Just the beginning as devious minds start working.

My uncle was sitting at a bait a couple miles west and my brother and cousin teamed up an equal distance to the northeast.  My good buddy, Carman and I sat perched in our bench stand over the middle bait, waiting for a black spot to appear in the woods.  Carman is the undisputed king leg-puller of the crowd, never missing an opportunity to make us believe there’s a big bear or buck only a head-turn away.  So when I turned my head again, I was surprised to see an actual bear coming down the trail.  He stopped broadside by the barrel, allowing me to reach full draw.  A well-placed arrow saw the bear down within sight of our stand.

“Well, that was fun,” I said.  “What are we gonna do now?”  The evening had climaxed early, leaving us about 3 hours before the guys would pick us up after sunset.  We tagged the bear, posed for a photo then proceeded to drag him towards the trail.  That’s when the fun started all over again.

“Why don’t we prop him up over this deadfall?” I schemed.  “When the guys show up, it‘ll look like a live bear frozen in the headlights!”  With two sly grins, we elevated his head with a forked stick, brushed the leaves off his coat and sought a good hiding spot a short distance away.  From there, we waited…

The familiar hum of the Honda engine told us that my uncle would be the first victim (not counting the bear, of course).  When he crested the last rise, the quad brakes went on and his backup rifle came up almost instantly.  You’ve heard that it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks.  Well, let me tell you, it’s also hard to fool an old dog with new tricks.  He lowered the scope with a chuckle.

We hurriedly invited him into cahoots as the old Ford bounced down the opposite trail, its lights flashing through the trees as it rounded the last bend.  When the bear suddenly appeared amidst a well-chosen stand of poplars, the brake lights exploded while we tried our best not to.  My cousin cracked his driver door and with the interior glow, we could see them discussing the uncanny situation.  Just when we thought the gig was up, he grabbed his bow and quietly exited the pickup.  He took a couple cautious paces toward the deceased bear.  He nocked an arrow…pulled back…and released!

“You shot high,” my brother said from the passenger seat.  “Shoot again – he’ still standing there!”  We could hardly contain ourselves.  My cousin is a good shot and I knew he wouldn’t miss twice.  So for the sake of our bear rug and his humility, we roared out of the bush when he raised his bow again.  We’re lucky he didn’t turn the bow on us.

We drove back to camp, opened the communal cooler and relived the hysteria until 4:30 in the morning.

Arliss McNalley is the Maker of the : BowKaddy