2nd Sunday of Minnesota's deer season up in Hinckley many years ago. Very warm, foggy morning as I walked into a tree stand I'd been given permission to hunt. Temps in the low 40's, and heavy fog as I climbed into the stand, which had plywood sides on it to break the wind.
It's just beginning to get light when I hear something move right below the stand. I'm thinking squirrel as I casually peek over the rail. There's a bear cub right under the stand digging for acorns! I hear more rustling back behind me and turn on the chair to see another cub about 10 yards from me. When I turned on the chair, it squeaked a bit. Little did I know, but Momma bear was back somewhere behind the other cub. All of a sudden I hear this low gutteral growl as she busted me, stood up on her hind legs and woofed at me. The cub under my stand bolts-the other cub runs over AND STARTS CLIMBING THE TREE I'M SITTING IN! Momma comes on a dead run, determined to separate her cub from whatever made that tree squeak at her. She's about half way up the tree I'm sitting in when I got the gun pointed somewhere in her general direction and pulled the trigger. Somehow, I didn't shoot my self in the foot-never came close to her. She bails out of my tree and tears off through the woods, growling and woofing all the way. She must have batted one of the cubs because one of them let out a bawl as they haul azz for places unknown. About 50 yards out from me I saw this birch tree about as big around as my thigh explode and fall to the ground. Momma ran right through that tree, smashed it to smithereens and never even slowed down. I was shaking so bad I darned near dropped my rifle. I gained a lot of respect for how fast a bear can move. If you ever give any thoughts to outrunning one, you might want to consider plan B.
