The Lucky One

[kidso]

The Lucky One

 

Sunday afternoon found me driving up the black ribbon of Highway 87 en route to unit 3C to try my luck again at calling in an Arizona spring archery bear. I headed out at the conclusion of my church meetings and wasnt really planning hunting on the Sabbath, but just wanted to set up my camp and get oriented in the field with my new Google Earth maps. I had been dreaming incessantly of that beautiful blonde bear that crossed my path two weeks earlier, and I believed I had identified the canyon system that it was utilizing for food, water, and shelter.

 

I finished setting up my camp, which was nothing more than an oversized cot with a six-inch sleeping pad on top of it and determined that I had just enough time to check the five surrounding water holes that I had mapped out for bear sign before sunset. I raced off down the gravel track road and excitedly pulled up to the first water hole and found absolutely nothing; it was as dry as a sailors sea biscuit! With increasing apprehension, I continued to find empty tanks void of any moisture at locations two and three as well. I was beginning to fear that all my planning was for naught, as the daytime temperatures had been so warm, it would certainly warrant daily drinking sessions for bears, and I wasnt finding any available water! Fortunately, the last two tanks were half-full, but neither had any bear tracks imprinted in their surrounding perimeters. Part of me was prepared to leave and find a new area to hunt in the morning, but the other part told me to stay the course and stick to my plan.

 

I tossed and turned through the night. Not because I was cold, nor because I was dreaming of Blondie, but simply because I had not slept outside of my Jeep while hunting in over two years and I feared for my personal safety. Thus, I kept fingering the trigger guard on my Glock 23c that was quietly sleeping on my chest beneath our blanket. Finally, 4:00 am appeared on my watch and I instantly became the proverbial early bird that wanted to catch the worm --or in my case, the bear. Camp was torn down and packed away in five minutes flat. I changed all my clothes, doused myself with scent killer, grabbed a chicken burrito and a G2 Gatorade out of the ice chest for breakfast, and was off to calling site number one.

 

I squealed away on my predator call like a small mammal being ripped apart without mercy. Excitement gathered in the air as two crows flew in and added their own enthusiasm to my pathetic symphony. The pity party was in full swing when I heard a branch break on the long wooded slope beneath me. My eyes excitedly scanned the woods before me and spotted something brown moving through the trees. An elk. False alarm. Keep calling. Forty minutes later found me hiking across the finger ridge I was on to call into the canyon on its opposite side. It too, provided no relief for my wrinkled and worn bear tag that was wasting away in my pocket like an unused and long forgotten coupon.

 

I returned to my Jeep and drove up another half-mile on the two track road and hiked out onto another finger ridge that ascended into the canyon system that I intended to focus all my calling efforts on for the next three days. I went over its steep 50 degree slope and settled into some oaks to prepare for stand number three. As I pulled down my face mask, I heard a faint noise from across the canyon about three hundred yards away. It sounded like breaking branches. My adrenaline sky rocketed as I once again scanned the area before me to only once again identify the brown bodies of multiple elk moving and grazing before me in a vegetative re-growth area that had been ravaged by an infamous wildfire years ago.

 

However, something didnt seem right. I keep hearing breaking branches that were not in synch with the elks hooves as they slowly milled around. In fact, I was beginning to believe that a bear was somewhere in the thickets across from me. Well, there was only one way to test that theory, and it was hanging around my neck on an old lanyard. I slipped the end of my open reed called between my lips and let out a quick chorus of soft, high pitched squeals. The light green foliage of the thorny locust and oak saplings began to sway to and fro as a yellowish body began maneuvering its way down the steep slope directly across the canyon from me. BEAR!!! What an image! Soft yellow moving through a sea of green, gently descending as though it were gliding down the hillside like an elusive apparition. It took roughly three minutes for the bear to disappear from my sight near the bottom of the canyon, so I figured I had about three minutes left before shooting time. I quickly knocked an arrow and continued to call incessantly with soft high pitched squeals and whimpers.

 

Just then, I spotted Mellow Yellow about 20 yards beneath me and approaching fast. I attached my mechanical release to the D-loop on my bow string and drew back to my anchor point. I continued to blow on my call while clutching it in place with my teeth. WHACK!!! What the heck was that! There was my arrow sticking out of a fallen log five yards in front of me! I had NOT even pressed the release! Mellow Yellow stuck its head up to investigate the noise and I quickly, but smoothly knocked another arrow as my dream was now a mere ten yards from me! I drew back with nothing between us except the leaves and twigs of a small oak sapling, which I figured would be no match for an arrow sent at this distance through my powerful bow and PRESSED my release. How wrong I was! My arrow was shockingly deflected into No Mans Land. My beautiful rug dropped down into what I believed was exit mode, so I rapidly nocked a third arrow, and was shocked as it continued to approach me instead of fleeing. At the five-yard mark, it rose up and I delivered an arrow into its chest, which sent it thundering down the steep incline it had just negotiated.

 

My heart was thundering in my own chest like a herd of stampeding buffalo as I stood up to witness the flight path of my bear. I quickly lost sight of the yellow treasure and heard the last commotion of breaking branches near the bottom of the canyon. I waited a few more minutes, but nothing revealed itself visually or audibly, so I quietly climbed out of the canyon to wait two hours and to call for help. Eager help showed up an hour-and-a-half after impact in the form of the young man who previously accompanied me in May when I called in my anomaly and one of his friends.

I hoisted my old-school external frame backpack --an artifact from my boy scouting days-- onto my hips, grabbed my bow, and we descended into the canyon following a nice blood trail. Not surprisingly, the wonderful blood sign all but vanished near the bottom of canyon, and a lump of doubt began growing in my throat. About an hour later, a whistle broke the silence, followed by that lovely phrase, "Ive got blood." This blood, however, was found 50 yards up from the bottom of the canyon on the far side of the canyon from whence the bear initially approached. So do wounded bears ascend steep hillsides? Yes, if they choose to do so, and this one certainly did. We circled the area for another 30-40 minutes and found no other indication of the bears movement, other than it was heading up hill.

