Saw him.......stalked him.....stuck him.
I' ve been damn busy, but here' s the BOOK - warning - it' s loooong...
On the way to the opening party for my buddy’s first annual 3D archery shoot, I stopped by my favourite bear hunting grounds that I’d stomped through a dozen or so times this year. The season is getting short and the bears are wandering further into their territories as the mountaintop forests green up. Bear sightings are getting rare, but I’ve seen a couple of some bruisers out cruising for a piece of tail, so the stakes are high…A crisp wind blew announcing the approaching storm and I had a feeling the break from the heat would bring the animals out…
About a mile from the truck and hadn’t seen a hair, but I had a good feeling as I neared the crest of a roll that looks into a lush draw of the main drainage at the end of a small mountain lake. Although it seems like the perfect spot, I had never seen a bear there, until now. A big brown ball fed in the long grass just above the creek. I immediately knew it was a SHOOTER (even with the gun), as I found a rest on the crest about 200 yards above him. I watched him for a minute through the binos as he swaggered through the long grass down towards the creek. He was a beautiful cinnamon brown with a blondish hump, and had to look hard to ensure it wasn’t a grizz. (he was easily over 6’ with a big head - 19”+) With the wind in my face and the creek’s noise, I couldn’t have asked for a better setup.
I crept down through the edge of the forest keeping my eye on him. When he got down to the creek, I made a run for the knoll 30 yards above him. I couldn’t believe that I made it and my heart started to pound. I knocked an arrow and crawled up with my rifle in one hand. It was iiintense as I peered over the crest….there’s his hump – 18 yards downhill….just as I put the rifle down…up jerks his head and he stairs right at me……ffffffffff!…he bolts 20 yards across the creek as I shoulder my rifle….he stands up to see what has spoiled his meal at the salad bar…but I’m mezmerized by a perfect white V on his chest - the only one I’ve seen on a bear, EVER. He bolt for the forest edge 50 yards away as I track him in my scope, but he doesn’t stop for my shouts…I guess that’s why he’s BIG!!!…oh well, not his time yet…
A little bummed, but I had a good feeling about the storm and the night, so I headed up the other side. 10 minutes later, I approach the edge of a clear cut, where I’d seen a decent black the week before. I catch a flicker of black in the bushes of the ditch 100 yards ahead. Up go the bino’s and I’m looking at the swaggering ass of a mature blackie. I wanted a brown, but if he’s decent, I’d take a black with my bow. I’ve still got the wind so I quickly close the gap as he feeds up on the bank above the road. At 35 yards he decides to cross the road and I jump into the ditch just in time. He feeds up and behind a 10’ berm of dirt – I know I’m going to get a shot. I run up to the berm and knock an arrow and put the rifle down…I’m psyched as I step out from behind the birm……he’s feeding uphill at 20 yards, but I’m looking straight at his ass….I draw and take a few steps to try and find the angle……he turns and and my autopilot kicked in…
I remember the solid THWACK as the arrow penetrated his ribs and hit BONE! Instantly with a ROAR that filled my pants, he turned TASMANIAN DEVIL...he wheeled around in a FURY trying to bite his attacker…dirt flew as he spun with power and speed that I’ve never even imagined....I ran for my gun 15 yards back and when I turned with it he was gone…WHEW....
I listened as he crashed into the cedar forest...he slowed down after about 60 yards. I went back to the spot he tore up the ground and found the top 1/3 of the arrow snapped off....I marked a few specs of blood in the grass at the edge of the forest...but the storm would soon be here and they would be gone... I left him to bed
.....with a new found respect for MOUNTAIN TAZ. [
][
]
Here' s the Cinnamon' s cousin:
