The Bear Factory: Revisited

Text & Photos By M.R. James, Founder/Editor Emeritus

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 "on  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  the 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 a  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!  Disgusted 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, 326 Diamond Basin Road, Dept. BH, Cody, WY 82414; (307) 527-6130; bliss@wave.park.wy.us. 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).