the pictures ready. My first day on the stand wasn't much. I didn't see anything except a 10' by 10' clearing that looked like it had been the center of a Bull Fight. Charlie mentioned that Griz had been baiting for about 5-6 weeks and the bears had torn the place up. It was so close in there that I could'nt see anything past the clearing.
Truth Is, I left early ! No body knew that until now. I got back to camp and Lamb already had a bear.
Russ and Clyde had scoped out another bait and said I was moving tomorrow.
I'll be back with my hunt later with plenty of pics.
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I just read through some of the posts and it a pleasure to read some of the comments. Charlie does have a way with words and he does put you there with him. He does tell a story the way it should be told and for those of you that don't know Charlie and me and the guys we hunt with.
It is enough just to be there.
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Continuing on.....
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I think Charlie and I have the photos worked out so , Let's hunt another Bear.
The next morning was a little slow. We stayed in camp and shot the bull along with a few arrows to pass the time. Before we knew it , it was time to go.
Russ and Clyde took me to the new bait area because they said it was active. We pulled off the main road and headed down a logging trail to the path that led into the tall timber. You know, timber that is like sky scrapers standing together forever.
Russ got the bait barrel ready and stood back so Clyde could get under it. I have no idea what that thing weighed but it didn't appear that even Russ wanted any part of it. When we got to the bear area, I could'nt believe how torn up everything was. Trees were chewed off and the ground was bear. Just the place I wanted to spend several hours until black as hell dark. And I would be by myself. Oh yeah, I had my bow and arrows. Then I remebered how little that arrow looked the last time I hunted Bear.
As Cldye banged around on the barrel, I could only imagine the bears laying out in the darkness of midday, waiting to come in to see what was for dinner.
Now, just where is the tree stand. Clyge forgot to tell me that there was'nt one. There was a pine tree that he really liked though. With a hand axe Russ cut off a few limbs and made a place for me to stand about 5 feet up. That's right, head high to a big bear
Just before they left , Russ pointed out some Bear tracks that were bigger than my hand.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear1.jpg)
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I really can't remember how long I stood there. I just remember trying to break all of the limbs that I thought would give my longbow any trouble. There was only one shot anyway and that was straight out and to the left at about 10 yards. No Problem, right.
Have you ever been in the timber when it was so quiet that it hurt your ears ? The smallest of birds sound like jet fighters flying over the start of a football game. That is how it was.
The small snap of a twig sounded like a tree falling. Actually, I thought it was a tree falling this time. I turned my head around as far as I could and looked back through the pine tree I was standing in. Behind me was a large dry lake bed full of light yellow swamp grass. It was neat looking especially with that giant Bear head sticking up out of it.
If I said it once, I said it tweny times,
"Damn is that a BIG BEAR" I know we are all big and tough and not afraid of nothing, This Bear scared the hell out of me. Remember, I'm not up in a tree, I'm standing on a limb not much higher than he is. I know many of you will agree with this - I can still see that Bear in my mind and the hair on my neck is standing up like it was at that moment. I knew I only had one shot and there was no need to look at the Bear. Actually, I didn't want to look at him !! After he tore down that tree and made all of the noise, he was very quiet. ( Russ said they make a lot of noise so the little bears will leave)
This is the time when your hours and hours of picking a spot, picking the right arrow to shoot 1st, you know the one with the little mark on the nock, and your instincts take over. This is what non - hunters don't understand and never will. This is it! Can you match your skill with an animal that is big enough that it isn't even concerned about you ?
The big guy came in slow from the left and circled to below my tree and stood there. This is the 2nd time a bear has done this to me. After he looked around for what seemed to be an hour he made his way through the thick brush and came into the opening. My Ozark Hunter had been at 1/2 draw for some time , ready to do it's job.
I needed to do mine. There was the shot, the big right arm reached over the bait to get a chunk and exposed the entire right chest cavity. Like so many times before, the arrow was on it's way before I had time to think. It hit at a perfect angle into the rib cage and ripped through to the left shoulder. A few seconds later it was over. The arrow went to full penetration. The huge right leg snapped off the feathered end when it came back and the left leg broke off the Ben Pearson Deadhead on it's first move. The biggest Bear I had ever seen took 3 jumps and piled up. Thanks to a well made bow, a straight flying arrow and some help from above, my Bear was down.
