Post by tuketu on Mar 21, 2016 8:32:12 GMT -4
Sideswipe was having some issues trying to post his story but I was able work things out!
Enjoy!
tuk
d 1
ENCOUNTER ON ROAD 117
Well as you know, the Spring Bear Damage Control hunt I was drawn for began on 14 April & ends on 31 May. I sent you a couple of previous emails outlining obtaining a DNR gate key, map, & my efforts to get familiar w/the hunt area as much as time & gas $ allowed. Basically, I have been going out twice a wk (every Thurs & Fri) & avoiding the weekends when a majority of the other 19 hunters would be out. I have kept in contact w/Derrick, the security man & gate guard for Sierra Pacific where a lot of the hunt area is located.
On Thursday, 1 May I decided to take a new road off the Hamilton mainline. It was the 110 road. My key fit the gate & I was able to enter this main road leading through Sierra Pacific & DNR land. I don't know how far the road goes for sure as frozen snow drifts at 1000' keep me from going over the top of Alexander Mountain. The snow drifts are retreating steadily now as the weather is slowly warming up. An interesting sidelight about the snowdrifts is that there are deer, elk, & even bear tracks in the snow. Each week, as the snow melts, the tracks get larger & more ragged as they disappear. It is also neat to see the progression of the living forest. Clearcuts w/old growth stumps notched for spring boards back in the hand saw era, newer stumps, & now rising out of the soil are the newly planted trees for yet another harvest long after this hunter's ashes have fertilized the soil.
At the spray painted 2 mile marker I encountered where there had been some selective logging done on the downhill side of the road. The equipment was gone & the slash had been piled up much the same as piles of leaves in someone's backyard. A broken down shop truck had been left behind which I'm sure will be retrieved at a later date. The trees harvested had probably been planted in the Sixties or early Seventies. One interesting note was that as I drove past one of the slash piles at about the 3 mile marker, I noticed something foreign in the pile. I stopped my Jeep & found an old wooden culvert that had been pulled up w/the slash. I may have mentioned it in the previous email but it still holds my interest. In the Pacific Northwest, there is water everywhere in the woods. Small streams are running downhill everywhere. To avoid eroding the road, culverts are put in to allow the runoff to run under the road & exit on the downhill side to continue its headlong rush to the Skagit River that flows across the Lyman/Hamilton farmlands in the valley. Galvanized pipe & now corrugated PVC as well as galvanized pipe is the standard for culverts. This old culvert was made of treated 2X4's that were tongue & groove w/a mitre cut. 13 of these boards fit together in a circle w/cast iron clamps much like the metal bands holding the staves of old wooden barrels together. I have one of the clamps & boards lying in the driveway as I speak. You can still read “MACPHERSON PAT'D CULVERT” stamped into the wood. The inside diameter was a little over 12”- I thought it was interesting anyway.
I glassed the clearcuts at the 4 ½ & 5 mile markers. The reprod was only 3-4' high & native shrub species as well as young tree saplings were sprouting making it a natural feedlot for both deer & elk. In fact, when walking through these areas, there are many places where the hoof traffic is so high it looks freshly cultivated. I can go to an area that had rain 24 hrs earlier & the ground is already freshly turned, especially if there had been a full moon to facilitate nocturnal feeding. My Steiner binoculars didn't spot any four-footed creatures but birds, squirrels, & the constant movement of the shrubbery as the breeze hit them gave the impression that the whole hillside was a living organism.
A couple of hours later, after my jeep failed its snowplow test, I began to slowly move back down the 110 road. It was early afternoon & I had nibbled through about half my lunch & realized if I continued to nibble that I would not have to eat dinner when I returned home in a few hours-I am so spoiled. Driving down the road I remembered that there were 4 old spur roads running off the 110 on the uphill side of the road. Now that I was finished w/my primary objective of going up the 110, I would explore the spur roads on the way down. The first spur went up the hillside about a mile before it was ditched & bermed just beyond an old landing. The landing was overgrown in alder saplings that were up to 4” in diameter which indicates probably 5 or more years since the timber company attempted to keep it maintained. I dismounted & walked over the obstacles to follow where the old skid road went. It was much more overgrown although there were active game trails weaving through the saplings. I walked about 250-300 yds until I encountered snowdrifts & returned to the Jeep. I thought this might be interesting in a couple of wks or during deer season so I returned w/lopping shears & cleared a path so that a hunter could weave among the trees quietly. I didn't start clearing the branches for about 50 yds to discourage the lazier hunters from leaving the cush seats of their 4 X 4'x. I drove down the spur while inspecting the 10” diameter trunks of reprod fir trees on the downhill side of the road. Sure enough! There was evidence of bear peeling from last year. I counted over 15 peeled trees & made a mental note that when the sap starts to flow in a couple of wks & the bark is easy to peel, this might be a good place to try some calling.
The next had evidence that one or two vehicles had been on it in the last wk or two. In several places I had to swerve around downed trees that were laying over the road from last winter's storms. The timber company does not regularly maintain these roads & it pays to always carry some tools. Smaller trees lying flat in the road were merely speed bumps to my Jeep in 4WD. Sometimes the tree trunk was lying from the uphill side of the roadside across & above the roadbed. I got out & used my hand saw & lopping shears to clear off branches & slowly drove under the tree trunk. The road finally dead-ended & petered out to a path. I turned around & went back across the small stream & muddy ditches to the 110. By now my Jeep was several pounds heavier w/mud in the fender wells, bumpers, & all of the undercarriage. Sort of like 1-2” undercoating.
