Canadian Bacon

July/ August 1997 Lone Star Bowhunter Magazine

Hunt was June 1991 although article was not published for several years

                                                            CANADIAN BACON     (Bear Hunting for Bows)

  For many years, I've considered bear hunting without knowing whether it was something

for me or not. A good friend of mine in Austin, Ron Collier, was the most addicted bear

hunter I knew. After a few years of admiring  the bear skin rug on the wall at Archery

Country in Austin and listening to his exciting tales, Ron's enthusiasm began to rub off on

me. When his full body mount showed up, that was it! The hide on this beautiful animal

is so black that it sometimes appears purple. The trophy is truly a sight to behold. I

decided then that I wanted the chance and started planning my first "Bear Hunt."

  Good friend, Steve McCarty, volunteered to go with me and my wife, Mary. She said I

could go if she was included, so the hunting party was formed. Ron put us in touch with

Clifford Hastings, a native Treaty Indian who operated a hunting and fishing camp on

Bessnard Lake in North Central Saskatchewan, Canada. Clifford informed us that the only

openings available were the last week of season, however, the good news was that we

would have the entire place to ourselves. This sounded so good that we booked the hunt

and sent our deposit. After checking plane fares, we decided to take a little extra time and

drive up for the hunt.

  We booked the hunt in February and would not be hunting until late June. Due to

extremely busy schedules the time flew by and before I knew it, the time to leave arrived.

We were all excited about the country we would see on the way up. However, after the

first 24 hours of driving we discovered that early summer scenery in the Midwest is about

as exciting as sitting in the back yard for several days. A person can only take looking at

grasslands for so long and that's about the only thing to see in any direction. Finally we

reached the Canadian border. We were so excited that when the pretty girl working the

border asked what our business was in Canada, Steve replied, "We are going Bear hunting

for bows." The excitement of being in Canada wore off quickly when 8 hours later we

were still looking at grass. We bedded down that night knowing that we would reach our

destination the following day. What we didn't know is "When does it get dark around

here?" We went to bed without seeing the sun go down and it was already high in the sky

when we got up the next morning.

  After driving the rest of the way to Prince Albert that day, trees began showing up again.                                     Our float plane ride to Lake Bessnard was exhilarating!

While Steve had been on a float plane before, it was a first for Mary and I. Adding to the

excitement was the stormy weather that ensued all around us. In between down-pours,

we got our gear, loaded and took off. The flight in gave us an opportunity to look over

the forested area that was to be our hunting grounds. Lakes were in every direction as

well as forest fires initiated by lightning. There was little doubt at that moment as to the

extraordinary experience to come. We arrived in camp late Saturday afternoon and it still

felt like we had a full day to unpack and do some fishing. By 11 :00 p.rn. the sun finally

went down. Since Sunday is a no hunting day and the days seem a week long we had

plenty of time to prepare for the hunt as well as catch enough fish to last all week.

  Sunday afternoon we finally had a glimpse at our first "bear." Although a bit scary at first,

after he introduced himself our guide, we calmed down a bit. Mary couldn't wait to ask

him questions about the area. The first thing she wanted to know was what was the

scariest thing he'd ever encountered in the wilderness area. Without hesitation, Clifford at

first replied, "My Wife," then he finally admitted to the species of the female Moose

protecting her offspring.

  After unloading our groceries, we began to let the :fish off our stringer. Boxes of steaks,

chicken, pork chops, fresh vegetables and anything else you could imagine, enough to last

a party of three times our size, twice as long as we would be staying. When Clifford saw

our surprised faces, he said we may want a little extra to feed the bears.

  Clifford told us that he would be returning the following afternoon to take us out to

stands. We asked about morning hunts and Clifford said "bear rarely move in the

mornings. "

  That gave us another full day for "catch and release" fishing since we were already well

prepared for the hunt and had more :fish than we knew what to do with.

  McCarty and I made a pact that since we had never hunted bear before, we would not

shoot the first bear we saw. This was because another respected friend of mine in Austin,

Johnnie Walters, told me that he had never known off a first time bear hunter who didn't

shoot the first bear he/she saw. We were not going to let that happen to us because we

were hunting a one bear area and wanted to be sure that we brought back trophies.

  As it turned out, Mary and I hadn't been in the tree blind 20 minutes when a huge black

boar bear came cruising by. .It didn't take an experienced bear hunter to tell us that this

old boar was looking for love, not food. He presented excellent shot opportunities but I

was true to my word and didn't shoot. After all, we were only 20 minutes into a six day

hunt...

 That same evening we picked up a disappointed Steve for he hadn't seen anything and

although we were encouraged about our first evening's hunt.

The roles were reversed on Tuesday's hunt when Steve had his opportunity at a grizzled

old brown boar roaming through. He too, true to his word, held off . It was Mary's and

my turn to be skunked.  

  Wednesday night Mary and I saw three juvenile bears seeming to be terrified to come to

the bait and Steve saw one small bear in his stand.

  After both of us being skunked Thursday evening we began to get mighty concerned that

our little pact was going to backfire on us. After the long drive and the months of

planning it was going to be a really long drive home if we were empty handed after having

both been presented with, what we were realizing now, were opportunities at 19" plus

bears.

  Friday morning when Clifford showed up to take us to one of his special fishing spots, I

had, by this time, transformed into the resident bear. We had seen a blonde sow on the

porch going through our trash two mornings in a row and by now I was convinced it was

not the bears, but bear guides that didn't move in the mornings. I growled a few kind

words about fish and fishermen and insisted on being taken to a blind and left for the

remainder of the day. Clifford hesitatingly obliged, knowing I was in for a mighty long

day but I would have it no other way. After some consideration, Steve decided to do the

same and Mary decided to hold down the fort.