He was down right in front of me and I was really nervous about getting out of that tree.
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I did manage to get my wits about me and get down. I didn't go look at the bear. I knew he was down and I knew he was big. I would wait until I had help.
I made my way to the road and waited for the truck.
Just before dark Russ and Clyde pulled up . I put my gear in the back and got in. As I remember we had a cold one on the way back.
The conversation went a little like this:
Russ - You came out kinda early didn't you.
Gary - Well it was dark in there and I could't see anything anyway.
Cldye was rolling along pretty good at this point down that old road and he said - Did you see anything?
Gary - yea, I saw a big bear.
Russ, How big ?
Gary - Biggest Bear I have ever seen.
Russ - What the hell happened ?
Gary - He came in from behind and then into the bait.
Clyde had been gaining speed up until now and he was watching and listening and really not paying attention to the road.
Russ, What did you do ?
Gary - I shot him.
The flatbed dually is now sliding sideways to a stop. Those cold ones are all over us. I thought Russ was going to choke me.
Did you kill him ?
Yeah , I saw him go down. We'll need help to get him. I filled them in on the whole story .
They agreed that we would go back to get help and see how the other guys did. We also agreed that I would tell the story just as I had told them.
Then Russ told me something that would come up much later.
"Pay Backs are Hell"
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear12.jpg)
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Wonderfull!
Two awesome hunts!
Thanks so much for sharing!
Todd
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I've got the same picture as Charlie that is just a little clearer.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/ckinslow/PICT1054.jpg)
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The whole gang of us ended up out there with Gary and his bear. It was exciting as hell and Gary's level of excitement was off the chart... that's always infectious.
We snapped a bunch of photos that night.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear13.jpg)
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear11.jpg)
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I'm wiped.... cont.
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Can't sleep, looks like the power is out...check on the computer.
Can't sleep...edge of my seat,
What a mess of great writing! Wonderful stories, well-told, and I really oughta be snoring but just can't bring myself to break it off until every word is read.
Thanks for the insomnia!
Killdeer
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Great stories and pics guys! Thanks for sharing! ;) :thumbsup:
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Very cool Gary! Really appreciate you taking the time to write for us. Charlie speaks very highly of you, and that's saying something to me. Hope we get to hear more of your stories here...I'm sure you've got a whole book waiting to be written.
Loved your pic, I killed my first bear last year with a Deadhead. (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v701/recurvhuntr/Quebec%20Quest%202007/Picture051.jpg)
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This right here is "The Best of Trad Gang"! Cup of coffee first thing in the morning, and a great story to read as told by the Masters!
I love it!
Your stories help bring my own memories of fall bear hunts come flooding back - what wonderful times those were! Black bears are made for bowhunters, sharing camps, stories, and good times. Thanks for taking us along on your adventure!
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JC,
Thanks for the comments. I'm glad to see another deadhead do it's job. I used to shoot them all the time and kinda got away from them. I'm going back to the Deadhead this fall for Elk. I had to drop down in weight on my bow since I had my right shoulder replaced and I think the big 2 blade will work well. I'm lucky to have Lamb as a friend. He can keep making me bows as I need them. By the way, check out the take down long bow he made on the St. Jude's auction. It needs a good home.
Better get back to the bear hunt.
When Russ , Clyde and I got back to the camp, Tim Taylor was drinking a victory beer. He had killed a nice bear that evening ,too. We had alot of work to do and it was late already. The weather was still pretty warm and we would need to butcher the bears tonight. I'll let Tim tell about his bear.
This hunt took place in about 1986 so my mind is a little cloudy. I believe Walt killed his bear the next day. Walt was a friend of Russ's that came with him. He was a nice guy and fit in well. He hadn't done much of this hunting before and I think he was a little amazed at it and the success we were having. I couldn't force myself to tell him that this wasn't really normal. This was possibly a once in a lifetime thing.
