Continued from page 56 After reviewing the video I was glad I missed. Maybe it was the position of the camera but the arrow looked too far back in the footage. In the field the shot’s windage looked good it was the elevation that was screwed, but in a time of such high excitement what actually happens and what your eye’s and mind tells you may be different.
Anyway, the 130# bear zips back to where it had first appeared on the plateau. The place where it was confident danger didn’t exist. At the edge of the plateau the bear milled around a bit, picked up a bone or something, carried it a few feet away and laid down like a dog with its prize. “Hmmm… maybe it’s not over” I thought “Maybe I’ll get another shot at this bear.”
A few minutes later a larger bear tops the plateau coming from the east and passes within a few yards of the bear lying down. The new bear looked to be on a mission. It didn’t glance at the 130# bear or pay it any attention. The larger bear kept its nose pointed west trotting across the plateau and was out of sight in the blink of an eye. “That was odd” I thought to myself.
Seconds later, another big bear summits the plateau with its nose to the ground following the same path as the bear that just hot footed itself to the west. BOAR! I whispered. The first bear through was a sow; he has been pestering her that’s why she looked so determined in her passing. “This is a nice bear” I thought to myself. My eyes were glued to it as I watched it’s every move and I began to try and will it to move to me.
As if the boar had hit a wall it stopped at the trail the 130# bear had run out on and sniffed around a bit and then like magic the boar turns in my direction and begins a slow torturous walk to me. The time was 8:20. Undoubtedly the bear had picked up the grease scent that other bears had tracked into the forest as they left the crib. There is grease or used cooking oil poured on the ground in front of the bait barrel for the sole purpose of making bears step in it and track the scent throughout the forest.
This bear has a different demeanor; it has a swagger to its walk. As if to say,” I’m bad and I know I’m bad.” I would not have wanted to encounter this bear at the trailhead as I had the smaller bear earlier in the day. I believe this bear may have stood his ground. He casually strolls the trail behind the crib picking up donut bits that I had thrown on the trail to help lure the bears in closer. With envy, I examined the bear from nose to tail. He is the one! I wanted this bear…BAD! His coat looked perfect and his ears looked small and set to the side of his head. I sized him up to be a 150 – 180# boar. Perfect! This was the bear I have been holding out for. “Now, please just give me one opportunity” I silently pleaded.
The closer he got the more detail I could see and when he was about 15 yards away I saw that he had a limp. His left front paw was turned upside down. He was walking on his wrist and the pads of his paw were pointed up. A handicapped bear… surely no one will give me grief about this.
By 8:40 he had F-I-N-A-L-L-Y closed the gap between us to about 10 yards. At that point I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take. Something was about to pop because I was so amped up! My muscles were cramping, my heart was beating so hard I could feel the blood pulsing through every major vain in my body, I was breathing as if I had run a marathon and my mouth was dry. God I would have loved to have a drink of water. My mouth was so dry. The bear had been quartering to me the whole time and remained that way when he lay down at the small bait pile 10 yards away stuffing his face.
He lay there, according to me video clips, for approximately 20 excruciating minutes. He looked up at me several times and seemed to look right through me. As if to say “What?”
There was a half hour of shooting light left and the way he was moving I thought I was going to miss that window. At last, he finished the pile of bait and heaved his body off the ground. Still no shot as he stood with his head pointing right at me nine yards away. Come on go to the other bait pile I silently chanted “go, go go… come on go” and he did. He moved broadside about nine yards out but slightly quartering to me, still no shot. He stood two yards from the other bait pile and glanced at it and then turned away from it and walked closer to me. I was almost there! No matter how much I wanted this to happen I couldn’t force it. I was on his time not mine so I had to play by his rules.
The smoldering honey pot got his attention and he moved closer to investigate it. The move to the honey pot was a quartering to me move and the investigation of the pot put him 6 yards away with his head pointed straight at me. This was intense! I’m reaching up to grab the preverbal brass ring but it is just out of reach. I’m tapping the brass ring with the tips of my fingers but I can’t quite hook my finger around it. That’s how close I was to shooting this bear.
