Polar Bear Down
I'm back to Pond Inlet and I got my bear, what an adventure! Too many details to include them all, but on with the short story; It was a gray, cold and windy morning, ice crystals were falling, we would call this a light snow in Texas. The visibility was getting worse and was down to less than 100yds. We started this day after waiting awhile for the wind to blow and clear the air for better visibility but my 57 y/o guide Sam, decided it was not going to improve so we left camp. After being on the ice 3 hours or so, searching for tracks, we just finished our break of bannic bread and hot tea/chocolate made from melted blue glacier ice. We came on the boar and a sow before we even saw the tracks. These were the 6th and 7th bears we saw since it was only the 2nd morning of the hunt. The bears split and the 11 dogs pulled the sled with my guide and I on it, over the bumpy ice. My guide kept them on the trail of the boar yelling “ Geee” and “Hohh” that kept them mushing around the pushed up, broken ice, like thread thru an eye of a needle. We lost the second Inuit who was along to help us, we got separated when my guide spotted these 2 bears. I’m holding on to the handle of my soft sided bow case with one hand and on to the dog sled with the other as I sit behind the guide who is keeling on front caribou skins padding the sled. He occasionally cracks his seal skin 50’ whip at a dog off pace, the feeling I have is surreal, as the sled moves along in pursuit of this bear. My Eskimo guide, Sam, says “it is good bear, big bear” in his broken English. Then it happens, the bear stops and turns to face the barking, frenzied dog team held back at 20 yards, the snow anchor pushed into the snow to hold the sled. My guide jumps to his feet and yells, “shoot, shoot”. I am trying to get off the sled, my knees are bent, the sled is low to the ground and I my 7 layers of clothes have me so bound up it’s hard to move. I stand, my fur mittens come off, I’m trying to get my bow out of the padded case and before I can get my outer coat off, remove my optics and camera from around my neck, the bear is off again running away along the same heading as before. We get back on the sled and resumed the chase. My hands are trying to warm back up inside my fur mittens and I’m trying to figure out how to get ready faster to shoot, should I get a second chance. It happened so fast, I am doubting my next chance will give to get enough time to get ready to shoot if I first try and remove my outercoat and apply a bow arm compression sleeve, and pull my face mask off and put on my glasses. Soon, the bear stops again, this time ready to fight, the dogs have stopped our sled 15 yds away. Expected, the guide leaps up and yells, “shoot, shoot” I could not of conceived what was to happen next. I am looking to the left where I plan to step onto the snow and get off the sled and shoot. Looking the ground over for footing, my mind racing, my nerves firing my back and leg muscles into action to stand, the dogs are at the front of the sled, barking and tugging at the sled's harness unable to loose the sled from the snow anchor. I feel my right leg stuck, and I am unable to extend my right knee, my boot top is caught under a sled crossbar and I am struggling to free it. Suddenly, I hear the bears roar, it was like a jet engine, deafening, it seemed to shake the ground it was so loud. I whip my head from left, back to the right, to look where he was and he had leaped from where he was, to a spot in the middle of the dog team! He covered the ground as fast as lightening and had a dog locked in his jaws who was yelping as the bear lifted him over head and then shook him. The dog flew to the end of his tether and fell to the ground. Dogs are attacking the bear on every side, his big paws swinging to bat them away. Just feet from the sled, the bear caused a surge of adrenaline in my blood and I freed my leg from the sled, dropped my mittens, nocked an arrow and drew on the bear. He turned to run back to his original stopping place as my arrow missed the mark and stuck in his front leg. He roared and bit at the shaft and I drew arrow #2. As the bear turned to face us and assess what danger we posed to him, I still had not a clear view of his vitals. My guide yells, he’s dangerous, he’s hurt shoot, shoot. I took the only shot I had and buried the arrow into his right chest, angling into his Left lung. The bear, angry and confused, bit off the unpenetrated portion of the shaft which gave me a second of time to pull a third arrow from my 6 arrow Selway bow quiver. “Not good, not good, shoot again” Sam cry’s out. Arrow number 3 is on the way, despite my bulky coat, camera and optics around my neck, the bowstring clears but my form is not as I practiced. This arrow's 4 blade phantom