What I do remember about his bear is this :
Did you get a good hit on him ?
Ah, yeah, ah, I think so !
When we went after Walt's bear it was pitch black in the timber. We used pieces of toilet paper to mark our trail because we were afraid we would get lost. We used lanterns for light so we could see the blood trail. Down on our hands and knees following a wounded bear through the brush. How smart was that ? Oh, We had Russ behind us with a shotgun and double OO buck in it. I told Russ that if the bear got me ---- Shoot Me.
All at once we hear this scream. Walt had literally crawled right into the dead bear in the dark. It was another nice bear.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear19.jpg)
We had just finished a fantastic hunt. 4 Bears with 4 arrows. What a hunt !
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(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear14.jpg)
Most often, hunts come back in our memories more as random thoughts than a streaming video of the entire sequence of events.
I guess the old hard drive only has so much space, so it keeps the best files and tucks away the less important stuff.
At least that's the way my mind works and I won't insult anyone by suggesting theirs is the same. LOL
Here's a few thoughts from that hunt.
I think it was the evening that Gary shot his bear... I had prepared supper for the crew. Everyone else was on stand, so I set about making this huge pot of spagetti complete with garlic bread.
I had it timed just right so it would be hot and fresh when the hunters came straggling out of the woods.
I should have known not to count on pefect timing as it concerns bear hunters.
When the guys rolled into camp there was a flurry of activity and we were all on our way back to get the bear.
By the time we returned, the nice fresh pot of spagetti had been transformed into a cold, gelatious lump of tomato flavored glue.
Most of the guys were gracious about it, but I couldn't stomach it myself and was a little disappointed.
As I recall, the bread was O.K.
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My bear, being younger and the first in camp, became the target of a number of meals that week.
I salvaged the hams and later had a friend cure and smoke them. I'd always been told you could treat them just like pork.... well, not quite the same, but close for a while.
I ate it for breakfast meat for quite a while and it was more like salt pork/bacon than anything. Pretty good stuff at first, but as it "aged" the flavor became very bear like and not all that pleasant.
The back straps went first in camp and they were great! Just like any other back strap with a flavor more like beef than deer.
The shoulders provided some great eating as well.
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After the picture taking of Gary's bear was done and it was time to get him out of there, there was a little confusion getting started.
As I recall, we'd all pretty much done the pack string thing going into the woods....nose to tail and not paying any attention to our surrondings.
When we started to leave someone said," which way is the truck?" Like something out of a Three Stooges routine, half a dozen fingers pointed off into the darkness in a half a dozen different directions.
After a little "discussion" we got lined out and got that heavy bugger started toward the truck.
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I'm going to post these pictures so the guys can tell a little more about them.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/ckinslow/hunt001.jpg)
I'm guessing the camera angle may have contributed to the size differential between the two bear...right? You know how those old camera distorted things pretty bad.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/ckinslow/gary020.jpg)
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(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/ckinslow/gary012.jpg)
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(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/ckinslow/gary021-1.jpg)
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/ckinslow/PICT1045.jpg)
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Really Great!
Thanks,
Todd
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Thanks for the pics Chris! Must have been some kind of distortion for Gary's bear to have come out looking so big.... o.k. so it was an honest to goodness 350-400# bear.
Mine made a much nicer wallet!
That picture of Tim is a classic. A habit I've made of different places I've hunted is to leave an arrow as a memorial/good luck piece in hopes of returning to see it one day.
In this case we all shot one into the rafters of the cabin and signed each with a majic marker. If memory serves, Russ missed the rafter and shot the arrow up through the roofing. LOL
Never have been back there.
Is Gary coming back to tell "the rest of the story"?
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" The Rest of the Story" Sorry that it has taken a few days to get this story told. I hope we haven't lost too many readers. Taylor was going to tell his part of the hunt but, he is in Florida with his family so I'll finish up.
Tim did kill a nice bear with a nice shot that put him down in a short distance. We went back to have Tim "relive " the moment and we almost got lost getting out of there.