The next road down was identified by an old sign as 117. About 15 yds into the entrance of this narrow road, it appeared to be blocked by an old, small tree devoid of leaves but plenty of limbs. The road also went thru a small cut here which resulted in moss-covered banks on each side about as high as the roof of my Wrangler. On the right side the bank wasn't as steep & had two 3' cedar saplings growing there. I pulled to the right & crawled over the two saplings w/the jeep leaning on about a 30 degree angle. After passing through this minor roadblock the cedars sprang up w/little damage & it appeared as though no one had passed thru-unless someone inspected the moss very closely or my muddy tracks on the other side. In a couple of days the way this stupid weather has been, those tracks will blend into old ones from last year & no one the wiser-stealthy eh? Sometimes when you make your trail too easy, it also makes it obvious. If my little brain can get ideas-so can the other little brains out there w/bear permits. They are my fellow hunters who share my passion but, like golf, there is just a little competitive spirit going on-in case you haven't noticed it yet. I proceeded down this road very slowly, grateful to have a new vehicle (w/a few “baptism” scratches) that was very quiet.
Past that initial “choke point” the area seemed to open up & I was treated to a beautiful tour in the woods. The road wound around the rolling terrain. My tires were mashing down last winter's wet leaves. Green shoots of grass were trying to push the leaves out of the way. All the shrubs, saplings, & larger trees were going crazy w/the start of Spring. Stellar Jays, a Ruffed Grouse, & the everpresent Robins ushered me down the road which reminded of the uniformed, walk-in theater employees guiding guests down the isles w/their flashlights if you got to the movie after the lights went out (OK some of you have to admit you remember that too). Rounding a curve, I spotted the tip of a coyote's tail disappearing into the jungle on the uphill side of the road. This place was so pristine as compared to State or Federal forest land. Of course it's owners are driven by profit motive to maintain it. I think the owners here have a higher degree of motivation than the average government employee who is spending someone else's tax dollars. I was awakened from daydreaming when I reached the next road obstacle. This time two alder trees were down lying across the road. Their trunks were about 8” in diameter. I took my tow strap & fastened it around the butt end of the closest tree & attached it to one of my front tow hooks. A little accelerator pressure in reverse gear & the tree was sliding down the muddy road following my retreating jeep. The second tree wasn't as tall & I just cut some limbs out of it's top on the right hand shoulder of the road & crawled over it. If any of the Yahoos who travel this road after me are using 2 WD pickups, I didn't want to deprive them of any of this road-clearing fun. Well this process continued in one form or another for the next ½ mile. Either driving over, under, or around obstacles. Seems like I was getting out of the jeep every 5 min or so. I wasn't bothered by it because there's a certain excitement in that you might be the first one in months to have come this way.
I finally came to the proverbial fork in the road & had to make a choice. The left fork began a slow climb as it wound around the hillside & appeared to be headed into higher country & perhaps bigger timber & clearcuts. The right fork to me seemed boring as it just followed the contour lines & made for a level roadway, the topography of the hillside allowed it to go in a straight line. Oh well, onward & upward. Taking the left fork, I had to continually stop the jeep & trim branches & up to 3” fallen saplings. My jeep is 15 months old & I have gotten it scratched up enough already. I bought it for hunting but it is only the 3d new car in almost 47 yrs of marriage. Now, on the inside I do leave a tiny amount of animal bloodstains-a carryover from Bob my most faithful hunt'in podner & mentor. He said a little bloodstains on the brim of the hunt'in hat was good luck-I just carried it a little further. Besides, it helps to get rid of that chemical-new car smell! Would I get more than Blacktail buck stains in it this year? Only God knows at this point.
Well, I continued my upward drive until I reached an old landing overgrown w/alder trees. I got out & walked thru the trees to make sure there wasn't a skid road lurking on its backside leading to something good. Nada. I did observe many old scrapes (mostly elk) & the old droppings of deer & elk. I guess they can co-exist. I understood that the larger & active elk herds tend to push the deer out but there seems to be plenty of country for both. Logging provides good habitat for these ungulates, old growth alone would mean starvation or migration. Pretty soon I was at the snow line again & my tracks had pushed further than any other in recent times. It was kind of interesting to see old vehicle & animal tracks from last Fall appearing as the snow receded-misleading. Obviously, no bear sign.
It was easier to drive back down the road to the fork as all the obstacles & paint-scratching branches had been lopped off. I cut hard left (even 2007 jeep 4WD don't like sharp turns) & felt slight complaining from the front CV joints. Actually, the moss & wet leaves were slick enough to provide slippage & prevent any undue strain on the front drive axles of my fairly new toy. I noticed immediately that a set of tire tracks preceded me. However, w/the recently fallen trees & brush I wondered how long ago it was-I couldn't remember when any “good” storms were that had cluttered the roads up w/debris. I'm beginning to realize more & more that carrying tow straps, shovels, & saws are mandatory, especially when solo hunting. Cell phones w/spare, charged batteries, & a few energy bars also add to a sense of well-being. Calling in to wife periodically & leaving a description of the area I plan on being in is also prudent. I was to learn later how important it was to have Derrick, the Sierra Pacific security man's business card w/me actually was. I had made a point to always try to touch base w/him w/regards to what activity was going on w/Sierra Pacific property where I intended to be. I had given him a copy of the DNR map for the special hunt & some of the details as he hadn't been fully informed & needed to know what was going on w/us 20 would-be Nimrods running around on the property he was responsible for surveiling.
