I picked my spot, the string came back and the bright chartruese fletch suddenly appeared a little above his elbow. One fast jump and snarl and he was off up the hill. The hit seemed lower than the chosen spot and I wasn't happy with the lack of penetration. Up the hill, I heard some crashing and could see the fletch waving back and forth, but in the same spot. A little more crashing and then it was quiet. Only seconds had actually passed.
Back on the seat, I finally managed to get my shaking under control and hung my bow on its hook. I kept listening hard but didn't hear any more sounds of movement, nor did I hear the moan. Now came the tough part, the wait.
Sitting still and quiet while waiting for your quarry to show is actually rather easy, but after a shot and hit, it can be excruciatingly difficult. Needing to burn some time, I put a new tape in my video camera, ate my candy bar, listened some more, changed the Thermacell pad, and worked on relaxing my breathing and nerves. That lasted for about 20 minutes and I finally gathered up my gear and quietly slipped down to the landing spot on the lake shore. The walk and change of scenery helped settle my nerves, but after 50 minutes, I could stand it no longer and picking up only my bow and flagging tape and flashlight, slowly started back up the hill.
The bear path leading to and from the bait site was easy to see and it wasn't far up it that I found first blood. I flagged the spot and continued along on what became a "stand up" trail. Blood on both sides of the trail told me that I had an exit hole and that made me feel much better. I've never blood trailed where there was lots of birch bark laying around, but I really like it. Only on snow does blood show up better. The optimist in me was hoping to find a dead bear where I had heard the crashing and watched my arrow waving around, but when I got there, all I found was some disturbed plants and spots of blood. The trail led off to the left a bit and I continued on even more slowly, looking and listening more than walking. Funny, I never did think to nock an arrow.
Another fifteen yards or so along the trail I found my arrow, intact. It showed good blood and a wad of hair about ten inches past the broadhead and then was clean, save for a few little specs. I was quite sure I had an exit hole and how this arrow backed out unbroken is still a mystery to me, but I was very happy to find it. I slipped it gently into the quiver, and continued on. The trail entered a small tangle of thick saplings that I had to go around. I picked up the trail on the other side and tied on another flag. I started to move ahead, but then stopped. I think I remembered that this wasn't a whitetail I was trailing and it was now dark enough that I needed the flashlight to see the blood trail. It was time to call it for the night and head back to the pickup spot. I stood for a moment, soaking it in, turned and followed the trail back out.
Leaving an animal overnight is never a comfortable feeling and I was already second guessing whether I should have trailed him at all. Only tomorrow would answer that question however, and I tried to keep it pushed to the back of my head. Thomas would pick up Grant before heading over to get me and it was pretty dark by the time they arrived. The storytelling started immediately and even with my uncertainty, I was smiling on the way back across the lake. Back at camp, we discussed the shot and trail and made plans to finish the trail in the morning.
It wasn't long before Ron came in with his bear, the first for our camp. It was beautiful, and there wouldn't have been more excitement around the truck if it had been a 180 inch buck in the back. Several of us had never been that close to a warm bear before, and just touching it made me shiver. Bowdoc had dinner ready soon and shortly thereafter I was off to bed. Exhaustion is a good sleeping pill and I was asleep quickly.
Morning light came early and once I was awake, there was no going back to sleep. It was another beautiful morning and with some coffee and Cheerios, I was ready to get going. With my level of anticipation, it seemed like everything was going in slow motion. Tommy needed to get the bait ready as he wanted to take it with us when we went to find my bear. Thomas Burns and my travel partner, Fred "Grayfox 54" Gimbel asked to come along and I was happy to have their help. Both are experienced hunters and look pretty strong, too. Us old little guys need all the help we can get when it comes time to drag heavy critters. We got the bait and boat ready and finally headed out.
We went directly to the Raptor landing spot and emptied out of the boat like it was Normandy. I strung my bow and suited up and we were off up the hill. The night had been dry and the blood trail was still clear. We followed it and the flags to where I had stopped the night before and started from there. I followed the trail for a bit before it seemed to just disappear. I was still looking ahead when Thomas, off to my right, said he had blood. We headed in that direction with Thomas first on the trail and as he dropped over a little rise I heard the words, "Here he is!" I ran up the hill and as soon as I got to the top I looked down and saw my bear wedged in some branches. I whooped out loud and went into a happy dance. I must have been holding in more than I thought. He had made it about eighty or ninety yards and maybe twenty past where I stopped the night before. There was no ground shrinkage on this guy for me. We went through the handshaking and backslapping stuff, took some pictures and video of him where he lay and then started the grueling task of getting him down to the lake. We made it to the boat, loaded him on and headed back to camp.
There aren't words to describe how I felt on that boat ride, but most of you know the feelings. Humble, exhilarated, relieved, pumped, and more. Those feelings are all there and the words all fall short. Back at camp, he drew quite a crowd as we got him off the boat and over to the scale. 204 pounds. Eric cleaned him up and helped with getting some great pictures before taking the lead in getting him started toward steaks and a fine rug. Another special part of this bear is the tackle used in taking him. The Okaw Osage Royale longbow was made by my good friend and 25 year hunting partner Chuck Jones, and originally owned by another long time friend and partner, Tuck Williams. The arrow, I put together with a Kerry Gesink compressed cedar shaft and a Glenn Parker Timberwolf broadhead, both of which I've had for many years. This arrow, complete with blood and hair, will be displayed proudly with his skull.
This is a hard tale to bring to an end. The part of me taking a bear is done, but there is so much more to this hunt. The comraderie, teamwork, working the baits, trailing and packing other bears, listening to the loons and wolves, sitting around the campfire, even sweeping the lodge floor and doing dishes are all parts of the experience. I really want to thank Tommy, Lloyd, Eric, Allen and of course, Bowdoc, for the blood and sweat they put into this hunt and the great time and memories they let us take from it. And thanks too, to all my Bear Quest Partners for your help and company. I'm proud to have hunted with each of you.
Rick
Here he is where we found him:
Topic: BEAR QUEST II Spring BEAR HUNT 2 Openings (Read 40446 times)
