Tag Archives: outdoor adventure

Bear Hunting

January 1, 2012   Black Bear, Black Bear, Hunting

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

The muddy road to my bear stand

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.

Tree stand

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).

Bear bait barrel

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.

Bear bait barrel

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.

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Molunkus Stream Camps, Day Three

August 27, 2011   Deer, Maine Outdoors, Moose, Nature, Outdoor Women, Outdoors, Whitetail deer

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A spider web in early morning sunshine

Day Three

We didn’t want to leave camp and avoided talking about it. After another leisurely morning sipping coffee on the porch steps, watching ducks in the stream, we headed out to explore again. More mushrooms, flowers, caterpillars and oops, poison ivy. “What’s that saying about poison ivy,” I asked.

“Leaves of three, stay away from me,” she replied.

“Crap.” I was up to my knees in it. I backed out. Back at camp later, I peeled them off, inside out and put them into a plastic bag. One poison ivy rash in my life was enough.

“Let’s have your big lunch later, pack up and go to the stand. We can leave to go home from there.” Tammy made fried chicken, new potatoes and fried okra for lunch. Delicious! It didn’t take long to pack the Jeep, clean camp and leave.

The first hour in the observation stand was quiet, then Tammy spotted a large, dark-colored doe walking into the left side of the field. She grazed way to the apple tree. I couldn’t tell if she was eating apples or leaves. Healthy, large, beautifully colored and moving with grace and ease through tall grasses to get get to a patch of clover; she was perfect. She must have heard one of us move. Her head snapped up and she started into the eight foot long window of the observation deck. We froze. She knew we were there.

We waited, not moving. She watched. We waited. She watched. She wasn’t relaxing and we didn’t want to scare her away. And then the excitement began. A noise drew her attention from us to something we couldn’t see. There was something past the doe, at the edge of the field or maybe still in the trees. We were able to step closer to the window to watch. To our right, a moose grunted. “Did you hear that noise,” I asked Tammy. She did. “That’s a moose.”

Where to watch? The doe, still frozen and staring at something, or to the right where a moose might step into the clearing. A branched cracked under the moose’s feet. It was walking parallel to the clearing, still far enough into the trees that we couldn’t see it. Our attention went back to the doe.

When deer are angry they “blow.” The doe blew once, stomping a front foot at the same time. A light-colored, large doe stepped into sight. Ahhhh. She’s the problem. The first doe blew again. A stare-off lasted a few minutes. Did one or the other blink? Something happened. They charged each other, rearing up on hind legs, still running. I thought they were going to bang heads. AsI flinched at the expectation of banging heads, both turned slightly and hooves started flying. We could hear hooves clashing together. It ended quickly and both does were on four feet again.

The lighter doe disappeared from sight, followed by the darker doe. Directly to our left, something large, probably the moose, stepped on another branch. A sharp crashing sound made the doe blow again. Before the excitement was over, she blew a total of nine times. We didn’t see them again but followed them by sound up the slope and into the woods. It was getting dark. Time to go home and wait impatiently for our next adventure in the Maine woods.

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Molunkus Stream Camps, Day Two

August 26, 2011   Maine Outdoors

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The power in the cabin comes from a generator in a nearby shed. It’s loud and disruptive; I don’t like to run it except to run the water and the lights at night. The percolator glub-glubbed on the propane stove while we sat on the porch steps in silence. The electric coffee maker sat idle on the counter.  Ducks paddled upstream, floated down and paddled up again. Hairy and downy woodpeckers, red and white breasted nuthatches and brown creepers flew from tree to tree. A mature American bald eagle flew down stream below the tree tops.

We sat on the steps, losing track of time, until morning was almost over. After brunch we grabbed cameras and water and took off in the Jeep to explore. If there’s a road or path Tammy can’t see the end of, she must explore.

50 gallon drums are used to hold bear bait.