Well, the usual stuff about road obstacles continued to bless me. But, all of a sudden, I spotted some scat (to think I would ever get excited about a pile of ____!). I jumped out the jeep feeling 10 years younger & took a closer look. It was jet black w/a few flies buzz'in around it. Flys tell me it can't be too old, eh? I even optimistically stuck my pinky finger into it to see if it was warm-wishful thinking to the 10th power! I then kicked the stuff over to the side of the road. Once disturbed, the interior parts of the turds revealed an emerald green color & the fibrous texture of grass-classic Spring bear diet. OK, all physical fatigue has left & I'm in alert mode. I confess that I kicked the scat over to the side of the road so that subsequent deposits would be verified as new (also to avoid encouraging other Dimrods driving this road-heh heh). A couple of hundred yds later this discovery replayed itself. The official “turd diameter” was less than 2” which was not encouraging. Coke can diameter turds gets you thinking of Boone & Crockett. This was either a small bear or was there a “Spring pucker factor” that I wasn't aware of? (you never know it all). After hiding the 2d pile of scat, I drove on for a few hundred yds until fallen trees stopped me again. This time I could see the end of the road a few yds beyond. I dismounted & took my rifle w/me to chk out the final yds of this road that had redeemed itself from the boring category. I could & my old podner could tell you stories of foolish hunters who ventured far from their vehicles & leaving their “shoot'in irons” in the truck.
Stepping over the fallen, leafless, mossy trees; I wondered how many kritters had done the same thing in the past weeks. I was grateful that my knee implant was almost performing as well as a natural knee. 20 ft beyond I observed a bear footprint in 1” of standing water. It revealed a heel which indicated a rear foot. It measured 3.5” as best as I could determine (it was several days old). Along w/the previous “scatological research” I determined that this was a yearling bear at best & marginal as far as a “shooter” is concerned. For damage control, any bear is a potential liability, but as a hunter, & a grandpa, I had some reservations about shooting a young bear that hadn't a chance to live life.
I tried to hunt the back trip as hard as the previous but that is hard to do. Returning to the jeep, I decided that this road was definitely worth returning to. I planned to stillhunt it & park the jeep at the fork in the road when I returned in subsequent days.
The second time I hunted this road in the following week was pretty much a replay of the previous week. I was encouraged by more samples for my “scatologiclal research”. I also paid more attention to detail as I walked the return trip of this dead-end road. I realized that I had missed more evidence of a hungry, marauding bear that I had seen the first time I still-hunted this road. On the uphill side of the road were many old growth stumps. Many of them had the telltale springboard notches cut in them indicating they were pre-powersaw era logging. Just about every stump had a shingle-sized piece of bark pulled off. It became apparent that a bear was systematically going to each old stump in search of grubs or termites. While I didn't encounter the bear, the new sign was a real encouragement.
The following day I encountered more fresh scat. By this time I had abandoned the crude practice of kicking the scat off the road. I now removed the mitten from one hand & used my fingers to grasp the turds & fling them off the side of the road. I guess I was getting more connected to this bear. At this point, I had only gotten 3 bears in my career & none of them were from “patterning” their behavior. I wondered; can I actually predict the behavior of a bear?”
On 9 May I rose early & made a more concerted effort to get out to the site before the sun rose high in the sky. A Sierra Pacific employee had bladed the 110 road which made driving a little more difficult as the road was soupy. I put the jeep in 4WD & had no problem slowly driving up the 110 although the back end was slowly doing the hula. I pulled off onto the 117 road & noted that no “foreign” tracks had been made since yesterday. I am indeed lucky. Parked the jeep at the fork in the road. Loaded up my Marlin, put on my camo head net & OD mittens (good old US Army glove liners), & proceeded down the road under my own power. The sun was rising & the welcome, warm rays were striking my face. Was it really going to be Spring?! The leaves on the old road were still damp which made for quiet walking. Few critters were stirring. A few robins & chickadees were about in search of lunch. About 1/8 of mile into the hunt I encountered another fresh pile of scat. By now the thrill had diminished as I had encountered the bear's calling cards every day I walked this road.
Wiping the scat juice off my fingers, I replaced my mitten & “moved out”. I had gotten into the pattern of taking 3 small steps & pausing to see & hear what was going on around me. In hindsight, I was zeroing in on the bear's behavior patterns but had also carelessly gotten familiar w/the whole procedure. I continued for about another 1/8 mile. My preferred method of carrying my rifle was the “cradle position” which was allowing the muzzle to project above & in front of my left shoulder while my right hand held the pistol grip w/my index finger not too far from the trigger. A 450 round was in the chamber, the hammer was pulled all the way back & the safety was on-preventing the hammer from falling & causing the firing pin to strike the primer. I had had enough experience to realize that this could be the day that I encountered the bear or it could be just another day trying. I was resigned to enjoying my day in the woods regardless. If my happiness was dependent upon shooting a bear then I would probably be disappointed. I had fortunately gotten past this point in my hunting experience.
