Passion for the Hunt
By Rick A. Mouleart
This is a story about a great hunt in the northern territories of Maine, 120 miles southwest of Ft. Kent, at a place called Northern Hideaway. Our camp was located near the Black River, adjacent to the Canadian-U.S. border. It took a sturdy, reliable truck and good navigation tools, since 80 miles of the drive would be on Maine's vast logging roads. We were equipped with a good GPS and Topo maps.
My trip began with my best friend, Bruce Soiett. It would be his first baited bear hunt. I had hunted baited bear in the past, but it is still exciting. This time I was trophy bear hunting. I would not shoot anything less than 300 pounds. My friend, being a first-time baited bear hunter, was originally skeptical as to how this would turn out. We both knew there was a good chance for a huge bruin.
While driving my Jeep Cherokee, all we did was talk about what was to be. Bruce talked about some bear calls we were using, and he practiced these calls by copying a tape we had. Bruce decided he would use the call if things were not happening at the bait sights. We thought that maybe the calls could scare bruins away, so we decided to play it by ear.
The drive through the great state of Maine was beautiful at this time of year. We stopped and took pictures on the way up and ended up stopping at a restaurant in Portage, Maine. This was the last stop before entering Maine's vast logging roads. We stayed the night at a hotel, and planned to be up and out early in the morning to hit the 80-mile trek to camp.
The next morning, we topped off the vehicle and headed out. On the way, we saw many hunters and guides traveling the logging roads. When we came into camp there was a skinner to the left working while the hunters hung around waiting for their bears to be quartered and skinned for tanning. It was something to see. This was the crew before us, and it looked like a successful week. In the back of both our minds, we wondered if this was good or bad for our hunt. Master guide Rod Sirois assured us that all bait hunters got an established and active bait sight that has not been used by any other sportsmen. This increased our chances to still have active bears coming to the bait sites.
Bruce and I are good navigators, so we took my truck to the bait sites. We also took a GPS and did a bread crumb trail for backup in case we got off track. These roads are vast, many rights and lefts, and it was a challenge, but very gratifying to say the least. The first bait sites we took put us about three miles apart. I dropped Bruce off at his stand first, and then continued on to my staged place to park. I opted to leave my truck about two miles before the stand location so as not to spook any bears in the area away. Each night was exciting waiting for a huge bruin, sometimes hearing moose stomping around the forest, beavers slapping their tails warning others of a predator nearby.
After a few days, Rod moved us to another active stand. Other guides baiting those stands recently said they were hot. We drove to the new spot, where I was up on a hill looking down into thick under brush and alpine and a big barrel full of food, and Bruce's stand was off to logging roads facing into the woods, This overlooked an old grown-in logging road and then a clearing, His bait site was full of food, as well. These sites were rather close to the treestand compared to the first ones. I was using a Ruger Mark II all-weather Hogue over molded full bedded rubber stock, 338 WinMag scoped with a Bushnell elite 3200 3x9x40, and a Butlercreek sling, with Beartooth camo neoprene covers, for my scope, barrel, and fore-end and but stock. It's durable and weather proof and non-glare. Bruce was using a Remington semi .30-06 scope with a Bushnell Trophy 3x9x30.
The first three days of the hunt, neither of us saw any bears during shooting time. We were both getting frustrated. We would take my Jeep to the sites around 3 p.m. to be there in plenty of time for our scent to diminish before the bears came to the bait. It was a lot of sitting and not moving. We headed back to the camp hoping our fourth day would produce some bears.
During our time at the camp there was a bunch of good old guys, mostly Navy SEALs and Vietnam-era. This was the last week to hunt, and most every year Rod, also a retired Navy Seal, holds that week for his close friends and a few sportsmen as well. I met some interesting gents. One to speak of was Mr. Tommy Cox, a retired Submarine master. He was the most interesting of them all because he wrote songs about his times and mindset during the war. One night he took out his guitar and played some songs he'd written. We had a lot of fun singing along; I even joined in with my harp for a few songs.
