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It was the 12th day of the season, and already I had spent over 24 hours in my stand. The Labor Day Monday opening day had made it difficult to get any
extended time off, and I'd only been able to hunt 4 days. And the weather had not been very cooperative. I'd hunted in everything from 85+ degree heat wearing only thin cotton shorts and a tank beneath my camouflage netting to a
50 degree cold rain wearing several warm layers and a rain suit.
But this day, as I climbed up into my stand, I was confident that it would be a
good day. My husband's "bear-o-meter" was going off, and I had learned long
ago that when he gets that feeling, to pay attention. Besides, it was a perfect
afternoon to sit quietly in a tree and wait. No howling wind. No rain. No heat.
There was only the peace and quiet that is the essence of the northern
Minnesota forest. I got settled in as my husband dumped more bait and reset the
crib. We blew each other a kiss and he quietly headed back down the trail.
My ladder stand hides in a thick stand of trees, but still, it has a blind built around
it with camouflage fabric and tree branches tied on for cover. A small window
looks out the to the bait area 15 yards away. From the ground, I'm virtually
invisible. Inside, I'm well shaded and can move slowly without fear of being
noticed. This was our sixth year hunting bear together, and each year my
husband and I worked hard to perfect our game; we kept what worked the year
before, threw out what didn't work, tried new ideas and new baits, learned from
talking with others, scoured the internet for information, and absorbed as much
knowledge as we could about what it takes to lure in a black bear during legal
shooting hours. Judging from the activity so far this season, our persistence was
paying off and we were having our best year ever. We had both seen multiple
bears at each outing, and my husband had already harvested a respectable
bear. The meat was in the freezer and we would savor it through the winter for
our special meals. This gave me the go ahead to relax a bit and take my pick of
the rest of the quarry.
I had an entertaining afternoon show to watch with a delightful mix of players;
squirrels, chipmunks, both blue and Canada jays, magpies, chickadees, kinglets,
redstarts; they all enjoyed feasting on the goodies at the bait site. The funniest
participant was a ruffed grouse that put on an interesting display right underneath
my stand, and so the afternoon passed quickly. At five o'clock, something made
me lean forward and take a look out to the side. Generally speaking, you can
hear the bears as they make their way close to the bait site. A twig snap, a sniff,
a lick…but this one had come in silence. He seemed particularly anxious as he
paced back and forth; obviously wanting to come into the bait, but too cautious to
do so. He stood up on his hind legs for a better look, which made me think there
was likely a bigger bear near by that he wanted to stay clear of. I was able to
watch him for a good five minutes before he took off running. I would guess he
went about 50 yards before he stopped. Hopefully he would be back, or
whatever spooked him would show up.
The next two hours seemed to go by slowly, and I was getting restless. I could
feel a cold coming on, and my body was feeling a bit stiff and achy. It became
necessary to stand up to stretch my legs, but thanks to my shelter, I was able to
do so unnoticed and without making any noise, and soon I was settled back in
and comfortable. At seven o'clock, I took another look to the side, and there he
was, back in the same spot. This time he wasn't as anxious, and within five
minutes he had worked his way around the brush and was making his way into
the clearing. I slowly picked up my rifle, and laid it on my lap. When the
opportunity presented itself, I would be ready. He was a beautiful bear with a
thick, jet black coat, a honey-brown muzzle, and a white blaze on his chest. Not
a monster bruin, but he was a hefty bear, bigger than the last bear I had
harvested, and he was bigger than my husband's bear, so he was definitely a
"shooter". At first he hugged the near brush line, which shielded most of his body
from me. Twice he stepped into an opening, but had his big fat butt facing me.
At one point, he was balancing all fours on a ten inch flat rock, obviously not
wanting to get his feet dirty…I almost burst out laughing when he assumed the
"Dumbo position" and lifted one back paw to keep his balance as he leaned
forward and ate from the bait pile. But as he picked through the pile his front leg
was always protecting his vital zone. And so he came and went without
providing me with a clean kill shot, but also without knowing I was there. He
would be back, but probably not during legal shooting hours on this night.
As darkness took over, I quietly left and made my way down the hill, taking the
long trail around to keep the bait area as undisturbed as possible. It's a good 10
minute hike down a steep hill to a gravel pit that has road access, but the moon
was bright and there was no need to turn on my headlamp. With perfect timing,
my husband pulled in to the gravel pit just as I came off the trail. As I unloaded
my weapon, I told him about the shot that never came. We stood in the
brightness of a clear sky and nearly full moon and I shared with him the details of
my evening. I thanked him for the work he had done keeping up with the daily
baiting, and teased him that his work was not over yet. There were four weeks
left in the season, and tomorrow is another day, and another opportunity to hunt
black bear in the big woods of northern Minnesota.
It was now day 20 of the 2008 bear hunting season, and the first opportunity I’d
had to get back into the woods. The ache I had felt during my last outing had
turned into a full blown cold. Thanks to a selection of OTC cold aides, I was just
now able to make it for any length of time without coughing, sneezing, or blowing
my nose. The bait site had been a flurry of activity all week with multiple bears
visiting at various times of the day. The scouting cameras had given us good
photo confirmation of a large sow with two cubs, and three different mature
bears. Of particular interest to me was the photo of the bear with the blaze that I
had seen the week before. He was still making regular visits to the bait site, but
not always during legal shooting hours. I was hoping he would choose tonight to
make a visit, but I had to face the fact that the season was half over and the
woods were filling up with grouse hunters and archery deer hunters, making a
bear’s visit during legal shooting hours much more unlikely. I had decided that I
would take the first respectable bear that came in.
I was settled in my stand by 3:30pm, and prepared myself for a long afternoon. It
was a perfect late summer day with mild temperatures and very little wind. But
the woods were so noisy! Squirrels and chipmunks running over drying leaves
and sparrows flitting through the brush made a terrific racket. It was no wonder
that I never heard the bear approach. It was relatively early, seven o’clock, when
the animal walked right into the bait site without hesitation. This bear was not the
one with the blaze, but it was a definite shooter. It had a familiar face, one I had
seen from the trail camera photos, and it had always appeared alone. Still, I
could not tell if it was a boar or a sow, so I waited to make sure there were no
cubs along. Once I had decided I would take my shot, I carefully lifted my rifle
from its resting place. But not quite careful enough; the stock bumped the metal
stand and let out a soft "ping". OMG!! My heart nearly fell out my feet and I froze,
knowing the bear had heard the noise as well. It stopped, looked around, stood
up and looked behind it, then went back to feeding. After I took a minute to
regain my composure, I slowly raised my weapon, took careful aim, and made
my shot. It was a good solid hit, and the bear ran, but not far. I waited 15
minutes before I slowly and quietly made my way out of the stand. But I
practically ran down the hill! Talk about excitement... a true adrenalin rush.
Daylight was gone. The area around the bait site was extremely dense, so
recovery would have to take place in the morning. Trailing an animal that is at
the top of the food chain is not something to do alone and in the dark, I don’t care
who you are! The night temperature would be cool and there was no chance of
spoilage, so we would wait until morning.
I was back at the bait sight at first light with my husband, and together we tracked
the bear's path for 75 yards through thick brush. She had left an easy trail to
follow, and we had her out of the woods in less than 30 minutes. I'm not sure
who was more excited, my husband or me, but together we celebrated and gave
thanks for a successful season. As we slowly made our way down the hill, the
sun was up and the turning autumn leaves set the woods ablaze with color. The
air was crisp and clean. It was another beautiful day in the big woods of northern
Minnesota.
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