Day 2

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Day 2

Postby BillytheKid » Mon Oct 07, 2013 8:27 pm

Day 2 of a 5 day bear hunt: I awake 2 hours before sunrise, eat breakfast and gear up. It is legal to take game a half hour before sunrise, but to do so requires you to be in place and deathly quiet for an hour or so before that.



The sound of sticks snapping under several footsteps is a hungry squirrel purposely dropping a pine cone through the branches to loosen the seeds. The hours tick by as morning passes. By the heat of mid day, my prey are presumed to have bedded down and I head back to camp for lunch.



With a fully belly, I nap into mid afternoon and then gear back up. Since last year, I've added new clothing for this trip that's embedded with silver. Yes, the precious metal, silver, spun into some of the threads and reported to be scent killing. I feel Proboscisly Undetectable to any bear. It was on sale.



I "still" hunt the pathway to the "stand", and every time I wonder who got their PhD redefining those words. When you think of stalking through the woods, that's actually "still" hunting. Even though you're stealthily moving and looking around. When you reach your hunting spot and sit, that's a "stand". Go figure.



My hunting seat is on top of a wooded knob of land. The face of the knob is pretty steep, and drops off into the valley below. Nothing will climb that, so I turn my back that way and face uphill.



To the right above me is a seep that animals have dug up a little here and there to create puddles to drink from. The soft, dark earth flows downhill 15 yards to a gully where it dries out. To the left is a dried out wash that shows plenty of wear from previously carrying rainwater away.



I hear loud sounds. Like a mountain lion sharpening it's claws on plywood. Is that a bear, marking his territory by clawing a tree as high as he can reach? My eyes drill through the foliage, and find the source. Another squirrel.



All is quiet for a while, then, footsteps. Regular, rhythmic Footsteps coming straight from behind me. Not deer. It's not the sounds of hooves. They almost sound human. Just who would climb that steep face to the top of the land knob that I sit upon? I slowly turn my head clockwise. Only my head. Very slowly, and spy. A low slung black figure circles from behind me to the left side of the knob.



This is why I came, and I swiftly spin to face it bringing my rifle up. It stops behind a bush 30 feet away, and looks over the top. Awe, how cute. It's a cub no higher than my knee. It's kind of late in the season for such a young one. Oh. Wait. Holy Crap. Where's your mom?!



If I hadn't instinctively heightened my senses, that nearly imperceptible footfall might not have been heard. Heard coming from the right side of the knob. The side I had just turned my back to. I spin counter clockwise. Hi momma. You look pissed.



The cub bolts downhill. Momma's ears twitch. She hears it scrambling, but can't see it and focuses sharply on me. Time slows. Why is it taking all day to shoulder my rifle? Does telepathy work? Don't charge. Don't charge. Don't charge.



No human body builder has ever displayed such musculature, and no woman has ever approached the superb beauty of that glorious, silky, thick, black, shiny hair. Glistening in the sun. Momma bounds, directly away from me, and disappears into the forest. She moved so quickly, my rifle scope has still not reached my line of sight. I was never fast enough to acquire a sight picture.



It is legal to take game a half hour after sunset, but I decide to walk back to camp while I can still see. Predators are called predators because they hunt, and bears do hunt humans. I'll try again tomorrow.
"Now I am Breitbart, and there are millions more of us." - Me
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