Through the past few years I've tried to make good of my word to Tim. I've been in the woods with some of the best bear-hunters of this century and have been lucky enough to take a several good bears as well as trap several for work. Oregon's fall bear hunt started August 1st, and this would be my first year I would put down my fishing poles, set aside my elk maps, and seriously devote time to fall bears.
My good friend Ron Talbot, brought his family over from the Oregon desert to enjoy the cool breeze the coast offers and perhaps even fill his two bear tags. Opening morning found Trapper Spencer, Ron, and myself glassing across a canyon. The air was crisp with a tang of fir pitch. Things happened quick and Ron shot his first nice bear from just over two-hundred yards away. We had seen 7 bears before we had Ron's first bear packed out of the steep canyon! The blackcap berries were bursting from the vines and the bears were on them like a fat kid with a bucket of popcorn.
That afternoon, Ron tagged his second bear from over 400 yards!
I couldn't sleep. I had bears on the brain and like a drug, I needed my daily fix. Each evening after work, found me perched upon a stump listening for the sounds of hungry bears breaking vegetation to get to the goods. Ralph Flowers preached the importance of listening for bears in his book. I saw bears on most outings, but for one reason or another decided not to kill.
The black bear is an amazing creature. An intelligent animal with the ability to hide in oceans of conifer most of the year. The bear's achilles heel is it's love for fatty foods, like berries, which grow in open areas. It is complete contentment to just sit and observe a hungry bear. Yesterday, I watched a nice-sized male bear reaching high for berry vines. He would pull the vines down with his forepaws and nibble each ripe berry delicately. I too, find the blackcaps to be just right in sweetness and flavor.
A little later, Trapper and I were driving through a large-logged unit. 'Trapper, have you ever seen a bear in this unit?' 'No', Trapper answered 'It looks good though.' We stopped for a moment and started glassing near the bottoms of the canyons where bears hang out to stay cool during the afternoon hours. 'Trapper, nice bear, nice bear!' I shouted pointing in the bottom. A bear had come out of the creek bottom and had found a patch of ripe blackcaps.
I decided it was time to fill my tag. After getting several hundred yards closer I ranged the bear at 258 yards, a range I was comfortable shooting at. What an intese moment! I was ready to pull the trigger on a bear that was within steps from the safety of the creek bottom; meanwhile three giant blacktail bucks were watching me from a few hundred yards away making it really hard to focus on the bear. Trapper videoed the bear as I squeezed the trigger. In a few quick strides the bear was in the creek bottom. After reviewing the shot on film, we felt fairly confident the bear didn't make it too far. We grabbed our pack-frames, my 7mm rem mag, and made our way down the steep mountainside.
Horsetail, alder, willow, and berries choked the small creek making it nearly impossible to even walk across. I found where the bear ran into the bottom. Good Blood! The wounded bear cut a swath through the dense brush. My only option was to follow it. I laid on my belly and with rifle, loaded and ready, slithered into the jungle. I hope this bear is dead! Trapper crawled in behind me with video camera in hand. I couldn't help but think he was really hoping to record some real action in the brush; me and the bear, mano a mano, which I was REALLY hoping to avoid.
I had already rehearsed a thousand times in my mind how to stay cool and protect myself if the bear was to attack. Suddenly, there it lay 3 feet in front of me, motionless. I was certainly relieved. It is a good bear weighing over 200 pounds. I flattened the horsetail and grass surrounding me, providing a cool, flat spot along the creek to butcher the bear.
A loud crash in the brush above us on the mountain startled both of us. We stood up looking uphill to figure out what was making such a commotion. The brush was thick, but you could see the branches getting plowed over as this animal was running down the trail we had just come down from the truck! 'What is it!' I yelled. It was quickly closing the distance. 'A bear!!Get me your gun!!' Trapper responded. I fumbled for the camcorder as Trapper laid the ruger over a fallen branch. The bear turned and parralleled the creekside to downwind us. I pushed record moments before the sharp crack of the 7 rem mag echoed tthrough the canyon. The bear turned towards us and tumbled into the river bottom. All was quiet.
Trapper and I stared at one another in disbelief. I will never know why that big boar was following our trail running at us. The wind was blowing down canyon, opposite from the direction he came from. I believe he could hear us making commotion, breaking sticks, in his berry patch and he didn't like that. I'm glad I packed my rifle down from the truck, especially when we walked up to him and saw how big he was. There was no ground-shrinkage, He was a huge boar weighing over 300 pounds. Two bears down within yards from each other in one afternoon.
Darkness set upon us as we made our last meat cuts. The packs were heavy with meat and hide, but our excitement wouldn't allow the hundred and somethin' pound packs bring us down. There is no greater feeling than hauling your entire prey on your back, setting the pack in the pickup, and resting your aching back. I couldn't help myself, I went again this evening with another friend. I was a bit sore but still managed to see a 4 bears, a cougar, and 3 nice bulls. My friend didn't pull the trigger, which doesn't hurt my feelings. It just means the hunt continues...
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