Hope you enjoy this story. This happened, and I learned a lot.
The Three Bears...
Opening day of grouse season, my wife, Sarah, and I took the dog for a drive up the mountain looking for blues. With so much smoke and drought, pickings were few, but we managed a couple of creek bottom ruffs on the way home. Also saw 3 big bears along the road on that trip - so I ran to town the very next day and got me a fresh bear tag.
We returned the next afternoon, after our day's work was complete. Dog was bumming being left behind, so we tossed her a charity biscuit on the way out. We drove on gravel toward a gated logging road, where we could hike in -- but partway there Sarah called out, "BEAR!" She pointed up the hill behind us. I skidded to a halt, grabbed binos and the 7mm from behind the seat. Then she drove off up the road. Perfect!
I stayed quiet in the ditch as the Toyota went out of sight, carefully loading from a pocketful of shells. After a few minutes, glassed up the hill in the direction the bear had fled. I picked my way quietly through the firs and pines, then sat down against a huge trunk and waited. All quiet now. A few silent minutes. The bear will think we left. Good time for a rabbit call, which I had under my sweater, hanging from my neck by a leather shoe lace. I can do a pretty good stuck rabbit impression with it when the chips are down. Today's shrieking rabbit sounded particularly distressed, too. I even gave a couple of whimpers at the end. It sounded like a real Alaska hare, attacked by a starving eagle or a pack of vicious wolves. I smile.
Almost right away, I detected movement on the slope above me. Bear! It was trucking fast in my very direction, through quite thick brush and blow down trees. Must be hungry for rabbit, I say to myself. The brush was too thick to shoot -- but as the lone bear made his way closer, I began to think the 7mm bullet would plow right through the sparse twiggery and nail the bear, if he chose to stop. Then he saw me. He thought he saw me. I wore good camo, and had a good blend going. My rifle rest comfortably on a sapling, and I could see the bear's round shape and brown muzzle in the scope. I dug my knees into the duff. Fair size critter - about 200lbs or so. Still young and tasty, but a good amount of meat... Boom!
I always thought the 7 mag was overkill for bear hunting, especially at close range. So thunderous and violent. A waste of meat if you aren't careful. I made a good shot, but the bear didn't go down. It ran back up into the outcrops and hid. Sch-itt! Maybe I hit a twig? I gave some quiet time. I tried some shrill pleading on the rabbit call, and the bear did turn, and came trucking right back into view. 50 yards looking straight at me. I hold the cross hairs squarely to the bears chest. Boooom! The rifle slapped against my cheek as I watched through the scope. The bear again darted for cover up in the rocks and brush.
I must have hit the bear. I had a good rest, and had a confident squeeze on the trigger. I could have flinched, but it was an easy shot... I'll wait. It was a breezy afternoon, so I listened to the hiss in the trees for a spell. The nuthatches had gone quiet after the blast, but I soon began to hear their peaceful chirping once more. I heard a flicker, then some squirrels scratching around. No sign of my wife. I wonder if she heard the shots? I'll just wait...
Something was stirring below me. About 200 yards. I gripped my binos and spun on my rump. Two somethings... two tiny bear cubs. Sch-itt! Heading right up the slope toward me, cute as pie. About the size of large house cats. Sort of small for fall. My gut grew a pit. Crap! I waited and watched. The cubs were so cute and innocent, I wanted to give each one a biscuit and personal tummy rub. What now, dangit? I Figured I'd just let the cubs go find the mess I made and decide what to do after that. I couldn't waste the bear now. I'd have to field dress it. One of the cubs let out a pitiful bawl, which wrecked what was left of the rest of my day.
After the bawl, mother bear came charging back down the hill. She gathered up her cubs, and stared down at me. The wind was in my favor and my camo was still working good, so she stood up on her rear legs to have a real good look. I had one shot left in my rifle. She appeared unharmed, which was puzzling and a concern. The cubs frolicked around her as she stood tall, surveying the hillside with her nose and eyes. Then she turned quick, galloping uphill with the cubs on her heels.
Holy crapp! What just happened? I hiked up there, combing the hillside for blood or fat, but found nothing. Lots of branches and twigs. Twigs are good. Beneficial in this case. It could be my poor marksmanship or a stiff trigger, which I should lubricate and adjust when I get home. Or, it could very well be the twigs. I could use a smaller gun, too. Maybe then I wouldn't flinch so bad.
Most likely, the Good Lord was watching out for me today -- just keeping me out of trouble. A miracle for the day, if you will. I sure was glad for the cubs, as I hiked to the road. Glad for all three of the bears. I pledged to hunt open country for the rest of bear season. The least I could do. A man can see a good long ways up in the tall burns. And with winter coming on, bears will be moving. I can do a lot of glassing, and pick and choose which bear I want to shoot. And maybe come home with a nice fleecy rug and some good meat. That's the plan, anyway. -Kevin