It was getting “late” in hunt time as it was 0820. I was rounding a curve in the road w/the sun warming the frontal parts of my body. I felt a gentle cross breeze across my face which added to my sense of hunter's well-being. I looked down at my feet to avoid any object that would make noise. At the 3d step I paused & looked up for the millionth time. As I looked through the bare branches of a shrub, I saw what I thought was a stump. I was puzzled as I didn't remember a stump being at the side of the road there as I has hunted this road 3 or 4 times before. The “stump” was about 30 paces in front of me & approaching the same curve in the road that I was but in the opposite direction.
My heart started beating harder & I noticed that the fingertip of my right index finger ,had moved to rest on the safety. My eyes never left the treestump. It was dark brown w/some light brown at the center/top of the stump. I was frozen except for my pounding heart. This sounds silly, but I remember wondering if my pounding heart knew something my eyes didn't as I only saw a stump & froze as it was the Standard Operating Procedure if anything was different. An 8 second eternity transpired. After about 8 seconds, the top of the “stump” turned its head to the left to face across the old road. My eyes registered this movement & my finger depressed the safety to the “fire” position as though it had a mind of its own. The stump turned into a bear! I was amazed as all the bears who had seen me (& this one had seen me before I had seen it) previously had taken off at full gallop into the next drainage w/o even looking back. Perhaps having all white skin covered w/came & my scent control efforts had confused the bear. He knew I was “something” that was moving but he didn't know what.
I had been standing still for over 8 seconds now, but somehow my lungs began gasping for air as though I had been running. By now the bear had taken 2 steps into the middle of the road towards the downhill side of the road. The bear, a good sized one, was moving slowly but I perceived events to be moving faster that perhaps they actually were. I placed the butt of the rifle into my shoulder & got a sight picture. It all happened so fast. I cannot honestly remember the exact sight picture. My plan was to place the crosshairs just behind the shoulder & midway between the top of the back & the bottom of the chest.
I squeezed the trigger & the bear immediately went down hard. I instinctively jacked another cartridge into the chamber, got a sight picture & waited. I smelled the burned powder of the fired round & noticed that my heart was still racing. The sun was still shining but the woods where I was seemed to be strangely silent but w/a sense of expectency.
Sure enough, after 4 seconds, the bear began to get up. I put a round behind & slightly lower than the right ear. I owed bear to end it quickly. The bear never moved again. I carefully approached him. As I got within 5 feet I realized that he was not breathing. Reaching the bear, I laid my rifle down & kneeled beside the still bear. I was compelled to repeat the drama between hunter & game that had taken place since the beginning of time. I kneeled down & thanked the Father for this bear. I vowed that I would try my best to not waste any of the meat He provided.
As I stood there I realized that this was not the small yearling that I had anticipated meeting on this road. I took some pictures & rolled him over. I slowly realized that this was the biggest bear that I had ever taken. His coat, claws & muscular upper body was a sight to behold.
I was careful to guide my knife so that the blade faced from the inside out so that the coarse, horsehair-like coat wouldn't dull my knife as quickly. His stomach was full of grass which was typical of a recently “activated” bear. While it was warm in the morning sun, steam still streamed from his inner body as I worked.
After field-dressing him, I got my jeep & maneuvered it so that I could load him. The last bear I had taken while hunting alone was a young boar a little less than 200#. After retrieving my old Cherokee, I had to creep down a steep skid road to where he was. 4WD Lo Range barely kept the jeep from sliding down the old trail. I was able to sit the bear up w/his chin & paws in the back of the jeep above the rear bumper. The young bear looked as though he was saying his prayers. I then squatted down & grabbed two handfuls of rump & squat-lifted him into the jeep. All well & good several years ago. Today as I struggled to just get the bigger bear into a sitting position behind my Wrangler it became apparent that I had a problem. I could barely get one arm & his chin up to the back bumper but dead weight & gravity always won. After about 30 min I realized I would have to quarter him or get help.
I reached for the cell phone & called Derrick, the Sierra Pacific man. I was relieved when his cheerful voice answered. After telling him my need, he said he would be right up. I tried to be patient. While it was far from summer weather, the sun was out & it was in the low 60's. I was anxious to get this bear home & skinned to cool off. This was my forth year of bear hunting in WA & I finally got one & wanted to take care of the meat. Derrick got there in about 30 min. His 4X4 truck stood higher than my jeep so he had to stop & cut some fallen limbs/trees in a couple of places. With a second pair of hands the bear was soon loaded. I thanked Derrick & promised him some pictures & set off for home. By the time my jeep was on the hardball, two hours had transpired since I had pulled the trigger. It seemed like a long time, but recalling stories of hauling bears out of remote locations reminded me how lucky I had been.
As I complete this long-winded story, the hearty aroma of crock pot bear roast has filled the house. My wife also cooked one today for our daughter & family. I have had pepperoni, & bear summer sausage before, but this is the first time I butchered my own & set aside cuts other than for grinding. At this point I am wavering between loving my venison or “crossing over” to this cousin of the pig family. I believe every true hunter loves the outdoors and all wildlife. As much as we enjoy harvesting game, no real hunter would want to endanger the existence of the species. I doubt that I have any traces of indian blood in me but I think we share a lot in common w/these early hunters who respected both the land & their quarry.
