The am came slow but as I was getting my clothes on someone burst into our cabin to say Jerry was very sick. They weren't sure possibly a kidney stone. With me being medical I grabbed my kit and headed the 1/4 mile to the base camp. I had very little in my kit as border crossings spook me. Had it been Colorado or anywhere in the US and I could have taken out your appendix or treated your open fracture. Here it was a suture kit, some Tylenol and some injectable Dexamethasone. Basically, I was useless. I did give him a shot that he never felt...as the pain of renal colic is nothing short of blinding. Evan, another hunter and a friend of Jerry's, made our way quickly to the Mastagouche Headquarters. Evans French is far better than mine and we found that the nearest hospital was Louisville. Another hunter, John, agreed to transport Jerry there while we kept things going. It was a team effort. Everyone did a part and we kept up with things as best we could. One thing of note: Jerry is a tough SOB. Retired firefighter. Rescue swimmer. Bear guide. They don't come tougher. To see him in agony was miserable for me as I could do none of the things I have been trained to do. Knowing he was getting to a hospital made me breathe a sigh if relief. I had almost forgotten my wounded bear. Almost.
After Jerry's evac, we contacted Claude, Jerry's partner in camp 2. Like a champ he responded to the bell in the 12th round. With Evan's help we tracked my bear. First by sight, good blood in the beginning then as we hit the 100 yard mark I put my hand on Claude and did the best I could with the language barrier. It was heart or nothing my friend. It was nothing. After 150 yards the sparse blood revealed my arrow, broken at 3 inches from the Ace standard. We consulted each other and brought Bear, the childlike beast of a dog to help.
After 500 yards we agreed that my boar was healthy. Wounded yes, but not fatally. At least as sure as we could be. I thanked Mr Claude for his patience and his work and hugged that damn dog like it was my kid. It all rushed in as I walked out quietly. My hunt was over.
*My hero
I called John on my sat phone to check on Jerry and decided I was camp cook now. I'd help all I could. Sure we would love to go into some fantasy ground hog day scenario where we stay at the "Edge of Tomorrow" and right all of our wrongs. I have looked at my video hundreds of times and tried to will the arrow 2 inches higher. It doesn't happen.
We hunt these critters and love them. To try and explain this to a nonhunter or an anti is pointless. I think, as tough as it is, we tell the tale. I have not lost many, but this bear is lost. Perhaps to another hunter, but I believe in my heart, not to my arrow. I did all I could. Bear and Claude and Jerry did everything right. The bow performed, the hunter did not. It is a gut check for me, and will be for some time, but it is truth.
So, after a long few days I am home with family. Jerry made it back, and like the professional he is, sucked it up. He is as good a guide in the business and tougher than woodpecker lips. I shook his hand, thanked him for the opportunity and booked for next year. When I am over this I will be ready, again. However, This is not the end of Mastagouche Madness, only the start. We got hunters to tell their tales. It is awesome! Until then, toast the big black boar, say a small prayer for healing, and let's tip our hats to the wild beasts we love
Topic: Mastigouche Maddness: a bear hunt with Russell Outdoor Guides (Read 959 times)
