Each step across the snow would bring me that much closer to the bear and of course that much closer to detection if I did anything wrong.
My boots just made too much noise on the frozen carpet in front of me.
Quickly I sat down in the wet pine needles, unlacing my boots almost before the seat of my Levi's started absorbing water.
Soon I had stripped off my boots and was back on the snow in my sock feet.
Much better!
My feet were getting pretty cold from the very beginning, but I barely noticed it. I was on the stalk and my blood ran hot in my veins as I focused on the auburn fur that I could still see through the trees ahead.
Briefly I worried about my clothing. Larry and I had come straight from work and I hadn't changed into any camo or even put on my favorite gray hooded sweatshirt.
I'd striped it with a few strokes of dark brown stain one day and it made excellent camo.
Now all that stood between me and the bear was what natural cover I could put between myself and the bruin and moving only when the critter wouldn't see me.
The light tan work shirt seemed ever so bright to me.
Finally I had approached to within 20 yards of the feeding bear. The cover between us provided excellent cover, but also shielded the animal from any possibility of a shot on my behalf.
Suddenly the bear turned from the bait and strode steadilly down the hill toward the trail I was on. I sunk quickly to one knee and raised the bow in preparation for the shot.
The bruin turned it's head in my direction even before it's shoulder had cleared the brush along the edge of the trail.
I froze in place, bow in front of me for cover and trying to will myself invisible.
The bear seemed not to see me and turned away from me. He walked quickly off into the brush on the other side of the trail and at an angle that took him away from me.
There had been too much unpredictable motion to make a shot and I held my position until the bear disappeared in the huckleberry and lodgepole saplings.