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The rain continued all night but was only drizzling when we got up. We ran
out to check the crab pots and while messing around on the canal, ran into a
fisherman and his deckhand.
We motored up to the fishing vessel and out came this old salt in a red plaid
shirt and suspenders. His name was Johnny K. and without doubt, he was the old
man of the canal. On board was a woman named Lori. I thought she looked like
a man but Johnnie called her a she, plus the feminine name was a dead giveaway.
They told us where a brown bear was hanging out. A few clicks up the river at
a place called "Tombstone." This was a good tip. The weather was too
dangerous to risk it so we stored it for another day.
The tides allowed Johnnie and I to head to the hole for the afternoon hunt.
It took us an hour before we spotted our first black bear. It was a small one,
on the far bank. A short time later the same cinnamon bear (we had spotted a
couple days ago) busted out of the jungle, turned, and ran back into the brush.
Our wind was good so we figured another bear, possibly a brown bear, pushed
it out. The afternoon wore on until a bear appeared next to Johnnie - fifty
yards away. We discussed the bear and Johnnie said "He's a good one."
The stalk was on.
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The big black bear knew I was approaching. He would
tolerate it for only so long. |
The approach was tough - I had to creep up on him in the open. My Odds of pulling
this off? "Zero" - I thought, but figured I'd give it a shot anyway.
But as I closed the distance to 50 yards my attitude started to change. I slowly,
and carefully knelt down and nocked an arrow.
The bear kept feeding as I moved ahead, now forty five yards. He caught my
movement. I froze. He looked at me for a few seconds then went back to feeding.
As his head went down, I moved again. At 35 yards the bear was on to me. He
began acting aggressive. He turned his head and watched me through the corner
of his eye. I moved to within 25 yards. The bear was becoming stressed. So
was I. He snapped his toward me when I was twenty yards away. His hackles
came up.
I wondered one thing - "was Johnnie holding my video camera or his 45-70?"
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I stalked as close as I could. The bear was agitated
at my intrusion into his tide flat. |
This was no longer a stalk. The bear was getting upset at my intrusion into
his meadow. His head went down one more time and I took three steps closer,
now 17 yards. His head was down feeding but he was looking right at me. I began
my draw. I held at anchor for a second or two, then released. The arrow flew
perfectly, hitting the bear just where I was looking. He reeled around, looked
at me, then ran off through the meadow. He never made it to the trees. The arrow
had double lunged him.
Untitled Document
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A Wensel Woodsman broadhead shot out of a Morrison Longbow did the trick, my black bear hunt was over. The bear would go nearly
seven feet. |
Both of us were on an adrenaline high! Johnnie and I figured the boar would
go 400 pounds with a 19 inch skull. After the congratulations, Johnnie's comments
to me were loud and clear - "don't try and pull that on a brown bear!"
While I agreed, and certainly don't recommend stalking an agitated black bear
to within 17 yards, it was one hell of an exciting stalk.
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Johnnie's Zodiac, along with a rising tide made moving
the big bear an easier task.
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We worked over the bear and headed back home. With nine days left I am now
entirely focused on brown bears.
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