A hunting story

Joined
Jan 18, 2015
Messages
413
Location
Northern Michigan
I had never been in the mountains. I had never hunted elk. I had never been in the territory of grizzlies. I had obviously never done any of this by myself. I was preparing to do it all. So I started asking my family and friends for information but got very little as they had never done these things either. Luckily at this time in history I had the interwebs to help. I read a few articles but never felt like I was getting the whole picture. Things really picked up steam when I found Rokslide. After pouring over the forums for a while I finally decided to put myself out there and start asking questions about where I was going and what I was doing. A few people gave some tips that, while helpful, were vague bordering on esoteric. Although I was clear I wasn’t after anyone’s honey hole I was still chastised by some for having the audacity to ask questions without first having heavily scouted the area on foot and told to find my own place to hunt.

Finally, somebody PM’d me that said they started in the exact same boat, gave me some good advice, and told me to read “The Guide to Hunting with Grizz”. It took a very long time to get through it but I was dedicated and by the time season rolled around I had gotten through all of it. I was even more worried about a bear encounter happening but felt slightly more prepared for it. The biggest comfort was that I knew what I was supposed to do to avoid it. I even made the weight sacrifice and brought the guide with me in case I ran into a situation where I wanted to refer back to it.

The road trip out went smooth. The hike in not so much but I had camp set and no major injuries. I chose an open area and right away set up the bear fence. I hung all my food, toothpaste, gum, etc. about 450yds from camp in a tree that I could glass very well from my tent. I made lots of noise going to and from that tree. I hunted just off the top of open ridgelines and tried to avoid sneaking around in any really tight cover. I had my bear spray on my person at all times as well as sidearm in a pack holster. I was doing everything right.

Then I saw him. A 6x7 that could scratch the tip of his tail with his antlers. His bases seemed pretty comparable in diameter to a telephone pole. I wanted him. The first day it started getting dark before I got anywhere close and I did not want to be out in the dark in grizzly country. The second day it took a while to find him and when I started to close on his bedding area I saw a bear track I could just about fall into. It was a lot harder to give up today. I stood frozen in place for a good half an hour shifting my eyes from my surroundings to that track. I didn’t have to crack the guide open. I knew what it would say. Once again I retreated, now with a bitterness rising in my heart at my misfortune. I had worked very hard to get into these mountains and I deserved to kill that bull.

All that night it rained and it blew. It was hard to get to sleep and every time I did, all I could dream about was that bull. Squeezing the trigger on a perfect quartering away shot. Setting my camera on a timer to get that picture people would be talking about for years. Where he was going on my wall and what way he would face. A steak seared and medium rare and delicious. I could taste it. Guide be damned. I got up early, walked straight to my food stash without a sound and ate every good tasting thing I had left. It didn’t matter because I’d restock after packing out the first load of that bull today. I started off from camp in the dark and the only noise I could stand to let myself make was the air getting oxygen into my blood. Before it was light enough to see I was overlooking the meadow I saw him grazing the day before.

It was a gorgeous morning. The sky had cleared, the wind was low, and the bull was in that meadow. As it got to be shooting light I had him in the scope. I had almost clicked the safety off when I remembered a section in the guide about ethics, fair chase, and following game laws. It was only 4 minutes to legal shooting hours so I decided to wait. A trained observer could have visually counted the pulse in my jugular. I slowly grabbed the guide out of my pack to reference a section on shooting steep angles and reconfirmed my aim point. When I looked up the bull was gone. That damned guide had cost me a shot again. I picked him up again going over the ridge at an easy trot. When he stopped at the top to look back there was no questioning whether I’d follow. As soon as he dropped over I took off at a run, determined I could get myself that trophy through my own sweat equity.

My breath held better than I had hoped and when I topped the ridge he was just dropping into a hole on the other side. The same bedding area as yesterday. The same one I backed out of yesterday. I wound my way down the hill in cover and picked up his tracks in the mud as he went into the hole; it couldn’t have been easier to follow. Every ten yards the cover tightened and the daylight dimmed. Before long I was crawling, climbing, sliding, tripping…struggling to keep my rifle out of the mud. Dampness from the evening rain was the only thing keeping my approach quiet. That jungle hole had me soaking wet and cold and my pants were ripped and my GPS had fallen who knows where and my pack lay a whole basin over and none of mattered because the track at my feet was starting to meander back and forth to find a spot to lay down.

