My First B’ar
Growing up in the Midwest, I didn’t have the occasion to see many bears. Currently, Missouri is seeing black bears making their way north of the Missouri river into the northern half of the state. But when I lived at home, there just weren’t any in our neck of the woods.
When I moved to Montana in 2002, I can still remember the first bear I ever saw. It was a little black bear running in a ditch up a gravel road. The road had cattle pastures on both sides and the owners raised black white faced cattle. I just figured that one of the calves had slipped out of the pen. But when that little bear came up on the road I could tell exactly what it was. That was quite an experience for sure.
In 2003, my little brother came out for his 21st birthday and hunted spring bear with me. I really didn’t know what to do to find bears, so we walked the logging roads. I’d told him I really wasn’t sure how to hunt them and he laughed and said we could learn together. We spent 9 days hunting and logged in 72 miles each on shoe leather. We did walk up on a young bear, but alas, that bear was not meant for him.
The three springs after that saw me not doing much bear hunting, I did a little, but not much. I spent a lot of time scouting for elk and grouse. The whole time though, I paid attention to the trend for greening grass in the area. I had decided this year that I was going to get serious about killing a black bear. So, I started researching as much as I could, read gobs of magazine articles, and most of all, had a friend from church named Randy that told me a lot about bears. Randy used to be a taxidermist and guide for a local outfitter and knows his bears. His insights helped out plenty.
Working midnights, it has been tough getting out to hunt. Most of my hunts consisted of evening hunts. I would come home from work, get 5-6 hours of sleep and then get up and go hunting. The first night I went out, the third week of April, I sat on a clear cut until about 7:30 PM. The sun was just starting to go down. I had heard what sounded like logs rolling an hour earlier over the hill from me, but never saw anything. On the way out that night, I had a bear “woof” at me. It was a guttural, growling sound, mixed with a deep, short “Woof”. I couldn’t see the bear in the timber, so I sat on the logging road for about 20 minutes waiting to see if it would pay me a visit. I then figured the only reason a bear would do that is either if it was on a kill or had cubs. I decided to leave.
The very next trip out I decided to check out a drainage my brother and I had hunted. It’s an area popular with elk hunters, and has very unique terrain features. There are several steep rock walls, a nice creek running through it, with an old logging road that goes around the perimeter of the drainage. This time of year, the wild strawberry plants are getting flowers on them and best of all, it’s grizzly country. This area is known for one, very large grizz, that hangs around that particular area. In ‘03 when my brother and I hunted, he stuck his big number 12 shoe in the hind foot track of that grizzly and the claw marks started just ahead of his toe. I’d love to see that critter, but from quite a ways away.
This drainage also holds several black bears every year. It’s about a 2 mile hike, just to start getting into the good area. I hiked in and after about a mile started finding scat piles. Another mile later, along a rocky face, I see a bear in the trail ahead of me. He’s a nice black bear, without a stitch of white on him. I close the distance on that old logging road from 125 yards, to about 45 yards. The only bad thing was the sun. Low on the horizon, it was in my eyes and I couldn’t see the bears shoulder. He was feeding over the edge of the road, in the shadows. I couldn’t make out his belly or front leg and in the shadows he was simply a black blob. Shortly, he looked up once, then twice and ran out of there. To say I was a wee bit disappointed is an understatement. I was pretty upset with myself, but figured that bear would be back in the area again.
The next two times I went out, I explored other logging roads in the area. The first trip I found a shed from a spike elk. The second trip I hiked in about 3-3.5 miles, and sat from 9:30 AM to 6:30 PM trying to find a bear. I was watching what areas I could. This area’s clear cuts were all grown over and 20 years old or so. I did see a cow moose that day and two whitetails, but that was it. The ticks were very bad in this area and in that time period I probably picked off about 50 different ticks.
So Saturday, May 5th, on Cinco de Mayo, I ventured forth again to find a bear. I had taken several days to think over my strategy. The day I sat so long, the scat had been real close to that area and that hillside was easier to glass. So I figured I’d go out in the afternoon, and perch on the rocks just above where I saw the black bear. I could glass the far hillside and if I got bored with that, I could hike off the rock, walk the road back to the creek, then walk back out to the truck and call it good. I got off work at 10:00 AM, munched on a scone for breakfast, then came home and did some yard work. At 12:30 PM I went to bed and I was up again at 3:00 PM to shower and head out.
On the way to my perch I saw several scat piles that were extremely fresh, probably no older than the day or two before and all the piles were about the same age. I reasoned this was a similar pattern as the black bear had done. The area that bear would probably be in next would be close to where I saw the black bear.
