 Greetings
fellow bow people. :-)
The 2003 fall hunting season was fast approaching and with news from
my doctor, I was sure it would prove to be an interesting one.
I was diagnosed with yet another herniated disc and would need
surgery.
This was nothing new to me, as I had had the exact same surgery 9 years
before on a different lumbar disc. It wasn’t so much the pain that bothered
me, as it was the annoying numbness in my leg and foot. I even began to
walk with a limp.
I had visions of myself trying to climb up a tree and my leg “going
out” and sending me crashing to the ground. Or perhaps just having to sit
still for so long in a treestand would cause me to have to move excessively
to get in a more comfortable position, hence spooking all game out of the
current zip code. Or maybe the pain would overcome me and I would slip
off my stand and be left hanging from my safety strap.
No, I didn’t think I would chance any of that this fall.
I knew that after surgery I would be laid up for awhile and probably
wouldn’t be in any shape to go hunting. Therefore, I postponed surgery
until the beginning of October, so I could at least hunt the month of September.
After all, I had gotten drawn for black bear and had planned on being out
in the woods for the opener.
I didn’t want to change those previous plans when good money was involved.
I would just go to “Plan B” and hunt exclusively out of my Double Bull
blind this fall. In a blind, I could move around much more in comfort and
do so undetected.
To add insult to injury though, I was also diagnosed with double
carpal tunnel syndrome. I hadn’t worked for a couple weeks due not only
to my back problems, but because of weak hands. I was walking around with
a brace on my back and braces on both wrists. Would I really be able to
hunt this way? I shot my bow and was able to do so with no problems. I
even passed a shooting proficiency test and made “sharpshooter” status.
This was all I needed to convince me I could handle a “Plan B” kind of
hunt.
Monday, Sept. 1st was Labor Day, and it just happened to be the
bear opener, and in my case, the “closer” too.
The hunt took place above Lutsen, MN., off of the Caribou Trail.
One can’t get too much farther north than when they’re in Lutsen, land
of moose, bear, wolves and the elusive big woods whitetail deer. With Lake
Superior somewheres below me and Canada not too far above me, I was close
to heaven. This is truly one of the most beautiful places on earth.
We got situated inside the ground blind by 4 p.m. Stephanie,
my friend Neal’s wife, would be sitting with me and running the video camera.
There were six things on my wish list that I hoped would happen
for a perfect hunt. More on that in a bit.
A black fuzzy pine martin entertained us for a short while, as
it could easily get under the logs that were set up over the bait site.
He snatched some goodies and ran off, leaving us to watch for movement
other than just weasels.
The day was calm with only an occasional breeze that would drift
by, bringing the wonderful scent of blueberry to our noses. Every time
it did so, I would think about blueberry pancakes or blueberry muffins.
Now I was hungry when I wasn’t just moments before!
Stephanie spotted a bear at 5:25 off to the right of us. There
was a huge deadfall paralleling the well-worn bear trail, between the bear
and us, shielding most of his body so we could only make out its head as
it slowly walked towards the bait. He wasn’t moving fast and often
stopped. He eventually appeared behind the bait but then walked away somewhere
behind it and disappeared. We didn’t see where he went, as we were 15 yards
on one side of the bait and the topography behind the bait began to drop
down a hill. We waited and listened for over half an hour before he suddenly
appeared once more.
He entered from behind the bait and passed through a small opening
between the bait set-up and a pine tree, which was next to where that huge
windfall lay.
I checked my watch, 6:05 p.m. Stephanie got the camera ready while I
got my bow ready. He was definitely a shooter. I waited for the bear
to be perfectly broadside. He only needed to take one more step. We watched
him for a total of three minutes only, and knew the time was now right.
I watched the arrow hit, a little farther to the right than I
had wanted it, but it was a mortal shot nonetheless. It passed all the
way through, slicing the edge of its lungs and liver. It spun around and
stopped in that opening between the bait and the tree. This is where the
bloody arrow was found. The bear was moving ever so slow as it finally
crawled away behind the bait. I could see his feet under the bottom logs,
struggling to propel him onward.
He was having a very difficult time. Then I lost sight of him. I unzipped
the roof window and poked my head out, in hopes that I could see the bear
from a little higher viewpoint, not realizing there were pine branches
strewn over the window opening. (This was actually humorous, as I got a
head full of pine needles stuck in my hair.) No such luck, although I could
see a poplar sapling moving, where he sat-up against. I wanted to get out
of the blind to put another shot in him. Steph wanted to wait a little
longer to see/hear what might happen. We waited a few more minutes and
listened to some crashing of trees, then silence. I told her I wanted to
get out now and look for him, before he disappeared completely. She asked
if I was comfortable with that and I said yes.
We only needed to walk a few short yards behind and below the
bait site, as there he lay, underneath a small downed pine tree. The pine
was just a little bigger than the size you might have in your house at
Christmas time. The bear knew he was about to expire, as he hid under that
tree all curled up in a ball.
