I couldn't stop worrying. Springtime bear hunting in the high Rockies
is never a sure thing, even in the best of places. There's always the
fickle spring weather to fret about, not to mention the fact that many
reclusive backcountry bears are original woodland will-o-the-wisps.
That big ol' bruin you see from today's evening stand could be leaving
his tracks somewhere on the far side of the mountain by daybreak tomorrow.
There are absolutely no guarantees when you're hunting high-country
bears.
To compound
my concerns, this 2001 bowhunt wasn't simply two buddies teaming up
to enjoy a low-key, laid-back huntin' camp rendezvous. My longtime friend
Tom Nelson - accompanied by a staff cameraman - had traveled from Michigan
in late May to join me in Wyoming's Big Horn Mountains "onÊ business".
Tom's assignment: capture "a different kind of bear hunt"
on videotape for Bowhunter Magazine's The American Archer television
show, which Tom capably hosts. That management mandate from Wolf Creek
Productions meant Tom's every move - and some of mine, too - would be
followed by the unblinking eye of a television camera manned by pro
videographer Gabe Van Wormer. Tom and I both know from experience that
bowhunting is tough enough; add a camera to the mix and it gets doubly
tough, doubly fast. It's a well known truth that the critters featured
in our bowhunting shows and videos have never read the script - and
most have no interest whatsoever in becoming television or video stars.
A veteran
bowbender I've known for over 25 years, Tom understands the vagaries
of spring bear hunting. So my partner wasn't my worry. What gnawed at
me was the awareness that considerable time and company money had been
plunked down solely on my say-so. I'd been quick to arrange a pack-in
hunt with veteran outfitter Tim Doud at a personal favorite high-country
hotspot dubbed "The Bear Factory". What better "different
kind of bear hunt" than a pack-in horseback bowhunt for bruins
amid some of Wyoming's most spectacular mountain scenery? But would
the bears cooperate? That was the unanswered question.
I'd
first come across this particular chunk of remote National Forest
real estate just over a decade ago, and more than once I've written
on my "Bear Factory" adventures exclusively for Bowhunter
readers. This special high-country camp is located several steep upslope
miles from Êthe trailhead. Best reached by surefooted horses or mules,
it is conveniently situated near a cold clearwater spring. Hunts take
place at carefully placed bait sites on public lands within a vast roadless
tract of thick timber and deep canyons. Local hunters rarely venture
there. Consequently, most of the area's big bruins grow to maturity
and die of old age, virtually unhunted except by a handful of Tim's
bowhunting clients.
The owner
of Bliss Creek Outfitters, Tim is the consummate professional guide
and outfitter with first-rate gear, stock, and bowhunting savvy. I've
taken both elk and black bears with him and consider his backcountry
operation one of the best. Regardless, my confident "can't miss"
recommendation to Tom had put my own personal pride and reputation smack
dab on the line. Fortunately, I needn't have worried. Bear production
at the factory was still in full swing.
Tom passed
up pointblank shots at three bears his first two evenings on stand.
Meanwhile, Gabe collected excellent video footage of the bruins moving
through the surrounding timber and standing directly beneath their tree
- as well as fill-in footage of elk and moose browsing in nearby alpine
parks. Finally, with Gabe's tape rolling on the third day, a beautiful
chocolate-colored bear wandered in. Tom promptly zipped an arrow through
its chest at 10 yards, and the bruin collapsed 60 short feet away. Tom
was elated. Although he has collected numerous black bears over the
years - including a couple of red and blondish color-phase bears - this
was Tom's first brown-hued bruin, which only spread icing on his hunter's
cake. All of the pulse-thumping action was perfectly captured on tape,
too. So, with our week-long bowhunt barely half over, a
 |
Perfect Ending I
show off my eleventh-hour black bear, arrowed the final hour of
a week-long bear hunt in the Wyoming high country.
|
quality
television show was already guaranteed. For the first time since the
hunt had started, I breathed a bit easier. Now if only I could fill
my own tag...
My first
stand site, overlooking a yawning wooded canyon, was pocked with the
pad prints of an outsized bear. Unfortunately, this nocturnal bruin
never once showed his face during legal shooting hours, and Tim ultimately
decided a change of mountainside scenery was in order. So, on the fourth
evening I sat over a newly established bait that repeatedly had been
wiped out by hungry bears. I was hopeful the primary bait-raider was
a huge old boar. But with shadows lengthening, a big red-coated sow
and two cute furball cubs suddenly appeared on the brushy hillside above
the bait, chuckling amongst themselves as they walked closer.
Oh,
oh! I thought. Don't let 'em reach the bait under my tree!
Quickly
collecting the Bowhunter video camera and stuffing it into my backpack,
I picked up my bow and slipped the nocked arrow back into its quiver.
And while the mama bruin was still 40 yards away, I grunted loudly.
She stopped in her tracks, woofed, and sent her youngsters scampering
to safety in handy trees. She then proceeded to pace anxiously, woofing
and staring downhill. She bluff-charged once before turning back to
rejoin her cubs. That was my exit cue. Quickly lowering my bow and keeping
a wary eye on the departing sow, I climbed down and set a new Wyoming
record for the 100-yard backwards mountainside walk. When Tim later
suggested I try another location the following day, I didn't argue.
On
aÊ hunch, I elected to make a short morning vigil at a bait across
a canyon just below camp. Several times during the week we'd peered
through a spotting scope at bears feeding on Tim's daily offerings.
One husky, brown-hued bruin had grabbed my attention on a couple of
occasions. Perhaps he'd pay a return visit...
