Continued from page 51
Going off of memory, I think I put in 13 hours at the Long Trail and during that time I saw one small bear that approached the bait on the trail that I walked in on. I was in the stand leaning against the tree as the bear was coming in from behind. Being unaware of its presents I moved my foot and the bear spooked off the trail and into the timber blowing all the way…game over.
The Glove was a stand that I had only heard its name being said. I had never been to it or remember any stories about it. Tom told me it is the furthest stand to the north of our camp. The Glove had not been hunted so far because part of the road north of camp had been closed due to the fires burning 50 miles north of there.
After baiting the Black Label, Roller Coaster and 41 we (Paul, Darrel and I) turned off the main road into a secluded parking area that would lead us to The Glove. From this point on my pictures run a little thin. I didn’t take any pictures of my stand setup or the area that surrounds The Glove.
The Glove got its name because a glove was found hanging in a tree next to the trail that leads to the crib. When we got to the crib we saw that the donuts had been hit a little and the meat was all cleaned out. Paul’s reply was “the bears that are coming here are meat eaters.” With the help of Paul and Darrel, the site is quickly baited, the stand was hung and the background cover was rearranged for me a left handed shooter and trail camera were set. I climbed into the stand, cleared out any obstacles that may interfere with my shot, visualize myself making a shot from different angles and admire the view from my new perch. Perfect! I had confidence in The Glove. With everything set we quickly exited and headed back to camp.
Around 4:15 I’m dropped off at that secluded parking area and wish my hunting partners good luck before we part ways. As I quietly walk down the narrow two track I hear the fading rumble of the gravel road as Paul’s truck puts distance between us. Quickly the rumble is gone and the only sounds around me are those of nature. I leave the two track and pick up a newly made trail through chest high weeds. If I hadn’t been shown this trail I would have never known it was there. The weedy trail is short and it leads me to a small dark opening into the spruce forest.
With awareness I cautiously peek through the darken doorway and then let the shadows consume me leaving the radiant warmth of the sun behind. The trail angled away from the forest’s edge taking me deeper into the bear woods where shadows, tree trunks and deadfall control the landscape with a ceiling of spruce branches above that occasionally allows sunlight to slip through. Walking on the trail is like walking on foam. Centuries of decaying spruce trees and the needles they drop make up the padded forest floor that is carpeted in a thick layer of green and yellow green moss. Walking silently is easily done on the trail that reveals itself as depression on the forest floor. While walking can be silent a stumble or heavily placed footfall could send a vibrating thud that can easily be heard through the forest air and felt through the forest floor. So being aware of ones foot placement is still very essential.
After a hundred feet or so I see the crib ahead. I stopped and examined the crib from afar looking for a black form or any movement in the crib or in the forest around it. Confirming that the coast was clear I push forward continuing to scan the surrounding forest for any approaching bears or bears that may be lying down in the immediate area. Confident that I was alone I approach the end of the trail.
The trail I was on ended at the opening of the crib. The surrounding beauty of the forest is interrupted by the man made mess of the crib. This is the only downfall to spring time bear hunting and one must overlook this part of the hunt and the smells that accompany it and concentrate on the excitement of the task at hand. I looked around to see if any of the bait that was put out earlier in the day had been touched and saw that nothing was missing. Following the advice of Barry, I put out several small piles of bait outside of the crib when we came in to bait that morning. By doing this it offers the bears a variety of places to feed and get comfortable and offers me a variety of possible shot opportunities. The multiple bait piles also opens the area up for multiple bears to feed.
After a few minutes of trying to get organized, I finally was settled in. So there I sat. The view was exactly what I wanted. I positioned the stand so that the bait was to my right (NNE) and I faced west. To the south, my left, and to the west and northwest the vegetation grew low and dense, but the rest of the area around was open enough to allow me to see 50 or 60 yards into the timber. The bait site set on a small plateau that stretched out behind the crib to the northeast for several yards. From the plateau the terrain rose to the west and dropped off to the northeast and east where it connected into a live stream.
The temperature was pleasant, I wore a long sleeve shirt and knew by evening I would need a sweater to keep the cool air at bay. Somewhere to my north chaos was erupting. On our trip to my stand the distant views were shrouded behind a hazy curtain of blue smoke and the low areas were blanketed with what appeared to be an all day fog. As I set my stand fine partials of gray ash rained down on me and the smell of the smoldering wood filled my nose. The forest was burning somewhere in the distance and the refuse of its energy was being deposited around me.
Time ticked away. The wind was out of the west and blew my scent to the road. This was a good thing for hunting but hell for me. My stand was about 5.5’ off the ground and about 10’ away from a full bucket of brown fish chowder that hung about 10’ above the ground. For those of you that have not experienced fish chowder, put some fish in a 5 gallon bucket, seal it closed and set it in the sun for a month. Then pop the lid off after a month and take a whiff. That’s fish chowder. God-awful!
Around 5:45 sticks started breaking in the thick foliage to my left. After spending plenty of time listening to squirrels scurrying about I knew the sound I was hearing was bigger then a squirrel. With my heart racing, I stood, flattened the stand seat against the tree, got my bow in hand and turned on my camera. I pressed my back against the tree and peeked through the background cover leaning against my tree. I was ready. Slowly a brown muzzle came into view. BEAR! Remaining motionless I watched the bear’s every move. My excitement level was over the top! My hearing was deafened by the pounding of my heart in my ears as I watched as the bear come into full view about 12 yards away. Sizing it up, I guessed it to be 130 – 150# with a perfect thick black coat. As far as I was concerned it was a shooter. The bear stood at the transition line between the thick growth foliage and the more open timber and then slowly lumbered forward towards the crib. At around eight yards away the bear glanced up at my tree and froze. Then ever so gingerly it lowered its head and slinked back the way it had come from and disappeared in the thick foliage. I remained poised and listened as the bear climbed the hill to my west and I caught glimpses of its broken form as it appeared sporadically through the timber until it eventually melded into the forest away from me. What a rush finally a bear sighting! This boasted my confidence the Glove stand even more. The rest of the night was quiet and I left The Glove under the darkness of night and excited for the next day’s hunt.
Topic: TradGang Bear Quest # 4 2010' Unpacking & Wheels are Turnin for BQ # 5 JUNE 2011' (Read 55770 times)