I realized I could just wait for him to die on his own, which would
have probably taken only a few minutes longer, but I didn’t want
to see him suffer and wanted him dead now, while it was still light
and we could see him.
I had another arrow nocked and at the ready. His body was expanding
and contracting very rapidly, almost as fast as I have seen my dog pant
in hot weather, as he tried to get air in his lungs, what little he had
left, so that he could breathe.
I couldn’t make out where certain parts of his body were located to
shoot at though. I could only see a round ball of black fuzz. I stepped
closer toward the downed tree, trying to find a good shooting window through
the thick pine branches. Just then the bear picked up his head, (like the
movie scenes of a vampire sitting up in a coffin do), and he looked right
at me. I was only 5 yards away from him. Stephanie wasn’t much more than
5 yards behind me up on the hillside. I turned to her and told her to start
filming again, as I was gonna take another shot. For some reason, I wasn’t
afraid of that bear. I think of it now, and it was not an intelligent thing
to do, but I was running on adrenaline which erased all fear. I released
that second arrow into his body, not knowing where it would strike but
entering exactly where it should have, and lodging in the bears opposite
shoulder blade. He tumbled down the hill another 15 yards and gave out
a death moan. Not once or twice, but 5 times. I thought it sounded rather
like a cow, when it moos long and hard. I knew this time that that was
the end. The bear ended up all stretched out on his back not much more
than 30 yards downhill from the bait site.
I was pumpimg my fists up and down and thanking God for a wonderful
creature to have harvested.
Both Stephanie and I were very cool cats about the whole thing,
as though we do this on a daily basis. I never got nervous or terribly
excited, but was very calm throughout the whole process. I waited for everything
to be perfect before making the shot, and only got excited after the bear
gave his death moan.
Stephanie took a few pictures then we headed off on the 4-wheeler
to get her husband Neal to help haul that boar out.
Neal was great as he plunged right in with a knife, taking care of
the field dressing. That second arrow was still in the bear, as we couldn’t
pry it out. Neal ended up unscrewing the arrow shaft from inside the bears
now empty belly, to pull it away from the broadhead. The broadhead was
later removed from its shoulder blade at the taxidermists’.
The bear was lifted up onto the front rack of the 4-wheeler with a little
help from another successful bear hunter. With not being able to bend and
lift with my bad back, I felt safe just helping by picking the head up.
Neal thought the bear to be at least 3 years old and weighed 150
pounds field dressed. He kept remarking on how black it was. Most black
bears are a bit lighter or have white patches on their throat, snout or
belly, but mine was jet black all over. He said it was nice and long, the
kind he preferred for making a rug. I was happy with my 1st bear, not caring
that it didn’t weigh 250 pounds or more. In all honesty, I would have been
happy if it had only weighed 100 pounds. This bear would certainly make
a fine rug regardless.
We packed its empty cavity with bags of ice and headed home.
I stopped at the taxidermists’ first, and watched while they skun it
out and quartered the meat for me to take to the butchers’. I was
truly grateful by the way, as it was well past closing hours and they made
a special trip to the shop to help me out with my bear. (Thank you Wings
& Things Taxidermy!!)
The meat was put in my truck in a large cooler, packed with ice and
holding until the next day for transport to the butcher shop.
As mentioned earlier, the 6 things on my wish list that I wanted
for a perfect hunt/harvest were:
-
Shooting an animal from a ground
blind. Many thought I was crazy for wanting to be on terra firma with a
black bear just yards away.
-
Daylight. I didn’t relish the
idea of trying to make out vitals on a dark bear on a dark night and having
to look for it in the dark.
-
Clean kill. I didn’t want a
pissed-off wounded bear running through the woods and nothing for me to
do but lament it.
-
Complete pass-through. Not always
an easy thing to do on a bear, with so much fat and very thick fur. Was
nice to know my 47-pound bow could handle that.
-
Close distance. I dreamed of
my bear NOT running 100 yards+ off into the woods not knowing where it
went. I could see this bear
-
Death moan. I had heard them
on bear hunting video tapes and heard they only happen about 50% of the
time. I wanted to hear it, as confirmation to the finality of its death.
An added bonus was not having to clean it and field dress it. (Smiles big.)
My first harvest of the 2003 fall season I call a “herniated harvest”,
due to my back problems. I’m hoping I can have another (harvest, not hernia!)
when deer season opens. If you see a D.B. ground blind in the forest, just
maybe It’ll be me.
Neal is a great bear hunter himself and knows more than I ever
will about the black fuzzy (and smelly) creatures. He said not to ever
change my set-up, as it worked perfectly on such a big animal.
My set-up:
PSE Firestorm Lite, 47#
Easton A/C/C shafts, 318/560
Muzzy 3-blade, 100 gr.
HHA Sports sight
Trophy Taker fall away rest
Double Bull T-5 ground blind
May all your arrows fly true
~Tumbleweed
 |
