Funny story: Last year when I was deer hunting in the mountains of Virginia with a friend, we were both on tree stands about 200 yards apart. I saw a big black bear go by my stand, but it was just too far, and too much brush, for a decent shot. I knew it was heading towards my friend's stand, so I just waited.
About 15 minutes later, I hear his 7 Mag go off. Man, that's loud. One shot only.
I waited another 15 minutes or so, and didn't hear anything, so I got down and walked towards his stand, to see if he shot the bear.
My friend weighs about 280 pounds. When I got to his stand, he was standing at the bottom of it, as white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf. He told me that he shot the bear, from about 80 yards away, and that he saw it go down into a heap, but he was too scared to approach it! (I guess he figured his 7 Mag wouldn't stop a "charge".)
Man, what a chicken! He wanted ME to go see if it was dead. I could hardly stop laughing.
I walked in the direction he said, with my little .308 rifle, and there was the bear, dead in a pile. I came up to him and poked him with a stick to make sure he was dead, and then called my friend. As it turned out, the bear was not that big, only about 250 pounds, so in actuality, my friend was bigger than the bear he killed!
Mr. Chickenheart then spent the rest of the season bragging to everyone he knew, that he had killed a bear!
Mannyrock