With my
campmates still snuggled in their bedrolls, I slipped away at first
light and was belted into my treestand by 6 a.m. An hour and a half
later I saw two bears - a medium-sized black and larger brown - walking
downhill toward me. The annual spring rut was still a couple of weeks
away, but I figured the duo was a boar and sow. Flipping on the Bowhunter
video camera - mounted on a moveable arm strapped to the pine trunk
beside me - I waited to see what would happen next.
The smaller
bear marched directly to the bait, raked limbs aside, and began to feed.
But the big brown bear simply circled out of range. I taped the action
until both animals finally moved off uphill the way they'd come. I'd
barely settled down when I saw movement on the wooded hillside. A black
shape was padding closer, and for an instant I assumed the two bears
were returning for more grub. Then I realized that this lone bear was
much bigger than the black sow I'd just videotaped. Standing, I zoomed
in on the bear and felt my heartbeat quicken. This was a shooter bruin.
I quickly centered the camera on the bait barrel, hit "Record",
and reached for my bow.
As the
big bear padded out of the treeline and moved into shooting position,
I glanced sideways at the camera's LCD monitor. My heart sank. A "Low
Battery" warning was flashing on the small display screen. Ah,
the joys of videotaping hunts for television! ÊDisgusted with myself,
I switched off the camera and watched the bear gorging himself. After
he finally waddled off, I climbed down and trudged back toward camp.
Maybe I wasn't meant to take a bruin on this hunt. And after a spring
thunderstorm chased Gabe and me back to camp early that same evening,
I figured I'd blown my only good chance.
 |
Happy
Host Tom Nelson, host of Bowhunter Magazine's The American
Archer television show, poses with his Wyoming bear and outfitter
Tim Doud.
|
But
early the next day - the last of our hunt - I was back in my morning
stand, camera positioned, a fully charged battery properly inserted.
The only thing missing was a big bruin. And the woods remained empty
until 10:30 when a gangly, ratty-coated young bear appeared and fed
nervously. I half-heartedly taped the yearling and was glad when he
finally scurried away. A half hour later I sighted a big bruin heading
my way, but this wary bear circled below me, caught my scent, and promptly
vanished. Leaving camera and bow hanging in place, I climbed down and
hiked back to camp for a midday meal.
Between
bites, I filled my campmates in on the morning action - and then almost
choked on my sandwich when the horse wrangler peered through the camp
spotting scope and calmly mentioned there was a bear feeding at the
bait I'd just left. Sure enough, it was the big brown-coated bear we'd
glassed earlier in the week. Talk about feeling foolish. And frustrated!
"Come
on", Tim said, grabbing a bait bucket. "Let's try something."
Hurrying
down slope, we quickly crossed the canyon and moved up to the bait,
making no effort to mask the sounds of our approach. Not surprisingly,
the bear was gone. But as I climbed back into my treestand, Tim rattled
the bait bucket and banged the barrel before giving me the thumbs up
sign and retreating toward camp. Maybe, just maybe, the hungry bear
would wander back to see what new goodies had been added to the food
cache.
Tim's ploy
worked to perfection. Almost. Less than 30 minutes later I saw the bruin
standing in a small clearing to my left. As he eased closer, I carefully
shifted the camera into position and pushed the record button. But the
cautious bear sensed something wasn't quite right. He began angling
up into the woods, moving away from the bait. I desperately searched
for a shooting lane. And when the bear paused within a tiny opening
amid the jumble of branches, I drew, held briefly, and released. Click!
My aluminum arrow clipped an unnoticed limb and buried itself in the
duff beneath his chest. Instantly the bear vanished in a blur of brown
fur.
Muttering
to myself, but giving thanks for a clean miss, I switched off the camera
and plopped down to calm my tingling nerves. Seems I was fated to return
to my Montana home empty handed. But at least Tom had tagged his bear
- and we already had the makings of a great TV show. I'd had my chances
and couldn't complain. Still the afternoon was young. I settled back
to wait. Just in case.
A little
past 6 o'clock the ratty yearling slipped in and hung around for nearly
an hour, feeding occasionally before finally slinking away. Short moments
later I saw a big coal black bear padding noiselessly down the darkening
hillside above the bait. Standing quietly, I switched on the video camera
and lifted my bow from the limb beside me.
As the
bruin waddled closer, I suddenly realized that the final scenes of an
almost too-good-to-be-true television script were playing out before
my eyes. And raising my bow, I for once didn't mind the camera's presence.
Without taped proof, some people might never believe this perfect ending
to our perfect bowhunt high in the Wyoming mountains.
Author's
Notes: Tom Nelson hunted with a 60-pound Ben Pearson 440 compound
and game Tracker Carbon Xpress 200 shafts tipped with deadly Thunderhead
85 broadheads. I toted a 70-pound Mathews Q2-XL bow with a quiver full
of Easton XX78 2315 Super Slam Lites. My aluminum arrows were mounted
with scalpel-sharp Rocky Mountain Titanium 125 hunting heads. For
complete information about arranging your own black bear bowhunting
adventure, contact: Tim Doud, Bliss Creek Outfitters, PO Box 2776, Cody, WY 82414; (307) 527-6103; bliss@wavecom.net.
And don't forget to check out the great hunting action on Bowhunter
Magazine's The American Archer television show, which is broadcast weekly
on the Outdoor Channel (Satellite Service G10/24 or Dish Network Channel
153).
THE BEAR FACTORY: REVISITED
