The cabin was quite dark and quiet so I slept really well. After waking up and putzing around for a bit, everyone met for breakfast followed by a morning of fishing. I went out in Derrick's boat with Justin. It was a beautiful steely grey morning. Fishing started out slow, but there was enough action to keep things interesting. All the pike we caught were small, but it was still great to be catching fish. I did catch one smally in addition to the pike. Justin spent quite a bit of time using a flyrod, which would have been neat to see, but he wasn't able to connect with it.
On the way back in camp we stopped for a few casts in Petrushney (and I am just about sure that isn't spelled right) Bay. It has been a very dry summer in Manitoba, but recent rains had started the water running again at the small waterfall at the mouth of the bay.
After soup and sandwich for lunch, we all headed out to go after bears. I was headed back to Moose Creek, the same stand I had been on the previous night. Matt was also on the same stand he sat on previously. Mike was dropped off first at the other downriver stand that hadn't been sat on yet.
When Max and I walked into the stand there was a bear on the bait with his head stuck in the barrel. The activity on this stand is incredible. At least the bear ran off this time - likely because nothing was left in the barrel.
I got up into the treestand and got settled. Max gave me the thumbs up before heading back to the boat. Just as he got out of sight, the whole stand shifted in a jolting manner. My rifle slid, banged on the footrest of the ladder stand. I reached to grab it, straining my arm only to watch the gun tumble to the ground. I stared in horror as my Ruger was sitting, barrel nearly straight down several inches in the dirt, like a planted tree. OH SHIT! I made sure everything else was secure and climbed out of the treestand. The barrel was plugged with dirt. I ran back to the boat. In hindsight, I'm not sure what I was going to do at the boat that I couldn't do there, but two brains are better than one. Max and I made an impromptu gun cleaning kit out of some saplings and some leaves. We got the barrel at least mostly clean.
I nervously went back to the stand - since there had been a bear on it before, I wasn't sure it wouldn't have come back to the filled bait barrel. Back in the treestand I get settled again - this time being overly cautious. My mind pondered my rifle. I would have been more nervous had the scope been hit or if it had been wacked in the action. While dirt in a barrel is bad, ranges in bear hunting are close enough that impact would be unlikely to be shifted enough to give a bad hit. Right???
The first bear came in at an early 3:30, surprising with all the gun falling and in/out of the stand. It spent time getting the logs out of the barrel, but ended up pulling one from the top end of the barrel through the side hole - getting it very stuck in the process. The bear was not happy and spent quite some time shredding the log with its teeth and claws to get at the food inside. Note to self: Do not get in a fight with a bear.
A second bear came in a short time later. As with the previous night, both bears barely tolerated each other at the bait ... barely (or would that be bearly?).
The second bear only stuck around a short time, with the first bear staying for over an hour. Then I had a long uncomfortable stretch where nothing was happening. It was still a very nice evening. Temperatures were perfect with some sun, but in the deep, thick woods it wasn't hot. There were a few mosquitoes, but not too bad. There was absolutely no wind which was both good and bad: good since it made the evening serene, bad since every movement felt like I was banging a gong advertising my presence for miles around.
The somewhat uncomfortable stand also made the long stretch more difficult. I spent too much time pondering the impact of the fall on my rifle, whether I should switch to my back-up TC shotgun. I wondered why I wasn't seeing all the bears from the previous evening. Time passed slowly. I had to remind myself how incredible it is that I get to do these things. I recently saw an article discussing Type 1 Fun (fun in the moment) versus Type 2 Fun (not fun in the moment, but fun - usually really fun - in retrospect). Hunting can sometimes be both Type 1 and Type 2 at the same time.
As the evening started to approach some longer shadows, another bear came in. My heart raced since I was hoping that the less amount of bears compared to the previous evening might mean something big was nearby. But it was a small bear. I watched it for a while before it left.
I had another bear circling me a short time later. I caught only a few glimpses of it behind me. I was not sure how big it was, but it was obviously very wary.
As the darkness grew bigger, another bear came from the opposite side of the barrel. I was sure this was going to be a big bear. I had already brought my gun up on my Bog Pod with the previous bear. In the dimming light, I saw the bear turn broadside, brought my gun up and shot. The bear hunched and took off. I knew it was hit, but I didn't hear it moan. I also didn't hear it crashing away. After waiting not enough time, I climbed out of the stand and nervously approached the barrel. Just beyond the bait was my bear. It wasn't the monster that I thought it was, but it was a beautiful Manitoba black bear.
The situation was much like my 2011 bear hunt - where I assumed I should see a big bear, even if part of my brain knew the bear I was looking at through my scope wasn't huge.
Once back in the stand, I pondered the last decade. If in 2011 I was a bit disappointed with a smaller bear, in 2021 I saw a beautiful animal after two incredible days on the stand - with five days to still spend fishing with great people. Midlife may be painful, but perspective is everything. There are Big Questions nearly every day, but these small, beautiful moments can't be traded for anything. Even if I had visions of huge Canadian bears as I spent 20 hours driving to get here, once the bullet left the barrel, I am happy with the result. Quite frankly, I am the luckiest SOB on earth (with apologies to Sam Malone).
Max had heard me shoot from the boat quite a ways out since it was such a quiet evening. He came in early. When I heard the boat I cautiously walked past the barrel and met him at the shore. "Did you shoot?"
"I did."
"Did you get it, do you know where it is?"
"It is right by the barrel. You can't miss it. I'll got get my stuff from the stand."
"Right on man!"
I got my stuff while Max loaded my bear in the sled. We took a few pictures and got the bear loaded into the boat. Then we headed down to pick up Matt. Like me, he had seen a few bears, but nowhere near as many as the previous day. One bear in the area when Max went in circled the stand - huffing and puffing in a menacing manner. No doubt these bears are aggressive this year, likely due to a mix of not as much food and little hunting pressure for almost two years.
Back at camp a total of four bears were taken (Mike, Justin, Ron and mine). We all ate dinner while the guides started skinning and quartering the bear meat. My shot had been right through the boiler room so the impact of the gun falling was negligible. Only a small amount of one shoulder was bloodshot. It was a late night for me, but even later for the guides as I went to bed once my bear was cleaned.
No comments:
Post a Comment