Too close of an inspection brings heat to his nose and he backs up with a surprised look. His body language told me he had had enough of that as he pointed his muzzle to the easy pickings of the small bait pile. His turn puts him broadside to me for a brief moment and then his vitals pass behind the trunk of a 12” diameter tree. He comes around the other side of the tree and turns towards me once again to look at something else that caught his attention. Slightly quartering to me at eight yards and with the light fading I was about to come unglued, but I felt the moment of truth was about flash before me so I needed to stay sharp and I asked God to help me make a clean kill. Whatever the bear saw apparently didn’t hold his attention for long. The scent of the donuts up wind was calling his name.
My buddy Chris Kinslow and I play a game where one of us draws our bow and the other decides when to shoot. It sounds simple, but at 20 or 25 seconds I begin to quiver holding back the weight of my 55 pound bow. This simple game came into play on the night of this hunt. While the bear stood quartering to me he turned his head to his right towards the pile of donuts. This in turn diverted his eyes away from me and I brought into play the game that Chris and I have played while practicing. I draw the string of my bow and hold its weight in my curled split fingered grip. The next move belongs to the bear. At times like these seconds seem like days. I stand solid with the middle finger of the glove anchored in the corner of my mouth. As long as he doesn’t change his mind and turn back towards me, I’m golden.
Where the head goes the body must follow and the head is going to the bait. The bruin slowly swings the front half of his torso to the bait and in doing so he opens his whole left side up to me. I let my vision burn a hole to the leg on the opposite side of his body and when he lifted his left front leg to move it forward, I relaxed my string hand.
The string of the 56” pronghorn is ripped from the Martin glove and the 650 grain, 31.5” Carbon Express 250 arrow tipped with a Wensel Woodsman head is launched. The thud of the bow and the sound of the arrow smacking the bears hide were almost in unison because of his close proximity. With a single grunt and the eruption of rustling foliage on the forest floor, the boar tore away and headed for the hills. In a blur he was gone, crashing through the now muted colored understory of the timber. I watched his black silhouette against the lighter subdued background as he ran in a confused line, mowing over anything that stood in his way. The run was brief and the line turned into a tight left handed arc as he expended the last of his energy on his feet in one last attempt to escape, but it was all but over for him. I watched him collapse as he entered a shallow depression on the plateau behind the crib and saw the last movements of his legs as his muscles moved without the control of his brain and then he lay still about 30 yards from where I was standing.
This all transpired in a matter of seconds. I stood in the treestand shaking uncontrollably like a junky coming off of my adrenalin high. As the bear made his last dash into the shallow depression, I turned my video camera towards my face to record my reaction. My breathless voice quivered as I spoke into the camera trying to explain the events that had just taken place. I was visibly shaken after the shot. Recording my reaction is something I always try to do so I can relive the moment in the future. As I whispered (I don’t know why I was whispering) to the camera the bear began to do a death moan, which I was expecting, but what I wasn’t expecting was multiple death moans that lasted a full minute. Horrible, horrible absolutely HORRIBLE! It was one of the most haunting sounds I have ever heard. One moan, I could have handled two moans okay, but a full minute was torture! I wish I could show my reaction but the death moans are way to graphic to broadcast over the Internet.
As I whispered to the camera, my body was coming out of the adrenalin trance that it had been in for the last 30 minutes and I was beginning to feel the crash. I don’t know what a heart attack feels like but I think I may have been damn close to having one. I winced as I talked and I doubled over and exclaimed “God I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.” How I didn’t fall off the stand I’ll never know. Anyway I did it. I DID IT! I killed my first bear and it was the bear I really wanted. I set my goal for a 150# bear and I shot one. To say I was very emotional is an understatement. Last year I spent 52 hours in a treestand and this year I spent 30. After 82 hours I finally have my trophy!
After my little video I crawled down and hurried over to put my hands on the long coarse hair of my prize. As I kneel by his side I thank our creator for the bears life and I pat the bear’s side and thank the bear for his life. The Indians considered the bear to be a very powerful sprit creature and after spending time around them I can see why.
The last word in my video sums it up
WOW! 
The End
Special thank you to Tom Phillips for putting this hunt together and all the work he does to make things run smooth. I would also like to thank Fred and Brandan for helping me drag my bear out and a thank you the Dick and Bill Langer for helping me skin my bear.
Topic: TradGang Bear Quest # 4 2010' Unpacking & Wheels are Turnin for BQ # 5 JUNE 2011' (Read 55632 times)
