An hour into my vigil, something captured my attention. A small branch cracking, a leaf rustling, the sound of a squirrel assuming his perch to my right?….I cannot remember. I slowly turned my head to the right. Through the lush, dense vegetation, I see a dark patch only 2-3 yards below on the path I walked in on. My eyes became more focused and the details of that dark patch were revealed. Hair, long black hair… it was a bear. Big or small, rubbed or full coat, I could not tell. So close but I can only see small, six to eight inch patches of fur through the undergrowth. I soon make out a muzzle, then parted hair on the center of the back. The bear stands at the intersection of the path and the clearing, assessing the surroundings.
After a minute, the bear enters the clearing to my right. As I looked down from 1-2 yards away I could tell it was of good size, wide across the back and the coat was beautiful. I estimated 150-180 pounds and probably a sow. Another bear, about 30-40 lbs smaller, began to enter the clearing on the same path. It let out a rattling bawl, quickly turned a 180, and left crashing through the brush. I quickly shifted my eyes back to the first bear expecting to see a second departure. She was not phased by the second bear’s exit. The 1st bear continued walking the perimeter of the clearing to my right, then sat down, facing me just beyond the crib. A white “V” was revealed on her chest. I studied the bears head, ears were not large but neither tiny. They were not extending upright, more from the side of her head. I made my decision. If given the right opportunity, this would be my first bear.
Soon the bear was back on its feet and slowly approaching the front of the crib from the right, broadside. I began a slow draw as it paralleled the front of the crib. Then, one step to the left and the angle was now wrong. I froze at half draw as she stood quartering to me. In a moment, her attention was turned back to the crib. A broadside shot was again presented. I hit full draw and wait for the near leg to step forward. The bear again turns towards me, more so than before, and then sits facing head on. I hold at full draw with the bear facing a mere 4 yards away. Soon, my muscles tremble. I curl my fingers around the string and hold tightly. I try not to move, but my muscles now shake. Just as I near my limit and will need to let down, the bear looks back to the barrel and gives me the opportunity to move. I let off my draw. A second look back at the crib and it is back on it’s feet and circling back to the face of the barrel. I slowly begin to draw for the third time. Near broadside, only slightly quartering away, she reaches the face of the barrel. In seemingly slow motion, I see the near front leg rise of the ground and extend out toward the barrel.
My full attention became devoted to a small spot directly above a nearly hairless triangle at the armpit. I see nothing else, just that spot. For a breif moment, the world stands still. I hear nothing, I no longer see the bear… just that spot. I don’t recall relaxing my fingers, or even the arrow flight.
The bear lets out a load snarling growl as it rares backward. I see my fletching and arrow wrap protruding from “the spot.” As if shot from a cannon, the bear crashes through the brush exiting the area nearly 3 feet from the base of my tree. I visually follow the sounds of the crashing. I hear a snap (my arrow?) then nothing. No moan was heard. This made me uneasy. I sat and replayed the events over and over. The angle my arrow in relation to the bear seemed odd. She was nearly broadside at the shot. I bit of doubt entered my mind, but there was no question of the arrows entry, or that it was angled forward where it should. Just the angle was to sharply forward. I convinced myself that my Zwickey had lodged in the far leg, changing the shaft's angle as the bear rared up. I scanned the ground from my stand and could see blood. A closer look and I could see blood from point of impact to bear’s departure from the clearing. I climbed down to inspect the trail. The blood was bright red and steady for as far as I could see in the brush, which was only 10 feet. She did not follow a trail, but barreled through some of the thickest brush. Everything looked good, but no moan. After weighing all the evidence, I made the difficult decision not to follow up on the trail. I would give it a few hours or wait until morning.
Nate would not return to pick me up for another 4 hours or more, so I climbed back into the stand. Little did I know that the rest of the evening would prove to be more exciting…
Topic: BEAR QUEST II Spring BEAR HUNT 2 Openings (Read 40438 times)