 

We soon ran out of ideas and were thinking of pulling out to find someone with a hound who would be willing to bring it out on a leash to help us locate the wounded or dead bear. You cannot run hounds during the spring archery bear season, but a Game and Fish employee previously told me that a leashed hound could be used to help retrieve wounded or downed game. That knowledge was my ace-in-the-hole and I was getting ready to pull out that card.

 

However, I told my buddy to let me try one more idea before we pulled out and called it quits. I have previously, on multiple occasions, called in bears that exited using nearly the exact route they traveled in on after making me out to be a threat to them while calling. So I pointed out the thicket of locust and oak saplings that were at least another 100 yards above us and 100 yards to the side of us and explained that I wanted to navigate through the middle of it just in case the bear returned to the spot from which it had been called. The thorny locusts tore into my arms and hands as I tried to find a way through its tangle. A long 30-foot fallen pine trunk provided an easier pathway towards the center of the thicket. I hopped on the trunk, which was about three to four feet above the ground and carefully proceeded forward, still using my arms to part the locust branches that continued to plague me.

 

All of a sudden I heard a low growl a few yards in front of me followed by a commotion in the brush.

 

"The bear is right in front of me! I can hear it moving!" I yelled.

 

"Be careful!" was the response I heard shouted back in my direction.

 

I leaped off the log into the Arizona jungle and dropped my backpack to the ground. I noticed a large wet spot of dirt where the bear had bedded down and lost a lot of blood, and I heard it leaving as branches began snapping and breaking away from me. I knocked an arrow and started bolting through the brush. A voice yelled for me to hurry and head south as the bear was in the open. I broke into a clearing and spotted yellow movement about 80 yards away from me on the ridgetop (which was also on a 60 degree incline from my position). I had maybe two seconds to make that shot, but was not comfortable with the distance nor the angle. I passed it up and the bear crested the ridge and vanished from my sight.

 

"Run, run as fast as you can to the top of the ridge! Hurry, do it now!"

 

Apparently, my help could see something from their vantage point that I could not. That was one tough two-minute run to crest that ridge. The top could not have arrived any sooner! When I reached the crest I heard something bolting though the brush on my right and I began to run that direction hoping for another chance at redemption. They screamed at me to turn around and head towards them. I guess I must have jumped a deer or something else and was following the wrong quarry, for they emphatically repeated their directive to run towards their voices. I turned around and bolted their direction and spotted Yellow Mellow coming through the trees. I pulled back my bowstring and the bear trotted another 20-30 feet and stopped and looked over its shoulder. I put my 40 yard pin on its chest, but the bear must have been 50 yards away, because my arrow hit the ground 10 yards short and whistled along the ground at warp speed zinging past the bear and startling it so significantly that it turned and leaped onto a nearby pine tree and scampered up its trunk. I could not believe it! I had treed the bear! What incredible luck!

 

I raced over to the tree and my faithful help arrived beneath its branches without a second to spare. We gave some quick celebratory remarks and I drew back my bow and the arrow straight away exploded into the sky. They told me to calm down and not to rush my shot. I replied that I had NOT even pressed my release; that the arrow just took off on its own. I took a mental note to replace my mechanical release before the upcoming archery elk season, as I simply cant have arrows being prematurely flung by a faulty release.

 

The bear was on the ground shortly thereafter, but unfortunately my help had to leave the field and return to work. Thanks so much to Blake and Spencer for their service and time spent in the field. Packing out the bear is another story. Needless to say, it would have been much more difficult had I not ran into Brent and Wendy with a Polaris Ranger who made that phase of hunt so much easier. Who would have known that they knew how to skin and process wild game and were not afraid about getting bloody? Man, do I love bear hunting and all the great people and awesome memories that come with it!

[2 Full Curls]

Holy Smokes what an awesome story!! Congrats on beautiful colored bear.

[olmos1010]

Very nice, huge congrats.

[Big Browns]

You da man!

[Big Browns]

You deserve it Keith! You have put a lot of work into getting this Bear. I wish I was as motivated and persistent as you are. You are the master Bear hunter.

 

Adam

[cramerhunts]

Congratulations! One heck of an adventure for sure. Awesome to meet and have some nice people to help out as well.

[My Rights As An American]

Excellent story, congratulations on a beautiful trophy!!! Hard work pays off!!!

[Elkaddict]

What a story! Had my heart pumping! Congrats!

[jim]

That story should be in a magazine someplace well written. What a adventure. Awesome Bear.

[bowhunter81]

Redemption congrats

[lcyardball]

Great story Keith, thanks for sharing.

[ready2hunt]

Kidso for prez! great job!!

[Big Browns]

Kidso for prez! great job!!

 

He couldn't be any worse!

[bonecollector]

That story should be in a magazine someplace well written. What a adventure. Awesome Bear.

+1 You have incredible writing skills. I enjoyed every bit of your story. Congrats on tagging Mellow Yellow!!!

[tjhunt2]

Congratulations Keith on another bear. You certainly are the most determined archery bear hunter I know. You deserve this one for all the hard work you put in to hunting these. Your story is worth sending to a magazine. What's so funny is you were so afraid to sleep outside under the stars but no fear when it came time to rush in that thicket to chase out a wounded bear. There's no doubt you are a little crazy when it comes to these bears but that's what I like about you. Whether your stories were successful or not have always been exciting and I'm so happy this one turned out so successful for you. Good job!!!!!!!

 

TJ