found the left jugular vein; the bears piercing stare squarely at us, was all I could see. Blood instantly appeared on the boars white coat and was coming out with such force, it began splattering on to the ground. “Don’t shoot my bear, don’t shoot my bear”, I plead, “he’s going down, he’s a dead bear”. I put another arrow on the string and when the bear began to move again, this time towards us as we stood behind the sled, his steps were slow, no lunging, but not he is not yet down. I can’t believe it, do I need to shoot again? “Shoot, shoot” Sam yells. I flub the shot, my 3 fingers under tension against the bottom of the arrow nock, causes the arrow to move off the shelf while I am at full draw. I shift my focus off the bear and onto the arrow now off the bow shelf. I let down, reposition my fingers on the string and draw again. What is happening I ask myself, the arrow moves off the shelf again! I cant my bow but decide to let down again. I do, reposition, and look once again at the bear but fail to pick my spot. My concentration is suffering, The bear is a slow step closer now, the arrow fly’s true to where I am looking, just not where I should have been looking. It lands and sticks in his skull, above the bears left eye, I missed his chest, I tell myself. The bear turns to his right as if to go back to the dog team. Smelling the blood, the dogs are fighting to free themselves and get on the bear but their seal skin leads hold them back, the sled is firmly anchored in the snow. The bear circles to sit, his back to me, I drill him with arrow number 5 between the shoulder blades. He pauses, obviously weak and losing strength fast, he try’s to resume his escape at this point and leave our position. The snow is blood soaked, he steps away and falls to his side and kicks. “He’s dead, he’s dead” I say to Sam. Sam answerer’s back, “bear not dead, I scared, move back away, back, back”. I feel the cold on my R foot, and I look down, to see no Boot! My sock liner and thick wool sock succumb to cold snow and biting wind. I had not noticed till now, I point this out to Sam, “Where your boot?” I said, "beside the sled, it got hung up there and I jerked my foot out of it." Sam cautiously retrieves it and I quickly put it back on. We back up to 40 yards away and all of a sudden the bear stands back up. He turns to face the dogs, he is unsteady on his feet and rocking to keep his balance. He’s broadside now, finally my first motionless view at this area of his vitals. “Do you want me to put one more in him, behind the shoulder?” “ No”, Sam answerers, “it is OK”. The bear steps a few more steps away and goes down with his head on the snow between his front legs. After a long few minutes, he raises his head to look about then turns on his side, his 4 legs extended and kicks his last kicks, we hope. Meanwhile, the dogs have settled, the ice crystals continue to fall and there is still no sign of the Eskimo helper named Caleb. Sam says “you go shoot 1 more arrow in him, if you in danger I shoot” “Now?” I ask. "Yes, you shoot now". I said, “Sam, I don’t want to ruin a bow kill now with a rifle shot? Let’s wait on Caleb and give the bear a while longer.” My guide says, “alright. Where my helper? He supposed to stay behind me, I fire my gun, maybe him come” He points his old, beaten, 22-250 rifle in the air and pulls the trigger, click, he lowers the barrel , looks down at the bolt action, re-aims, and pulls the trigger again, click. Once more, click – our eyes meet, we both smile and laugh and then I hug him and say, “thank you Sam, thank you, we got my bear!” I don’t mention the inoperable gun, we go back to the bear. He takes his whip and I knock another arrow and we approach the bear. He cracks the whip near the bear and we step closer. The bear is motionless. Again, he cracks the whip, this time across the bears head. No motion. Once more across the back and he says, “Bear dead” We measured him, 9’ 2”, “big bear, you like?” beaming I say “ I love this bear man!” The skinning and quartering and rolling the hide passed more time. Caleb still didn’t show. We load the sled and head back to where we first spotted the bear, probably a mile, and there was Caleb. “The ice crystals too much, I not see where you are, I worry for you” The dogs are each given a piece of meat, they wolf it down having not been fed for 2 days which is customary. I also learned on this hunt they are not given water all winter, they just eat snow. Pretty low maintenance. We enjoy another round of bannic bread and hot tea/chocolate and relive the hunt as we tell Caleb the story. Someone who knows how to post the pic, shoot me an email and I will send the pic but please pardon the graphic picture.
[email protected]Thanks for your prayers!
Bryce
Topic: Musk ox down (Read 8256 times)