I scaled the rock and sat down on this knob. The rock was very long, several hundred yards and offered a vantage point by which to see down the trail as well as the opposite hillside on the other side of the basin where I had sat the week before. I sat and glassed for a few hours and about 7:20 PM, I decided it was time to take a stroll. I’m not much of one for sitting and I love to still hunt. So I gathered up my things and decided to walk downwind and look at the trail below me from the top of the rock. The road was empty, until I hit my jumping off point to come down to the trail. Then I saw him.
At first all I could see was this light brown bear butt. I was sure by the color it was a grizzly. This area was known to hold one and so I sat down to watch him for a while. The bear was sucking down the green grass like a lawn mower and he finally lifted his head out of the tall grass. This bear had a sloped forehead and long ears. Then I got excited. I was certain it was a black bear.
I sat for 20 minutes watching this bear eat. He had no hump in the shoulder, no dished out face and the long ears of a black bear. I kept watching him and when he stepped in the trail I couldn’t see any claws on his feet. Suddenly, he acted nervous and started walking down the road. I was only about 40 yards away and I knew if I let this bear walk away, I wouldn’t probably have much chance of seeing another bear for the season. Besides, he was a color phase and looked to be a decent sized bear.
I had already shucked my pack and worked my way to the rim of the rock. So when he started walking away, I pursed my lips and gave a mouse squeak. Even with the high wind he heard it and he stopped to look around. I was carrying a .35 Whelen, loaded with 250 grain Speer Hot Cor bullets and traveling at 2450 fps. At the shot, he kicked his hind feet, bit his side and then ran and jumped into an aspen tree. He only managed to climb about 8 feet before he fell to the rock below and then gave his death moan. Most black bears let out a moan when they die. The sound is not unlike that of deflating bagpipes, only much deeper.
Walking upon the bear I was a little disappointed at first. He had fallen in a ball and looked so tiny. I double checked he was dead and then proceeded to take him to the top of the road. If you’ve never dealt with a dead bear, you can’t imagine how difficult they are to move by yourself. It’s like rolling mercury, they are simply a big bag of potatoes and I ended up cart wheeling him backwards up the hill. After a few hasty pictures, I gutted him and measured him and started back to the truck for my game cart. Six total miles (not counting the initial two when I walked in) I was back at the truck and loaded. I had navigated by using a head lamp, but remembered as I got close to the bear that I had not remembered a smaller flashlight. LED headlamps are great for some things, but they only project about 10 yards in front of you. I had wanted to bring a flashlight in case another bear had found the gut pile. Since I had not remembered that, I simply unlimbered my .44 Magnum, pushed the cart with one hand and started singing El Paso by Marty Robbins as I headed up the trail the last 100 yards. It wasn’t necessary, I’m sure, but I figured no bear would stick around for my caterwauling and there was some doubt the gutted bear wouldn’t run away because of it too!
My wife and I started skinning the bear about 1:30 AM and had him finished by 4:30 AM. The taxidermist said I skinned him a bit off center for the center cut, but they could certainly deal with it, which I’m thrilled about. Even 8 hours later, the meat under the hide was still a bit warm and steaming in the 40 degree garage and I’m glad I got the hide off the meat. We cut it up the next day and are awaiting the trichnella testing.
At 60 inches he isn’t a huge bear, but he is average for this area and was about 4 years old. The Game Warden said it was one of the prettiest bears he had seen in several years. Northwest Montana is known for his color phase black bears and this is actually the second bear I’ve seen this color. The first one was a cub with a sow a few years ago. The color alone would have kept several from taking the shot, fearing it was a grizzly and even after it was down and I was sure it was a black bear I had a second thought or two. But I knew it was a black bear when I shot and the Game Warden told me that most bears look a lot different once they are dead and on the ground.
I am having a rug made of it and we kept the hams, back straps and tenderloins. I plan to smoke these up in my smoker and then slow cook them. The rest of the meat I boned and trimmed and will take to a butcher to have made into little smokies and sausage/pepper sticks.
This was one of the most thrilling hunting seasons I’ve had and I enjoyed it immensely. I’ll probably stick to bear hunting in the spring as opposed to fall. Mostly due to the other seasons in the fall, grouse, pheasant, hun, sharptail, deer and elk. But this first bear will always be special. The unique hide and the fact that I worked so hard to get him. He’s got cinnamon coloring down his legs and a blonde dorsal stripe. The eyes are black and he’s got a very golden muzzle. He’ll be mounted on a rug with a backing of camel and chocolate brown and we’ll hang him in the dining room when we get him back. I’m still a little sore from packing him out. But for a first bear, he was definately worth it.
Now, we’ve got to get the wife a turkey this spring and start fishing. Then of course, there is also the issue of yard work that doesn’t seem to go away. But that’s fine. If I happen to get an elk this year, I may very well have to quit hunting, it would be a tough year to top in that case!
