So sun morning I was up early, the boys wanted to come and I figured why not, the bear was dead and it would be a short trail. I told them to stay in the truck while Dad and I took up the trail. I would come and get them when we found the bear. The trail was good to great. Blood every five feet and good blood. The only thing was I wasn't seeing lung blood, but it was spraying. We followed the trail for a few hundred yards, all the while I'm starting to get worried. If i hit this bear behind the shoulder, at a quartering away It should have hit both lungs, but for sure one. A one lung is not good, but it was leaving a good blood trail. So my hopes where high.
About an hour and a half later and a quarter mile, I was really getting worried. All the bad thoughts started flooding my mind. I told my Dad I was going to get help. He stayed on the track while I went to get my new found friend.
I had met him a couple days before and we hit it off.
I told the boys to hang tight and we returned to the track. Dad had picked up more blood and we continued.
For three more hours we followed a good to sparse blood trail. I couldn't believe this bear had gone this far and lost so much blood and wasn't dead. I always seem to shoot the representative of the species I'm hunting that has the unbelievable will to live. And this seemed to be the case again. I asked my Dad if he would head back to the truck and take the boys home. I feared the worst. He, being the awesome guy that he is, headed them back home. It was at this time I really had to keep my composure. There was a real risk of losing this bear, I couldn't believe we had tracked it this far, but I knew the odds were stacked against me. I even had the thoughts of giving up hunting with a longbow. If you recall I lost a bull elk last year. I couldn't keep from thinking about giving up for good. But I had to give this bear a little more effort, we still had blood.
Jared, my buddy, and I stayed on the track. I was having a hard time keeping my focus and not giving up. I was told stranger things have happened, and not give up. I hadn't all hunt, and this was no different.
We had gone about three miles, and it was about three, when we spotted buzzards circling a half mile away. That had to be my bear!! We headed to the spot as fast as we could. Dad wasn't back yet, but we needed to see if this was my bear.
We were in a deep canyon and a small creek ran through it. There was a trail next to it, and we headed up. I know it was a risk to abondon the blood trail, but we had to try.
We startedd up the creek, quickly but quietly. I tryed to find the birds, but they had left. We picked the brush apart where we had last seen the birds. There I saw it, the same splash of tan i had seen the night before. I crept up the trail with an arrow nocked, and there across the bank was a cinamon bear!! I needed to make sure it was my bear. It took a step, and there was the blood on the leg. I don't remember draw or letting go. I only remember picking a spot and seeing my arrow hit the exact spot. The bear turned, then tipped over into the creek!!
I was overjoyed. I jumped up yelled and high fived Jared. I couldn't believe it!! after three miles we had found my bear and got him!! ( A note to all the guys I sent pics to already, I thought it was 5 miles, but after checking the GPS it was more like 3 but felt like 10!!)
(another note video now up on page ten)