Normally I bowhunt bear with somethings I somehow failed to bring today, my Nikon binoculars. I wanted to see more of the bear colored blob in the Canadian woods. But no luck Sherlock.
However there was a lesser option of using my digital camera and Sonying up the bear on the camera’s max zoom. I waited until he got closer and took a close in pic. Actually, I couldn’t see the bear that well through all the branches and leaves but when the camera formulated the picture I saw a good looking bear — with a darker muzzle than any of my other visitors.
The bear was coming closer, too.
I took a normal picture as this new bear approached the right side of the logs.
The bear hung a right and stopped. I took my last picture. The sun’s low afternoon light revealed a lot of brown hair on its back. I set the Sony down.
This was the time, my time and the bear’s time. Carefully, I picked my bow up from where it was leaning against the side of the blind and quickly and silently nocked an arrow.
The bear turned around in his tracks but was still broadside. I switched on the rheostat on my Cobra bowsight and adjusted it to its brightest setting.
This was it.
I drew and put the bright top pin on the bear, snuggled it in tight behind the right front leg, center of body. And held rock steady, concentrating on my target and keeping my form and follow through good.
A touch on the release trigger and I saw the bright yellow color of the wraps and fletching streak to my target. The hit was half crunch and half splat. The bear whirled and ran straight away, disappearing into the leaves, limbs and trees.
I listened for a death moan.
But there wasn’t one.
If there had been a death moan I would’ve gone after the bear right away. I definitely felt good about the shot and was certain the bear was going down. A couple of times on other bear hunts I have gone after bears that I shot that didn’t give a death moan and jumped up the bear. They ran a ways before going down.
I didn’t want to risk that again.
This incredibly dense Canadian woods is a chore to track in.
So I gathered up my gear, eased out of the blind and walked to the logger’s skidder trail and waited to be picked up.