Hope I didn't put you to sleep. Bruce aka Sideswipe
Enjoy!
tuk
d 1
ENCOUNTER ON ROAD 117
Well as you know, the Spring Bear Damage Control hunt I was drawn for began on 14 April & ends on 31 May. I sent you a couple of previous emails outlining obtaining a DNR gate key, map, & my efforts to get familiar w/the hunt area as much as time & gas $ allowed. Basically, I have been going out twice a wk (every Thurs & Fri) & avoiding the weekends when a majority of the other 19 hunters would be out. I have kept in contact w/Derrick, the security man & gate guard for Sierra Pacific where a lot of the hunt area is located.
On Thursday, 1 May I decided to take a new road off the Hamilton mainline. It was the 110 road. My key fit the gate & I was able to enter this main road leading through Sierra Pacific & DNR land. I don't know how far the road goes for sure as frozen snow drifts at 1000' keep me from going over the top of Alexander Mountain. The snow drifts are retreating steadily now as the weather is slowly warming up. An interesting sidelight about the snowdrifts is that there are deer, elk, & even bear tracks in the snow. Each week, as the snow melts, the tracks get larger & more ragged as they disappear. It is also neat to see the progression of the living forest. Clearcuts w/old growth stumps notched for spring boards back in the hand saw era, newer stumps, & now rising out of the soil are the newly planted trees for yet another harvest long after this hunter's ashes have fertilized the soil.
At the spray painted 2 mile marker I encountered where there had been some selective logging done on the downhill side of the road. The equipment was gone & the slash had been piled up much the same as piles of leaves in someone's backyard. A broken down shop truck had been left behind which I'm sure will be retrieved at a later date. The trees harvested had probably been planted in the Sixties or early Seventies. One interesting note was that as I drove past one of the slash piles at about the 3 mile marker, I noticed something foreign in the pile. I stopped my Jeep & found an old wooden culvert that had been pulled up w/the slash. I may have mentioned it in the previous email but it still holds my interest. In the Pacific Northwest, there is water everywhere in the woods. Small streams are running downhill everywhere. To avoid eroding the road, culverts are put in to allow the runoff to run under the road & exit on the downhill side to continue its headlong rush to the Skagit River that flows across the Lyman/Hamilton farmlands in the valley. Galvanized pipe & now corrugated PVC as well as galvanized pipe is the standard for culverts. This old culvert was made of treated 2X4's that were tongue & groove w/a mitre cut. 13 of these boards fit together in a circle w/cast iron clamps much like the metal bands holding the staves of old wooden barrels together. I have one of the clamps & boards lying in the driveway as I speak. You can still read “MACPHERSON PAT'D CULVERT” stamped into the wood. The inside diameter was a little over 12”- I thought it was interesting anyway.
I glassed the clearcuts at the 4 ½ & 5 mile markers. The reprod was only 3-4' high & native shrub species as well as young tree saplings were sprouting making it a natural feedlot for both deer & elk. In fact, when walking through these areas, there are many places where the hoof traffic is so high it looks freshly cultivated. I can go to an area that had rain 24 hrs earlier & the ground is already freshly turned, especially if there had been a full moon to facilitate nocturnal feeding. My Steiner binoculars didn't spot any four-footed creatures but birds, squirrels, & the constant movement of the shrubbery as the breeze hit them gave the impression that the whole hillside was a living organism.
A couple of hours later, after my jeep failed its snowplow test, I began to slowly move back down the 110 road. It was early afternoon & I had nibbled through about half my lunch & realized if I continued to nibble that I would not have to eat dinner when I returned home in a few hours-I am so spoiled. Driving down the road I remembered that there were 4 old spur roads running off the 110 on the uphill side of the road. Now that I was finished w/my primary objective of going up the 110, I would explore the spur roads on the way down. The first spur went up the hillside about a mile before it was ditched & bermed just beyond an old landing. The landing was overgrown in alder saplings that were up to 4” in diameter which indicates probably 5 or more years since the timber company attempted to keep it maintained. I dismounted & walked over the obstacles to follow where the old skid road went. It was much more overgrown although there were active game trails weaving through the saplings. I walked about 250-300 yds until I encountered snowdrifts & returned to the Jeep. I thought this might be interesting in a couple of wks or during deer season so I returned w/lopping shears & cleared a path so that a hunter could weave among the trees quietly. I didn't start clearing the branches for about 50 yds to discourage the lazier hunters from leaving the cush seats of their 4 X 4'x. I drove down the spur while inspecting the 10” diameter trunks of reprod fir trees on the downhill side of the road. Sure enough! There was evidence of bear peeling from last year. I counted over 15 peeled trees & made a mental note that when the sap starts to flow in a couple of wks & the bark is easy to peel, this might be a good place to try some calling.
The next had evidence that one or two vehicles had been on it in the last wk or two. In several places I had to swerve around downed trees that were laying over the road from last winter's storms. The timber company does not regularly maintain these roads & it pays to always carry some tools. Smaller trees lying flat in the road were merely speed bumps to my Jeep in 4WD. Sometimes the tree trunk was lying from the uphill side of the roadside across & above the roadbed. I got out & used my hand saw & lopping shears to clear off branches & slowly drove under the tree trunk. The road finally dead-ended & petered out to a path. I turned around & went back across the small stream & muddy ditches to the 110. By now my Jeep was several pounds heavier w/mud in the fender wells, bumpers, & all of the undercarriage. Sort of like 1-2” undercoating.