  Indeed it was a long day especially since I didn't see a single bear the whole time. Steve

was more fortunate and shot a beautiful cinnamon phase boar late that evening and was

even able to video the shot. While it wasn't even close to being as large as the Bruin he'd

passed earlier in the week it was still quite a trophy and would make Pope & Young. Add

to that, it was the next to last day, and Steve was quite happy. We waited until Saturday

morning to retrieve his prize and took lots of pictures before beginning with the chores.

After two evenings in a row of being skunked, I was resolved to the fact that I would

probably be going home empty handed but at least we would have one trophy. After

loading Steve's bear into the boat, we headed back to camp.

  On the way, Clifford wanted to pick up a blind at a bait sight that hadn't been fed or

hunted in a couple of weeks. We had become quite accustomed to this as it was the last

week of bear season and by now I had the routine down. When he pulled to shore, I tied

off the boat and headed down the trail knowing that at the end of the trail there would be

a bait barrel and stand. It was 11 :45 a.m. and you can imagine my surprise when I

rounded the bend in the trail and found myself standing 20 yards away from a huge boar. I

came to an abrupt halt and was almost run over by Clifford who was right on my tail.

Unfortunately not only did I not have a bow, the wind was blowing almost directly

towards the bear. I turned and whispered to Steve and Mary who were just arriving to

rush to the boat for my bow, but a slight wind shift, a loud woof, and the bear

disappeared.

  I couldn't believe my bad luck but was determined to try to turn things around. I quickly

got everyone out of the area in hopes that the bear would return. Mary said she would fix

me something to eat and return in a couple of hours and sit the evening with me. Back at

the boat the first realization was that I didn't have a bow! It was the last day of bear

season and the only bow in the boat was Steve's. The only reason we had his was for the

photo session. Lucky for me Steve had modeled his setup after mine. I picked out a lily

pad about 20 yards away and with a boatload of audience fired a test shot. Bingo! Not

fifteen minutes later, I slipped around the same bend and to my amazement, I could see the

boars nose up sniffing the area for the source of whatever had spooked him earlier.  I

immediately hit the dirt and scooted off to the side so that the wind could not once again

betray my presence and started searching for an opening through the undergrowth for a

shot. By the time I spotted a hole to shoot through, the boar came back in, circled the bait

and was facing away at 20 yards. I stood, took two steps forward and came to full draw

waiting for an opportunity. He finally turned enough to give me a shot and I released.

When the arrow zipped through, he let out a growl that made the hair on the back of my

neck stand and my knees weakened to the point that I almost fell. I laid down Steve's

bow like the sacrificial lamb and prepared for a hasty retreat. Fortunately he took off in

the opposite direction and I sat down to try to calm my nerves. I was shaking so badly

that my legs would barely hold me. Once I regained a limited amount of composure, I

walked back to the lakes edge and slipped into the water to cool off. My surprises for the

day were not over for as I lay in the water thinking that I was the only human for miles,

voices sparked my interest. Peering over the rocks into the next cove, to my complete

bewilderment, there were two men fishing. After watching them for a couple of minutes,

knowing that they, like myself, thought they were all alone, I hollered "How's the fishing?"

I got a real kick out of their response when they tried to locate me. They just couldn't

believe that here in the middle of nowhere, was another human without the presence of a

boat. Once they got over the initial shock they eased over to hear my tale and offer me a

cold drink. I visited with them for about an hour and then told them that I had to go

blood trail my bear. They had gotten directions to our cabin and promised to come over

and celebrate with us that night.

  After the most exciting trailing job I'd ever been on (knowing that the animal you're

trailing could easily kill you, adds a bit of excitement) which ended in a dense bog where I

felt it might be wise to wait on some company before pursuing any further, I pushed an

arrow in the ground to mark the last of my blood trail and went back to the lakes edge to

wait for the band to return. Imagine the look on everyone's faces when they eased into

the cove and saw me sitting on the bank with a Pilsner can in my hand. It didn't take long

to finish the trailing job as the huge boar lay less than 10 yards from the arrow I left in the

ground. I couldn't believe how immense and beautiful the grizzled old boar was. He had

bite marks all over his body from fighting with other boars and one of his canine teeth had

broken off. The bear was so large that I knew at that moment he would have to be

preserved as a full body mount.

  We now had plenty of reason to celebrate as the preliminary measurements revealed

Steve's bear would make Pope & Young and mine would make Pope and Young as well

as the Boone and Crockett awards. And celebrate we did. Our new found Canadian

friends did indeed show up and for the first time, we saw the sunrise.

  During the nights celebration, I had decided that I wanted to have the bear mounted with a

Northern Pike in it's mouth and as if to prove my luck had changed I caught a perfect size

Pike right off the bat.

  The return trip was beautiful, grass and all, and other than accidentally leaving Steve

McCarty at a convenience store somewhere in Kansas, it was a pleasurable trip full of

anticipation of the next opportunity we would have to return.

It was a wonderful trip and I would highly recommend bear hunting to anyone who hasn't

given it a try. For the most part, it is a laid back, no stress hunt which for me was a

pleasant change from the efforts and diligence that I am accustomed to with my whitetail

pursuits. My wife accompanied me and caught more fish than she had ever caught in her

life and we both can't wait to try it again someday.

  If you don't know if Bear Hunting would be for you, give it a try. I for one dream of the

day that I can return for another adventurous experience.