Robin's Outdoors

Originally published in Lancaster Farming in October, 2012
Bear Hunting
Robin Follette

I love a little mud but this is a bit much.

September didn’t go as planned.  I’ve been bear hunting! I planned to hunt on Saturdays with one or two week days tossed in as a bonus. Steve, my husband, works 60 hours a week so there’s little time to drive an hour to camp, check and fill the bait and get into the tree stand during the week. Deer hunting without Steve is one thing. Sitting in a tree stand while bears visit a bait barrel 25′ away is entirely different. He’s never sitting there with me but I know that he’s one text message and seven or eight minutes away if I need him.

We got a lot of rain at once. The road to the stand I sit in the most turned to muddy ruts.

This tree stand is on the “poplar site.”

The season for hunting bear over bait started August 29. A few days later I sat in a stand for six hours, shifting only when my right thigh begged to move or my left foot fell asleep. The first days were quiet. A large bear was coming to the bait but not while I was there. His head didn’t fit through the hole in the barrel. He or she had to reach in to scoop cupcakes out with its paw. I waited patiently. Chickadees and gray jays mobbed me and red squirrels dropped cones from tree tops. A rabbit slowly made its way through underbrush to the clearing. I was never bored.

Nothing between me and the bears but a ladder (and a rifle).

The bait barrel and bucket of bacon fat as seen with a 300 mm lens from the dirt road.

On the first weekday, a Tuesday, Steve had to be in the area for work so I rode along. After his meeting we bounced through muddy ruts in the road to my stand. He filled the bait while I nervously climbed the ladder to my seat 15 feet off the ground. I wasn’t nervous about hunting; I’m afraid of heights. One step, two, deep breath, three, four, deep breath, deep breath again, don’t look down. At the top. Shuffle feet on a small platform to turn around, wiggle into seat, deep breath. Steve handed the 30-06 up to me. I loaded the rifle while he left.

Legal hunting ends 30 minutes after sunset. At sunset I heard a crack in the woods to my right. The woods are thick here unless it’s an area that has been logged recently. I couldn’t see anything. Fifteen minutes passed before I heard another noise in the woods. Brush against the bear’s side told me I had four or five minutes before it stepped into the clearing if he continued his pace.

Movement! A bear? I blinked. A huge head emerged from the brush behind the bait barrel. Was I really seeing a bear? I hadn’t heard it. I blinked again. A 400 pound black bear cautiously walked toward me until it was only 15′ from the base of my tree stand. My heart raced. I don’t know when it started beating so fast. I wasn’t overly excited about the bear coming in to my right because when it happened last year, the bear turned and walked away instead of coming into the clearing. This bear looked toward the base of the tree stand, shifting between front paws. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t bring the rifle to my shoulder because it would have seen me move.

A noise caught my attention. It was me, breathing loudly. I realized the bear could hear me. I worked to get it under control while concentrating on the bear I was about to tag.

The bear to the right grunted, causing my bear to swing its head to look. The break I needed was coming. Surely it would turn to face the bear to my right and would be broadside. I hoped so but I didn’t know that’s what would happen. It was the first time I’d seen a bear while hunting. I’d have to move fast but it was so close and so big it would be difficult to miss the vital spot behind its right front leg. Instead, it turned its attention toward my tree again. The other bear stepped on a branch and startled my bear. “Please,” I silently begged the bear, “turn.”

The bear to the right grunted again. My bear spun around and disappeared into the woods. It was over. My bear was gone. The other bear also ran. Weeks later, I’m still amazed that the biggest living bear I’ve been close to could move silently. I texted Steve to come get me.

Because life happens and circumstances change, I offered to fill baits by myself. Someone needed to do it, why not me?  After listening to “keep the rifle loaded, be careful near the baits, listen to what’s going on, pay attention” and other warnings, I set off on my own. I put two shovels of cupcakes and one scoop of chocolate sauce in buckets, one bucket per bait. After filling baits I ate lunch, changed into camo clothes and got to hunt. Baiting alone was a first and so was climbing the tree stand without Steve’s moral support. I had to learn to climb with my pack and my rifle, get the pack hung up and manage the rifle while I shuffled my feet to turn around. Steve was more concerned than I about my new experiences. Each day I texted him from the side of the fir tree. “I’m in the stand.” He was at camp by the time it was dark. I was grateful for that the night he had to come get me because an angry, love-struck bull moose was in the road between me and my truck. The moose “wugh wugh wughed” at the truck as it passed him. That moose is a story for another day.

My bait hadn’t been hit for several days during my second week of baiting but another bait had been. I changed to that stand and had another remarkable experience. Unlike the 400 pound bear that slipped in silently, the next bears were loud. I heard them crashing through the woods for a full minute before they arrived. Bouncing through the woods and tumbling into the clearing, two eight month old cubs made their way to the barrel 70 feet from the stand. The sow walked into the clearing, turned around and walked back out. She walked to my left, looking back at the cubs only once. It was hard to keep track of her and watch the cubs. They tumbled over each other, climbed on top of the barrel to get the gummy candies left on the lid, and half jumped, half fell back to the ground. The sow looked directly at me several times before moving out of sight. She didn’t make a sound. I’d lost track of her movements when she was what seemed like 30′ behind me. I was completely unnerved. “Don’t get between a bear and her cubs” has been told to me all my life. I didn’t get between them, she put me there, 12′ off the ground. I don’t understand why she behaved this way.

The logs blocking the hole are there to give the hunter more time to assess the bear. The bear has to remove the logs to get to the food.

“Please don’t make me shoot you” ran through my mind. Had I seen her alone I’d have taken her at the first possible chance. She was  at least100′ from the cubs and paid them no attention. Thanks to the bait, I knew she was a sow with cubs and not a shootable bear. I worried that I’d lost control of my situation and might have to choose my safety over the bear. I don’t think she felt in danger. I think she’d have stayed with the cubs if she thought I was a threat. I am the only person to see the sow and cubs so I am the first person she’s seen in the stand. Maybe she was curious.

The cubs worked together to tip the barrel over and pull the logs out. They’d have rolled it down the slope if it hadn’t been chained to a tree. I wanted to leave but felt trapped in the tree with three bears on the ground.  One of the cubs noticed the light from my cell phone when I texted “sow and 2 cubs, nervous, come get me” to Steve. It bawled and scrambled up a nearby tree. The smaller cub glanced my way but was enjoying its cupcakes too much to be distracted by me.

It was after legal time and hard to see by the time Steve got to the top of the trail leading to the stand. The second cub disappeared. I didn’t see it leave and didn’t know where it went. I thought the sow was probably between me and Steve. “Make a lot of noise,” I yelled to Steve as soon as the truck door slammed shut. She moved again, closer to me than I expected.

“This isn’t good, Rob!” he yelled, “I can’t see anything outside the flashlight.” I scanned the woods with my light. We yelled back and forth to each other as he came down the trail. We didn’t see or hear the bears again.

I’m not disappointed that I didn’t tag my bear though I’ll miss having bear stew this winter. I learned a lot and gained a lot of confidence. I can climb up the tree stand easily now. Maybe next year.