The guides were trying so hard to get us on bears; they would get upset at themselves if sportsmen were not seeing bears. I began wondering about our chances after seeing all the bears being skinned when we first arrived. Sometimes during the bait season, the bears go nocturnal to avoid being seen by humans. I think this was going on at this time. Ultimately, I didn't care; I just loved the great outdoors. There's nothing better to me than being up in God's country, in the fresh air with good friends and good food. What else do you need? I had shot bears before, so this was not something new to me; but, being Bruce's first time, I was really excited for him to score.
When the fourth day arrived, we went to the bait sites to see if they'd been hit. Once we got there, we realized the sites were not touched. We talked to Rod, and he said he would relocate us to an active sight. We were happy and felt this might work. Many guides are willing to relocate you if your site is not active.
So that day we were driven to our sites by our master guide. This area was open in spots and thick in others with many logging roads connecting all around us. I was dropped off first at a high treestand looking down into thick underbrush and pine, and a space where the bait site is set-up. I felt I was in the open too much, but I guess I was high enough to not be seen. Bruce's location was high in a tree, but very close to a bait sight. Behind him he could see over 400 yards across the vast logging roads.
A few hours went by, and I heard a rifle shot, then another. I was wondering who shot, but it's hard to tell in such a vast environment. I thought at one time something crept up behind me, but I could not turn and see due to the camo webbing that was rigged to break my outline. I climbed down and walked to the top of the ridge where I waited for the guide to pick me up. Rod told me Bruce got off two shots at a big bruin. He said that Bruce took a 200-yard shot after spotting the bruin sneaking across a logging road while he was blowing the "female in heat call." He didn't have much time to take the shot, but of course my friend, Bruce Soiett, the Marine, executed a good shot; well, Bruce thought he got off a good shot.
Rod said we'd head back and look for blood. We couldn't find blood, but could see where the bruin wheeled around after Bruce shot. Many of the guides were skeptical as to whether Bruce could make such a shot. But Bruce and I were both sure that the first shot was good. Rod said we should head back to camp and come back at first light. It was too dangerous to look for a wounded bear after dark. Rod also said this would be the longest shot in the camp's history. When we got back to the camp, everyone was ribbing Bruce, telling him, "You're either in the house of shame or the house of fame." Bruce told them he was sure he'd hit that bear good, and that we would find him at daybreak.
First thing at daybreak, we headed out to the shot zone. Three guides, plus our master guide came to resume the search. We tried to find bullet strikes on the logging roads but came up with nothing, so the guides headed into the bush where it was last seen. Rod found blood within 20 minutes. He confirmed that the bear was shot good, but could be alive. At this point, we all had our guns at hand, ready. Bruce and I both had 454 Casull revolvers. The search began on the blood trail. We found a downed tree with blood on the whole length of it, thick and heavy. We all new it was close. Then we found a place where it'd laid down, and a big pool of very fresh blood.
Finally, I heard Bruce shout, "I found him, under this pine. It looks like he took a nap." So we all gathered around this enormous beast and admired his greatness. I was so happy for Bruce. Rod got a good strong limb to carry the bruin. It took all five of us to cart him out. He was very heavy. I remember asking Bruce if he had his tag the morning of the search. He laughed and stated that would be a good idea and made sure that he did.
When we got back to camp with that big bruin, all the comments about whether he could make the shot stopped. Many of the Seals were very impressed with Bruce's long shot. I'm glad it all worked out for Bruce.
I had two more days of hunting. I even went to another sight; no bears. I spotted a good bear after dark. It was only a few yards away, stood up and looked at me, then ran like no tomorrow. I walked down a logging road to meet up with master guide, Rod. He was sad that I didn't get a shot or even see a bear during shooting time. I can't say he didn't try to get me on a bear. Rods bear kill was around 90 percent. That is very good. I was just in the right place at the wrong time. I told Rod everything was fine; of course it was not Rod's fault. I was just glad Bruce got a nice bruin. I guess this is why I called this story "Passion for the Hunt." Sometimes you can enjoy the success of others, as well as your own.
There was nothing like seeing the gleam in Bruce's eyes after we found his bruin. One thing I can say, it is not the moment of aiming and squeezing the trigger, but the perception and planning to get there; that is what makes a great hunt. This is something I have learned over the years, enjoy the great outdoors, and cherish your times with family and friends. Those times and moments will be ever lasting in our minds and hearts forever. Good, safe, ethical hunting to all.
Rick Mouleart
Manchester, New Hampshire
