All my life I have heard about how nasty bear meat is. Greasy, gamey, hardly fit for the dogs. So needless to say, I have never really gone out in search of a bear. If I was gonna have to eat one and deal with it, it was gonna be a big boy, with a good head and cape to make stomaching the flesh a bit easier.
Spring of 2012, my good buddy Dan pulled a spring tag down in the blues, and of course I was all over the opportunity to go glass some new country and enjoy the spring mountains. Long story short, he shot a pretty brown sow and not only was she not stinky, but the meat was very good! Mind...blown....
After that hunt, I had an itch to kill a bear. They were fascinating animals with very unique habits and mannerisms that this mule deer junkie had not witnessed before. The following spring I was lucky enough to draw my own spring tag, but as many of you know, April of 2013 was not the best of times for me or my family. Aarons death left a giant hole in me and I thought maybe an escape to the mountains would help. It did not. My head was not in the game. I missed a chip shot at a brute of an old boar, and came home feeling angry, ashamed, and alone.
Fast forward to this last year. I met a great human and hunter from this very website as many of you know as bullblaster. Through him I also met Coop2424, and Jonathan_S. These guys are the real deal! They know how to get after it, and they flat put animals on the ground. During casual conversation, baiting bears in Idaho came up. I mentioned how this was something that has always been a bit of a bucket list item and man they were on it! These guys put in a ton of time, money, and effort to round up bait, barrels, cameras, stands, blinds, etc., to make this thing happen. I really feel a bit worthless as all I have done is show up and hunt.
This past weekend we all rounded up our families and headed for the mountains of Idaho for some good old fashioned mountain fun and bear hunting! The weather was fantastic and all but one bait site was seeing activity. We thought for sure that there was gonna be a pile of bears in the coolers by the end of the weekend! Well one thing we definitely didn't count on was how much the Memorial day weekend activities were going to shut down the bear movement
As I was packing up gear for the weekend, I found myself standing in the open door of my gun safe wondering who the lucky one will be for this trip. The plan was to use my bow, so the rifle was just going to be going along for a truck ride. Well there towards the back, sat the most treasured rifle in the whole safe. It was my grandpa's old model 94 .32 Winchester Special. He bought it new, when he got back from WWll and it was the only rifle he ever owned. The bluing was worn from years of hard hunting, carried by a strong hand. The wood was scratched, and faded, but still warm to the touch with memories of my first days in the woods, jumping from hole to hole following my grandpa through the snow, eyes trained on the medal buttplate. I had killed deer with it the season following his passing, but it had sat in the safe ever since. I snatched it up and slid it into a soft case and out to the truck it went.
The first night of hunting found me and Bullblaster sitting a groundblind on the "Mayo" bait. We quickly found out that it was going to be difficult with the bow due to the steep uphill angle. I couldn't crouch down low enough to shoot without losing my anchor. Without a solid anchor, the pins were very wobbly and even though the shot was only 21 yards, it just didn't feel very good. We sat from 2:40 till dark without even a bird pecking at a bagel.
Night number 2 we decided that since any bear activity we might get is gonna be at very last light, and the steep awkward angle of the shot, the rifle was a better option. We didn't hit the blind till 5 the following evening since we were almost certain that we would not see a bear. After roughly a metric ton of starburst and pepsi consumption, and a whole lot of gut busting laughter, the evening was almost over. Darkness was quickly engulfing the landscape and I had accepted the fact that this would not be the trip that would produce my first bear. As I was trying to escape the horrible smell that is Bullblaster after eating my world famous teriyaki chicken, we were quickly snapped back to reality by the snapping of branches! The guys told me that most likely you won't hear a bear when they approach, but this one was not following that rule! Snap, crash, crash, snap, and then a sound that will give me a warm fuzzy feeling till the day I die! All you bear hunters know the sound! Almost like a moan or a woof combined!
Well he did that a few times and then the snapping got closer and closer and closer until at 5 yards, he was looking in the blind from the side of the cut bank
It was a stale mate! He was looking at us and I had Bullblaster between me and the bear! I couldn't make a move! A few decades (seconds) go by and he disappears back into the brush. I was excited but my heart sank. There goes my chance
Well that was short lived when I caught movement up towards the barrel. He never broke stride! He walked straight into the barrel and up he went with both front paws! I eased the hammer back, settled the bead, and jerked the trigger as hard as humanly possible
I lost him on the recoil, but the sound of crashing and gargling assured me of a solid hit! A few seconds later, the brush sounded like it was exploding and both Bullblaster and I threw our rifles up to the ready, to try and anchor him when he hit the clear road bed, but all he did was flop off the cut bank and fall stone dead into the flat.
Back at camp, we took pictures, high fived, and then broke him down. The kids were very excited, and so were the dogs
The next day we rebaited, checked cams, and I grabbed a rock from the kill site, which I almost forgot. On the way home, we stopped at Medical Lake Veterans Cemetery to pay our respects to all our fallen heroes, and one of them in particular. There were lots of people about and a truck full of my sleeping people, so I made my visit a quick one. I laid a small stone, smudged with bear blood on Aaron's head stone, told him I loved him and that I missed him, and I headed for home.
A quiet 5 hour drive gives a man lots of time to reflect. I live a very blessed life. I was molded by men like my grandfather. I live in a country where I get to travel, hunt, and live my dreams, because of men like Aaron. I am also surrounded by amazing and generous people who help and share in those pursuits. I am a lucky man.....
