I have had more memorable hunts than I can bring to mind which happens when one becomes part of those "golden years". I will limit myself to 3.
The first was one of my later hunts for Michigan Black Bear about 30 years ago. The late September morning was very crisp and cold when we struggled into what seemed like a dozen layer of clothes which seemed wise as we were up near the northern tip of the NLP. We laid out our plans for a morning's hunt over a quickly grabbed breakfast of pancakes with all the fixins' next to a fire meant to warm us for the hunt. The hunt would be with hounds and we gave them more attention than we did ourselves. At 3:30 am that was easier to do than to look at ourselves.
By 4:15 or 4:30 I was placed and standing on a trail between two very large and wet swamps. It was a very clear star filled morning and we shook with anticipation, cold, or perhaps more honestly a little downright fear for what size creature might come out of that swamp when we had no place to go. As light began to show the horn blew loud that it was time to lock and load, ready to fire, weapons verticle (rifles that day, mine a 30 oh 6 as they were called back then) We waited until we were fully frozen in place and then the sounds of the hounds baying signaled that a track had been found, more of a miracle they seemed to be coming in our direction. I began to shake, warming me up more than a little with the thought that I might be facing a bear at feet or yds. Soon the sound of a large piece of machinery breaking its way through brush had us all at attention. This critter would be no small drink of water. The unthinkable happened as a huge black menace emerged onto the trail. My crosshairs swung with the bear as it stepped down from the trail and in my scope I was horrified to see an automobile with a ranting woman and a car full of kids bouncing right into my field of view. I had a debate in my now steaming brain, should I take the bear or not. My rifle was loaded with what was called silvertips in those days, a solid lead projectile surrounded by silver so that we could defend ourselves with a skull shot if we were unfortunate enough to get in that position. Back to my dilemma, between seeing a large tree and some stone as a backdrop and this woman of questionable brain power with her arm and part of her torso out of the window waving at the bear, I had to make a decision quicker than the flash of one of the falling stars I saw earlier. The bear turned slightly to see what the commotion was, most likely thinking that the crazed woman might make a nice little early morning snack, or thinking no she must be sick and bad meat because noone could do that and be in their right mind. Well, he made a very loud grunt and headed for the land of the rising sun which was of course the large swamp to the east and Lake Huron. I was on target with the bear which was only 25-30 yds distant but I could not bring myself to finish the pull of the trigger. A ricochet even after passing through the bear and the children might pay for the lunacy of the driver. (This was not a trail that went anywhere but deeper into the swamps.) My blood pressure was now past the level of the boiling point of water. This female critter ever more to my astonishment jumped out of her car with hounds coming ready to push anything up a tree that was in their way. She proceeded to tell me that I was illegally hunting because it was state land on one side of the trail and national forest land on the other. Her self-proclaimed authority was plainly laid out as she described herself as the local leader of a chapter of the largest antihunting group in the nation. My thoughts at that point are not for public consumption. I then asked her if those qualifications included the great ability to read. She became irate, little did she know what I was becoming. I pointed to signs on each side of the road and she looked and said well that is inmaterial and had no bearing. They had a great deal of bearing for me as they said "Public Hunting Lands". I then gave her what little of mind was still processing calm thought. I said lady (a great assumption on my part) if anyone is commiting a criminal act here it is you. There are more children in the car than the law allows, their safety and welfare has been endangered, and you are interfereing with a lawful hunt. I more than suggested that she back her car down the trail in the direction she had so intrusively arrived from and never come back. She huffed that there was nothing that I could do about her very legal imposition. At that piece of wind, I lifted my radio (not my rifle) and called for the head guide to call for assistance from the dnr. Also at the same moment a fellow hunter down the trail about 100-200 yds turned and began walking quickly in our direction. She exclaimed, "What is that?" This bull of the woods as they were called then, realized what had happened, and came like a locomotive. Now this fella lived backed in these swamps and seemed to be more bear than human (also bragged about not coming out of the woods even to take a bath); I never disagreed on any point with him. As he neared, I said ma'am may I introduce you to Paul (his real name); he carried his rifle like a toothpick and his knife, which looked minute on him, was a very large bowie which had the appearance of a sword to me. The protector of all things animal and wild moved in a manner that I thought was impossible for a human and her car backed up north over every obstacle in the trail with the dispatch of a spaceship on a mission. She was never seen or heard from again by our group and unfortunately neither was that remarkable bear.
Well I guess, I better save the story of the most unforgettable whitetail hunts I can remember for another time. Patience is a virtue and I would not want to leave you without any.
Edited by ridgehunter, 06 March 2009 - 11:36 AM.
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