The next road down was identified by an old sign as 117. About 15 yds into the entrance of this narrow road, it appeared to be blocked by an old, small tree devoid of leaves but plenty of limbs. The road also went thru a small cut here which resulted in moss-covered banks on each side about as high as the roof of my Wrangler. On the right side the bank wasn't as steep & had two 3' cedar saplings growing there. I pulled to the right & crawled over the two saplings w/the jeep leaning on about a 30 degree angle. After passing through this minor roadblock the cedars sprang up w/little damage & it appeared as though no one had passed thru-unless someone inspected the moss very closely or my muddy tracks on the other side. In a couple of days the way this stupid weather has been, those tracks will blend into old ones from last year & no one the wiser-stealthy eh? Sometimes when you make your trail too easy, it also makes it obvious. If my little brain can get ideas-so can the other little brains out there w/bear permits. They are my fellow hunters who share my passion but, like golf, there is just a little competitive spirit going on-in case you haven't noticed it yet. I proceeded down this road very slowly, grateful to have a new vehicle (w/a few “baptism” scratches) that was very quiet.
Past that initial “choke point” the area seemed to open up & I was treated to a beautiful tour in the woods. The road wound around the rolling terrain. My tires were mashing down last winter's wet leaves. Green shoots of grass were trying to push the leaves out of the way. All the shrubs, saplings, & larger trees were going crazy w/the start of Spring. Stellar Jays, a Ruffed Grouse, & the everpresent Robins ushered me down the road which reminded of the uniformed, walk-in theater employees guiding guests down the isles w/their flashlights if you got to the movie after the lights went out (OK some of you have to admit you remember that too). Rounding a curve, I spotted the tip of a coyote's tail disappearing into the jungle on the uphill side of the road. This place was so pristine as compared to State or Federal forest land. Of course it's owners are driven by profit motive to maintain it. I think the owners here have a higher degree of motivation than the average government employee who is spending someone else's tax dollars. I was awakened from daydreaming when I reached the next road obstacle. This time two alder trees were down lying across the road. Their trunks were about 8” in diameter. I took my tow strap & fastened it around the butt end of the closest tree & attached it to one of my front tow hooks. A little accelerator pressure in reverse gear & the tree was sliding down the muddy road following my retreating jeep. The second tree wasn't as tall & I just cut some limbs out of it's top on the right hand shoulder of the road & crawled over it. If any of the Yahoos who travel this road after me are using 2 WD pickups, I didn't want to deprive them of any of this road-clearing fun. Well this process continued in one form or another for the next ½ mile. Either driving over, under, or around obstacles. Seems like I was getting out of the jeep every 5 min or so. I wasn't bothered by it because there's a certain excitement in that you might be the first one in months to have come this way.
I finally came to the proverbial fork in the road & had to make a choice. The left fork began a slow climb as it wound around the hillside & appeared to be headed into higher country & perhaps bigger timber & clearcuts. The right fork to me seemed boring as it just followed the contour lines & made for a level roadway, the topography of the hillside allowed it to go in a straight line. Oh well, onward & upward. Taking the left fork, I had to continually stop the jeep & trim branches & up to 3” fallen saplings. My jeep is 15 months old & I have gotten it scratched up enough already. I bought it for hunting but it is only the 3d new car in almost 47 yrs of marriage. Now, on the inside I do leave a tiny amount of animal bloodstains-a carryover from Bob my most faithful hunt'in podner & mentor. He said a little bloodstains on the brim of the hunt'in hat was good luck-I just carried it a little further. Besides, it helps to get rid of that chemical-new car smell! Would I get more than Blacktail buck stains in it this year? Only God knows at this point.
Well, I continued my upward drive until I reached an old landing overgrown w/alder trees. I got out & walked thru the trees to make sure there wasn't a skid road lurking on its backside leading to something good. Nada. I did observe many old scrapes (mostly elk) & the old droppings of deer & elk. I guess they can co-exist. I understood that the larger & active elk herds tend to push the deer out but there seems to be plenty of country for both. Logging provides good habitat for these ungulates, old growth alone would mean starvation or migration. Pretty soon I was at the snow line again & my tracks had pushed further than any other in recent times. It was kind of interesting to see old vehicle & animal tracks from last Fall appearing as the snow receded-misleading. Obviously, no bear sign.
It was easier to drive back down the road to the fork as all the obstacles & paint-scratching branches had been lopped off. I cut hard left (even 2007 jeep 4WD don't like sharp turns) & felt slight complaining from the front CV joints. Actually, the moss & wet leaves were slick enough to provide slippage & prevent any undue strain on the front drive axles of my fairly new toy. I noticed immediately that a set of tire tracks preceded me. However, w/the recently fallen trees & brush I wondered how long ago it was-I couldn't remember when any “good” storms were that had cluttered the roads up w/debris. I'm beginning to realize more & more that carrying tow straps, shovels, & saws are mandatory, especially when solo hunting. Cell phones w/spare, charged batteries, & a few energy bars also add to a sense of well-being. Calling in to wife periodically & leaving a description of the area I plan on being in is also prudent. I was to learn later how important it was to have Derrick, the Sierra Pacific security man's business card w/me actually was. I had made a point to always try to touch base w/him w/regards to what activity was going on w/Sierra Pacific property where I intended to be. I had given him a copy of the DNR map for the special hunt & some of the details as he hadn't been fully informed & needed to know what was going on w/us 20 would-be Nimrods running around on the property he was responsible for surveiling.
