SUNDAY: HUNT DAY 4 (FINAL DAY)On Sunday, I woke up hoping this would be the day that the journey toward my first animal with a traditional bow would come to an end. I really believed it might be, and I was excited.
On the drive down the mountain the night before, a nice bear had run out in front of the truck, just about 20 yards away from us. It was exciting to see, and as silly as it sounds, just getting to see one made my trip feel somewhat complete. At the same time, though, seeing a bear cross the road is a lot different than having one walk in front of you during a hunting situation—and that, of course, is what I was really after.
The further we made our way up the mountain that morning, the thicker and thicker the fog got. I knew my visibility today would be hindered even more than it was yesterday—particularly if I sat in the same spot. So I was thinking that I might move further down the trail—further down both in distance and elevation—to the other junction we found, to maybe get out of the thickest of the fog. But that would be a decision I’d make once I got into the woods and analyzed the situation.
After the hour-long climb up the mountain, we made it to my entry point, pulled off the side of the road, and enjoyed our mustard biscuits for one last time. Our hopes were high today, and for good reason—we had located a really good spot to hunt, and that’s where I was headed.
When the color of the sky outside turned just right, I gathered up my gear, received Terry’s wishes of good luck, and headed off in the same direction I had walked yesterday afternoon. As I heard Terry pulling away in my truck, the reality of the situation hit me—this was it. He was coming back for me in a few hours, and my time in Cohutta would be done.
As it turned out, the fog at the second junction spot, further on down the mountain and further on down the trail, turned out to be thicker than it was in the spot I had sat the day before. One glance down the trail told me that. So, I made my way right back to where I had set up the PacSeat the previous afternoon and opened the chair up right there once again. The wind was still good for this location and remained that way for the duration of my final sit.
But the fog was thick—really thick. At times, I’m not sure my visibility was much more than twenty yards. And just like yesterday, this meant being on high alert and doing everything I could to keep from letting my guard down or getting distracted from the task at hand in any way. No looking at the phone. No drifting off into my imagination. No nodding off to sleep.
And, with large drops of water still coming down out of the trees, and the damp ground masking even the sound of my footsteps when I walked in, I knew I wouldn’t be hearing the footfalls of any animals making their way toward me. And so, intense focus and attentiveness were what the situation demanded, which meant that, just like the afternoon before, it was exhausting—exhausting but also exhilarating because I knew at any moment my peripheral vision could pick up some movement that might just be a bear. That’s what I was hoping for anyway.
After about an hour to an hour and a half of sitting still and keeping my head on a swivel, I remembered the tree behind me that I had stood at for about an hour the evening before. While standing at that tree didn’t really help me see the trail out in front of me any better, and only made a potential shot a few yards longer, standing there did allow me to monitor what was going on behind me a bit more easily. So, I decided I might move back there for thirty minutes or so.
As I said, the ground was soft and silent, and I made my way to the tree without alerting anything in the vicinity of my presence. I also assume that animals can’t see through fog any better than we can. So when my back came to rest against the tree, I was certain that I was still the only living creature in the area who knew I was there.
I had probably stood there for ten minutes before I noticed it. And while this is not as exciting as my eyes picking up on a black blur moving through the trees, it still got my heart pumping and turned out to be the highlight of my trip. (I guess it doesn’t take much for me.) But, after standing there for about ten minutes, I glanced down toward my feet and was shocked to see a big pile of fresh—and I mean very, very fresh—bear scat less than a foot from where my left foot was planted. It’s a wonder I didn’t step in it.
Remember, I had stood in this exact location just yesterday evening. And it certainly wasn’t there then. In fact, it couldn’t have been there then—it was WAY too fresh. Later, after seeing the pictures, Terry would suggest that the bear may have even been in there while we were eating our biscuits—that’s how fresh this scat was.
But whether the bear had shown up right after I walked out last night, or whether I bumped it out of the area on my way in that morning, the fact was, Terry and I had scouted out a spot for me to hunt, and a bear had walked, not just by it, but right stinking through it! Literally, one foot from where I had now stood for the past two hunts was a big pile of scat! And not only that, I could see deep tracks in the dirt moving off directly behind the tree I was still leaning against. They were so deep, in fact, that even standing on one foot with all my weight on one heel, I could not bounce up and down and make a print that deep—and I’m not exactly what anyone would call skinny!
Yes, a bear had come through here, and I had just missed it. And, in my book, for my first bear hunt, this was a success. And so, while I knew I probably wasn’t going home with a bear in the back of the truck today—not unless something happened quickly—I
was going home certain that one day I would leave these woods with a bear in my truck. Yes, I could do this. I really could come over here and kill a bear. Heck, if I had another few days, I could probably kill
this bear. And if not this one, another one that was part of the trail maintenance crew on the “Bear Highway” Terry and I had found.
And so, after standing there for a bit longer, happily observing the evidence the bear had left behind, I was satisfied and deemed the trip a total success. I was ready to tell Terry all about it, and I was ready to tell my family all about it too. Yes, it was time to go home. Mission accomplished.
CONCLUSIONIt is no exaggeration when I say that this is a trip I will never forget. Honestly, I kind of need to forget it, at least in some small measure. Because I have been distracted by it all week! And I have stuff to do! It’s like my body is back home, but my heart and mind are still on that mountain. I have wondered about that bear every day. What’s it doing? Has it been back by there? When I return, will it come by and visit again? While I don’t know the answers to those questions about the bear, I do know this—I will be back. If not this year, definitely next year. And I will be back to the “Bear Highway” for sure.
As I said at the beginning of this story, this wasn’t just a great adventure, but the beginning of an ongoing bear-hunting adventure that will last many years. And I can’t wait to share each installment right here with each and every one of you. Thank you for reading. Grace and peace to all of you. And happy hunting!
Thank you, Terry. Glad to call you a friend.
Topic: My Cohutta Bear Hunting Adventure (Read 4676 times)
