I found out that the days pass quickly at camp; baiting sites, checking cameras, maybe an occasional nap, and at 1530 it was back in the truck towards Resurrection. The day had gotten rainy and my luck took a quick break when I reached the site to find out I had left my pack with my thermacell (among less important things like headlamp, orange vest, water) back at camp. The 14 mile trip took 45 minutes each way and it was almost 1800 by the time I walked into my stand. Things got back to exciting though when I saw a bear at the site as I walked in. I dropped down, strung my bow, nocked an arrow, and waited for it to move into the open only to find a juvenile. Maybe the same one from the night before? I didn’t have time for this, so I just stood up and walked in. He couldn’t care less. At about 15 yards we had a face off.
At about 7 he finally went up a tree and I finished up with my rebaiting and got situated in the stand. Note, these are all cell phone pics, limited zoom.
He came right over as soon as I was off the ground and picked out the best pieces before waddling off. A couple more bears came in, as did a couple heavy showers that didn’t seem so bad under the trees. About 2030 a nice bear came in after a break and caught me sitting there with my bow hanging off to the right and slurping down some Gatorade. I was trying to decide if he was big enough to be a shooter and how I was going to swap the Gatorade bottle for a bow, when he ran off and right behind him was a bear that didn’t need any contemplation. He was significantly taller and had a lope to his movement that just screamed “shooter” to me. It wasn’t the big bear from the night before, but might have been that medium one?
He seemed nervous, always looking around, backing up, circling around. Meanwhile I slowly shifted so that I could slip the bottle into my pack behind me, only managing to move a couple inches at a time before he looked all around again. Then back the other way to try to get my bow. This process seemed to last forever. Finally he put his head in the barrel for a moment and I pulled the bow back in front of me and started to shift for a sitting shot to my left. He came out of the barrel and circled around a couple trees before coming to stand broadside in front of the barrel. I had tension on the string, but he was looking all around again. Finally, he looked away almost like he was sticking his head around into the barrel while standing in front of it if that makes sense. I figured it was time to see if I could come back to full draw and as I did, he reached forward with his nearside leg. I remember verifying I was at full draw. I remember picking a spot. And I remember thinking back tension and pulling my scapula towards my spine. I don’t remember actually shooting. I do remember those chartreuse feathers going right where I was focused on the bear. And then the bear running away to my left. I visually marked where I saw him disappear and then heard some sticks breaking. I looked back to the barrel and saw my arrow sticking out of the ground and my heart jumped when I realized I had a pass through. Then three death moans. Less than 60 seconds had passed, if even 30 it seemed. Watch said 2054, shot must have been 2053.
I packed up my stuff and went to look at my arrow. All good there. So before last light left for the evening, I headed off over the rise to where I thought my bear was. I missed by about 15 yards, but he wasn’t hard to find. I took a few pictures, rolled him over to check my exit wound, and headed back to camp. It all seemed so surreal.
I didn’t want to be that overexcited new hunter, so when I got back and people asked me what I saw I told them about the little sucker I had a standoff with at first and how I saw 4 different bears that I didn't shoot. John yelled at me, “Why don’t you just shoot one already!?” And then I found out about the blue barrel as I ate dinner. Once finished, I caught people by surprise when I asked if anyone was up for a drive. I had 3 volunteers and I made my third trip back to Resurrection that evening to get my bear.
The next morning we weighed him in at 158#. He was kind of skinny, if very long legged. There was very little fat on him when we skinned him out compared to Dale and Brian’s bears. But he managed to hold on to the biggest bear title until the early hours of Saturday morning when Tom brought in a fat little sow 10# heavier (but I still contend mine was bigger in stature…)
I won’t drag out the story with the details of the rest of the week, I’ve already gone on and on. But suffice it to say the company was great, and Tom really goes out of his way to make sure everyone is well fed and has a chance to be successful. The week was truly memorable, and in the best kind of way!