Charlie mentioned that Russ had a great sense of humor. I assume the Rest of the Story was Russ' doing. In the first story Charlie also mentioned that Russ left us a few years ago. Please let me take just a moment to reflect on a "Good Man"
It would be nice for some one to say that about all of us. It really says it all. Russ wasn't perfect , far from it. But , he was a good man. He left us watching Elk on a far mountain with his wife at his side in the Jeep. In an instant he was gone. Just like all of us want to go.
"
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The time to leave comes to us all Gary. What more can a man ask for than to leave good memories in his freinds hearts?
Thank you for the story gentlemen. It prompted me to dust off a few of the old alblums and take a few trips back down memory lane. Priceless........
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It is all we can ask. I guess that's why we tell stories and remember the times we had with good friends.
I'm sure Russ was thinking of how to get back at me from that moment on. We had the best hunt you could imagine and then we headed home. Just before we left at the main road, Russ had to close the gait. Russ stopped and took a chain saw out of the truck and cut a huge tree down. He dropped it right across his driveway. I guess that did it.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Minnbear5.jpg)
We all took our skins to have them tanned and Taylor was to take care of mine when he did his. We planned to meet in the winter for a weekend in Missouri to hunt rabbits or whatever at the hunting club I owned at that time. We made a date and it was going to be great. Steaks, beer and good times.
My hide seemed to always have a problem according to Taylor. Well, it should be done by the time we get together. The weekend came and sure enough Taylor would pick up my Bear rug and deliver it at the steak dinner. The guys all got there. Russ came all the way from WY. Said he hated to miss a free steak and beer even if he did have to drive 29 hours to get it.
I had to guide all day so the guys were getting everything ready for the steak fry when I came in . We drank a few beers, told stories and sat down to a nice dinner.
Taylor had almost forgotten that he brought my tanned Bear rug. In case you forgot the size of my bear, go back and take a look now. Tim went to his truck and brought in my trophy. The biggest Black Bear I had ever seen was handed to me in a box that was about 12" X 12 " I couldn't believe my eyes. I asked what the deal was and Tim explained that the taxidermist had a little trouble with it and it kinda dried out. He was sure he could stretch it out for me. As I pulled it out of the box, Damn I broke one of the ears off ! By this time I am down on the floor with tears in my eyes trying to unfold this dried up piece of coyote size bear skin.. I had done a better job than this on several deer skins. I just couldn't believe Tim had let this happen. There wasn't any stretching that would fix this.
I also couldn't believe these friends of mine were actually laughing !! I looked up from the floor and the beers were held high.
"Pay Backs can be Hell" That was Russ. I have thought of that time as one of my fondest memories. Not the great hunt, but the great joke that all of my friends played on me.
Thanks Again to all of you.
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Greg Dwyer... sorry I didn't answer your question earlier.
The bows I made at that time were all 68" long with an occasional 66" bow for shorter draw archers.
I still like them pretty long. My favorite longbow is an all bamboo glass backed bow called "Crow Wing". It's 67"... bobbed it to get more weight.
I don't shoot longbows much any more. From time to time I'll string one up and shoot it, but mostly I love my recurves.
Here's a pic from a few years back. Hog hunting with my buddy Joe "JC" Coots.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/JCmeandhog.jpg)
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Gary... yep, that was one of the all time great jokes. I had my hand in on that one as well and loved watching you sweat!
Since this has turned into a bit of a tribute to a good friend let me remind everyone reading this to draw your friends close and love them like the brothers that they are.
Life is fleeting at best and times spent with buddies are precious. They are family after all.
I could go on and on about the adventures Russ and I had together in the rabbit patches of Missouri or off in the wilderness of the Wyoming Rockies.
Like bear encounters up Spring Creek, or chasing elk in the pole patches up on Black Mountain, or the time we nearly got caught by hypothermia hunting moose up Willow Creek.
I'll save those stories for another time and leave you with this picture of a dear friend at his peak.
(http://www.tradgang.com/upload/charlie/Russelk1.jpg)
"Some folks say he died up there. Some folks say he never will."
We'll hunt again one day old friend.
:campfire:
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Very Nice, Lamb