Well, the usual stuff about road obstacles continued to bless me. But, all of a sudden, I spotted some scat (to think I would ever get excited about a pile of ____!). I jumped out the jeep feeling 10 years younger & took a closer look. It was jet black w/a few flies buzz'in around it. Flys tell me it can't be too old, eh? I even optimistically stuck my pinky finger into it to see if it was warm-wishful thinking to the 10th power! I then kicked the stuff over to the side of the road. Once disturbed, the interior parts of the turds revealed an emerald green color & the fibrous texture of grass-classic Spring bear diet. OK, all physical fatigue has left & I'm in alert mode. I confess that I kicked the scat over to the side of the road so that subsequent deposits would be verified as new (also to avoid encouraging other Dimrods driving this road-heh heh). A couple of hundred yds later this discovery replayed itself. The official “turd diameter” was less than 2” which was not encouraging. Coke can diameter turds gets you thinking of Boone & Crockett. This was either a small bear or was there a “Spring pucker factor” that I wasn't aware of? (you never know it all). After hiding the 2d pile of scat, I drove on for a few hundred yds until fallen trees stopped me again. This time I could see the end of the road a few yds beyond. I dismounted & took my rifle w/me to chk out the final yds of this road that had redeemed itself from the boring category. I could & my old podner could tell you stories of foolish hunters who ventured far from their vehicles & leaving their “shoot'in irons” in the truck.
Stepping over the fallen, leafless, mossy trees; I wondered how many kritters had done the same thing in the past weeks. I was grateful that my knee implant was almost performing as well as a natural knee. 20 ft beyond I observed a bear footprint in 1” of standing water. It revealed a heel which indicated a rear foot. It measured 3.5” as best as I could determine (it was several days old). Along w/the previous “scatological research” I determined that this was a yearling bear at best & marginal as far as a “shooter” is concerned. For damage control, any bear is a potential liability, but as a hunter, & a grandpa, I had some reservations about shooting a young bear that hadn't a chance to live life.
I tried to hunt the back trip as hard as the previous but that is hard to do. Returning to the jeep, I decided that this road was definitely worth returning to. I planned to stillhunt it & park the jeep at the fork in the road when I returned in subsequent days.
The second time I hunted this road in the following week was pretty much a replay of the previous week. I was encouraged by more samples for my “scatologiclal research”. I also paid more attention to detail as I walked the return trip of this dead-end road. I realized that I had missed more evidence of a hungry, marauding bear that I had seen the first time I still-hunted this road. On the uphill side of the road were many old growth stumps. Many of them had the telltale springboard notches cut in them indicating they were pre-powersaw era logging. Just about every stump had a shingle-sized piece of bark pulled off. It became apparent that a bear was systematically going to each old stump in search of grubs or termites. While I didn't encounter the bear, the new sign was a real encouragement.
The following day I encountered more fresh scat. By this time I had abandoned the crude practice of kicking the scat off the road. I now removed the mitten from one hand & used my fingers to grasp the turds & fling them off the side of the road. I guess I was getting more connected to this bear. At this point, I had only gotten 3 bears in my career & none of them were from “patterning” their behavior. I wondered; can I actually predict the behavior of a bear?”
On 9 May I rose early & made a more concerted effort to get out to the site before the sun rose high in the sky. A Sierra Pacific employee had bladed the 110 road which made driving a little more difficult as the road was soupy. I put the jeep in 4WD & had no problem slowly driving up the 110 although the back end was slowly doing the hula. I pulled off onto the 117 road & noted that no “foreign” tracks had been made since yesterday. I am indeed lucky. Parked the jeep at the fork in the road. Loaded up my Marlin, put on my camo head net & OD mittens (good old US Army glove liners), & proceeded down the road under my own power. The sun was rising & the welcome, warm rays were striking my face. Was it really going to be Spring?! The leaves on the old road were still damp which made for quiet walking. Few critters were stirring. A few robins & chickadees were about in search of lunch. About 1/8 of mile into the hunt I encountered another fresh pile of scat. By now the thrill had diminished as I had encountered the bear's calling cards every day I walked this road.
Wiping the scat juice off my fingers, I replaced my mitten & “moved out”. I had gotten into the pattern of taking 3 small steps & pausing to see & hear what was going on around me. In hindsight, I was zeroing in on the bear's behavior patterns but had also carelessly gotten familiar w/the whole procedure. I continued for about another 1/8 mile. My preferred method of carrying my rifle was the “cradle position” which was allowing the muzzle to project above & in front of my left shoulder while my right hand held the pistol grip w/my index finger not too far from the trigger. A 450 round was in the chamber, the hammer was pulled all the way back & the safety was on-preventing the hammer from falling & causing the firing pin to strike the primer. I had had enough experience to realize that this could be the day that I encountered the bear or it could be just another day trying. I was resigned to enjoying my day in the woods regardless. If my happiness was dependent upon shooting a bear then I would probably be disappointed. I had fortunately gotten past this point in my hunting experience.