People get upset, sometimes downright furious, over bear baiting. I wouldn’t hunt bear any other way. It’s very hard to find a bear in the woods. They’re timid animals that don’t want to be near people. There are so many bear at the cabins that they’re a problemy. They’re killing and eating the fawns in the spring.  They’re also causing property damage. We haven’t seen fawns or tracks this year. In late summer guides and hunters put sweet foods into 50 gallon drums in the woods. The stand has to be a minimum distance from the road and the drum must be labeled with the owners name and contact information. You can see a little of the hole in the barrel, just above the ferns. Food is put into the barrel and logs (out of sight) are put into the hole. Pulling the logs out keep the bear at the bait longer. The longer you have to observe the bear the longer you have to make an intelligent decision on shooting or letting the bear eat and leave. Young bears should be left in the gene pool. Sows are always left at Molunkus Stream Camps. You can’t know without adequate observation whether you should pull the trigger.

We spent time shooting, exploring and at the bear bait where I hunt. Tammy climbed the 15′ ladder to the stand. The stand is 20′ from this blue barrel, attached to a big spruce tree.

After an early supper we returned to “big field” at 5 pm, hoping to see the moose in better light. She didn’t visit the field that evening.

It wasn’t long before a yearling doe appeared in the right side of the field. She didn’t get close enough for a great photo. I think she knew we were in the building and wasn’t overly concerned about us. She’s safe from people in the field, though she doesn’t know this.

Other than bluebirds, the doe was the only wildlife we saw in the field. We disturbed small birds roosting in birch trees draped over the trail from the field to the Jeep.

The Jeep’s headlights reflected from eyes near to the ground on the way back to camp. I turned on the off road lights on the roof to get a better look. A kitten limped into the woods. It was the first and last time we saw the kitten. The cat wasn’t seen after the first evening. How they got to be 10 miles into the woods is a mystery. Later that night, a dog barked three times in a row near camp. I waited for the porch light to turn on automatically but the dog didn’t come close enough to camp. We didn’t see or hear it again. Last summer a dog chased a deer through the field. Same one? We don’t know.

The most exciting time in the stand came the next evening.

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Molunkus Stream Camps, Day One

August 26, 2011   Maine Outdoors

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We were on the road at 8 am sharp. By the looks of the Jeep, we packed for 16 people. We had way too much food for two. We probably could have stayed four more days without running out of food. We’ll pack lighter next year. When we arrived at the gate to Paradise, also known as Molunkus Stream Camps, it was open. Peter, our generous host, was already there bush hogging a field. He stopped for a short visit before heading home. Steve and Taylor came in later to bring the kayak and paddles and skeet thrower. We spent time target shooting with Taylor and Steve. Taylor hadn’t been to Peter’s camp with us before so we went on the grand tour, including big field. You know you’re with real outdoors women when you say “There’s a bat,” and they rush to it rather than run screaming from it.

Steve and Taylor left late in the afternoon to get home to tend chickens, turkeys and dogs. Tammy and I had supper and headed to “new field.”

After seeing nothing in new field we drove to a parking area for “big field.” It was after sunset but before dark. The only sounds during the quarter-mile walk were the small roosting birds we disturbed, crickets, and tall grasses under our feet. Tammy spotted a cow moose in the field before we got to the end of the trail. We backed up to a path that leads to the steps of the observation stand, walked in quietly and closed the door behind us. It was getting dark quickly and I realized I’d left the head lamps in the Jeep. We watched the moose eat until she disappeared down a path into the island of trees.

Watching over our shoulder occasionally, we made our way back up the hill to the Jeep. The full moon helped us see our way over ruts and through tall grass, and to see the moose if she happened to change course and be coming up behind us. This cow doesn’t have a calf to protect but that doesn’t mean she’s docile. They are large and usually slow but they can be fast and dangerous without notice. They aren’t called “wild” life for nothing.

We got into the Jeep and headed back to camp. Eyes. Glowing eyes in a clearing beside the road. A cat. Someone’s cat was 10 miles out the dirt road. It disappeared into the tall grass. We’d see another cat the next day.

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