Then from less than 50 yards in front of me came a bugle such as I never heard on a TV show or calling tape or YouTube video. I had never heard anything like it because it was more scream than bugle and it came from some place deep in the earth and it was cut off at the end not of his own will. A mighty thrashing about erupted created by what I could only imagine was another, more magnificent, bull come to challenge my bull. I decided I would shoot whichever would score better and used the opportunity to move in for the kill. I was so focused on staying silent that I didn’t notice the silence before I saw it. My bull a bloody heap on the forest floor torn open at the belly and gashed at the neck. The undergrowth was flattened in a good circle around him. Leading away from him were tracks not imprinted on the dirt but painted in blood. I had just snuck into a grizzly kill not 30 seconds old.

Panic struck immediately but instead of a fog of noise or a pounding in my head or silence I could only hear one thing. At first I thought it was my pulse beating in my ear but it was too sharp for that. Then I thought maybe it was twigs snapping as the bear ran off, but I could not have been more wrong. It was sharp and rhythmic and close and unmoving. It was death. Having spent hours practicing on the range I instinctively reached to draw my pistol which was not there. As the undergrowth in front of me started shaking and the popping sound turned to a freight train bearing down I pulled my bear spray and discharged before even seeing my reaper. It turned sharply and simply waited. It didn’t need to wait long as the first thermal breeze of the morning pushed the poison mist straight back into my face.

It hit me hard and fast. I could see next to nothing which only intensified the darkness of that place. All I could hear was my coughing and choking. I had nothing of my own faculties left and no weapon for my defense. All I had was the stench of rank and rot and death. Yet somewhere in that despair I found a section from that guide book. Not that I found it but it came to me. My mind could see it in bold letters in the middle of the page, “When you are out of options, lie down face in the dirt, cover your head and neck with your arms, and play dead. Simply give up and believe that the bear will leave.” I was out of options, I had done everything in my own power with zero success. So I did what the guide told me to do. I could feel the breath of that bear on my neck more than I could hear it. It was hotter than a chimney fire. It took everything I had but I just kept telling myself to believe the bear would leave. I told myself over and over again. I told myself to believe that bear would leave for hours. I told myself to believe that bear would leave so many times that I finally actually believed it.

It’s funny how the light in thick cover changes throughout the day. It creates little pockets and shadows and every once in a while a small opening in the canopy lets a little spotlight down to the floor. It was one of these on my cheek that woke me up. It was pleasantly warm and unlike anything I had felt in that place. I don’t know how but as soon as I felt that light I knew the bear had gone. I got up and headed out of that hole without even looking around. I wasn’t interested in seeing any more of it, neither the bear nor the bull. I just left and luckily recognized enough landmarks to get back to my pack. The guide book was on the ground with pages blowing in the wind. As I picked it up it blew to the last page and I read. I will never forget what I read. “Remember that even after you make a mistake in bear country you don’t have to keep making mistakes. Just pick up this guide again and keep reading. Don’t forget to share your new knowledge with anyone else that might be hunting in grizz country.”

There was still plenty of day left so I broke camp and headed to the trailhead. On my way out I ran into another hunter heading in so I stopped to warn him. I told him there was a dangerous bear in there and I wanted to let him know my experience so that he could hopefully learn from my mistakes and make better use of the tactics in the guide. We chatted for a long time about a lot of things and ended up exchanging numbers. I even offered to give him my copy of the guide so he could start reading the important parts. He thanked me but said he thought he had one at home somewhere that his grandfather had given him before he died and that I should keep mine. He told me he was still going to hunt the area but would stay clear of that basin. Closer to the trailhead I ran into another hunter packing in. I stopped him as well to warn about the bear but he kept asking about what elk I had seen. I tried to tell him about the guide but he was not interested. When I insisted that I tell him about the bear and how I survived he became indignant. He started firing questions: how big was the bear, was it a boar, a sow with cubs, how dark-colored was it, how far were you when you first saw it, how fast did it close the gap? When I told him I had never actually seen the bear he was dumbfounded, then angry. He asked where I got off telling him to change his hunt plan based on something that I couldn’t even see let alone prove was real. I tried to convince him that I was completely sincere but he didn’t want to hear it. When I offered him the guide he made a joke about firestarter and stormed up the trail out of sight.

The first hiker called at the end of that month to tell me that he had a great hunt even though he didn’t get his elk. He thanked me for telling him about the guide and said he’s been reading it a lot.

I have no idea how the other hiker’s hunt went.
 
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