It was getting “late” in hunt time as it was 0820. I was rounding a curve in the road w/the sun warming the frontal parts of my body. I felt a gentle cross breeze across my face which added to my sense of hunter's well-being. I looked down at my feet to avoid any object that would make noise. At the 3d step I paused & looked up for the millionth time. As I looked through the bare branches of a shrub, I saw what I thought was a stump. I was puzzled as I didn't remember a stump being at the side of the road there as I has hunted this road 3 or 4 times before. The “stump” was about 30 paces in front of me & approaching the same curve in the road that I was but in the opposite direction.
My heart started beating harder & I noticed that the fingertip of my right index finger ,had moved to rest on the safety. My eyes never left the treestump. It was dark brown w/some light brown at the center/top of the stump. I was frozen except for my pounding heart. This sounds silly, but I remember wondering if my pounding heart knew something my eyes didn't as I only saw a stump & froze as it was the Standard Operating Procedure if anything was different. An 8 second eternity transpired. After about 8 seconds, the top of the “stump” turned its head to the left to face across the old road. My eyes registered this movement & my finger depressed the safety to the “fire” position as though it had a mind of its own. The stump turned into a bear! I was amazed as all the bears who had seen me (& this one had seen me before I had seen it) previously had taken off at full gallop into the next drainage w/o even looking back. Perhaps having all white skin covered w/came & my scent control efforts had confused the bear. He knew I was “something” that was moving but he didn't know what.
I had been standing still for over 8 seconds now, but somehow my lungs began gasping for air as though I had been running. By now the bear had taken 2 steps into the middle of the road towards the downhill side of the road. The bear, a good sized one, was moving slowly but I perceived events to be moving faster that perhaps they actually were. I placed the butt of the rifle into my shoulder & got a sight picture. It all happened so fast. I cannot honestly remember the exact sight picture. My plan was to place the crosshairs just behind the shoulder & midway between the top of the back & the bottom of the chest.
I squeezed the trigger & the bear immediately went down hard. I instinctively jacked another cartridge into the chamber, got a sight picture & waited. I smelled the burned powder of the fired round & noticed that my heart was still racing. The sun was still shining but the woods where I was seemed to be strangely silent but w/a sense of expectency.
Sure enough, after 4 seconds, the bear began to get up. I put a round behind & slightly lower than the right ear. I owed bear to end it quickly. The bear never moved again. I carefully approached him. As I got within 5 feet I realized that he was not breathing. Reaching the bear, I laid my rifle down & kneeled beside the still bear. I was compelled to repeat the drama between hunter & game that had taken place since the beginning of time. I kneeled down & thanked the Father for this bear. I vowed that I would try my best to not waste any of the meat He provided.
As I stood there I realized that this was not the small yearling that I had anticipated meeting on this road. I took some pictures & rolled him over. I slowly realized that this was the biggest bear that I had ever taken. His coat, claws & muscular upper body was a sight to behold.
I was careful to guide my knife so that the blade faced from the inside out so that the coarse, horsehair-like coat wouldn't dull my knife as quickly. His stomach was full of grass which was typical of a recently “activated” bear. While it was warm in the morning sun, steam still streamed from his inner body as I worked.
After field-dressing him, I got my jeep & maneuvered it so that I could load him. The last bear I had taken while hunting alone was a young boar a little less than 200#. After retrieving my old Cherokee, I had to creep down a steep skid road to where he was. 4WD Lo Range barely kept the jeep from sliding down the old trail. I was able to sit the bear up w/his chin & paws in the back of the jeep above the rear bumper. The young bear looked as though he was saying his prayers. I then squatted down & grabbed two handfuls of rump & squat-lifted him into the jeep. All well & good several years ago. Today as I struggled to just get the bigger bear into a sitting position behind my Wrangler it became apparent that I had a problem. I could barely get one arm & his chin up to the back bumper but dead weight & gravity always won. After about 30 min I realized I would have to quarter him or get help.
I reached for the cell phone & called Derrick, the Sierra Pacific man. I was relieved when his cheerful voice answered. After telling him my need, he said he would be right up. I tried to be patient. While it was far from summer weather, the sun was out & it was in the low 60's. I was anxious to get this bear home & skinned to cool off. This was my forth year of bear hunting in WA & I finally got one & wanted to take care of the meat. Derrick got there in about 30 min. His 4X4 truck stood higher than my jeep so he had to stop & cut some fallen limbs/trees in a couple of places. With a second pair of hands the bear was soon loaded. I thanked Derrick & promised him some pictures & set off for home. By the time my jeep was on the hardball, two hours had transpired since I had pulled the trigger. It seemed like a long time, but recalling stories of hauling bears out of remote locations reminded me how lucky I had been.
As I complete this long-winded story, the hearty aroma of crock pot bear roast has filled the house. My wife also cooked one today for our daughter & family. I have had pepperoni, & bear summer sausage before, but this is the first time I butchered my own & set aside cuts other than for grinding. At this point I am wavering between loving my venison or “crossing over” to this cousin of the pig family. I believe every true hunter loves the outdoors and all wildlife. As much as we enjoy harvesting game, no real hunter would want to endanger the existence of the species. I doubt that I have any traces of indian blood in me but I think we share a lot in common w/these early hunters who respected both the land & their quarry.
Hope I didn't put you to sleep. Bruce aka Sideswipe
