And sometimes it doesn't!
I was already awake when my 4:30 alarm went off this morning, eager to hit the trail into a place my family has dubbed, "The Promised Land." It's very remote, and topping out at over 4000 feet, it takes a while to get there. I realized as I was going through my mental checklist (bow, release, binocs, etc) that I had forgotten my trekking poles. So after I had driven as far as I could, I cut a couple straight maple saplings for substitutes and started the climb. After an hour of brisk walking with only one stop for a breather, daylight was beginning to break as I topped out into the first flat ground since I left the truck. I took my now soaked shirt off and replaced it with a dry one, unstrapped my bow, and began to hunt.
There have been times I've been in this hanging valley when every single white oak tree had the bark worn off from bears climbing after acorns. Today was not one of those times. I only saw one small stand of white oaks that had any amount of acorns but there was ample evidence of squirrels cutting red oaks. I slowly made my way through the valley, stopping every few feet to look and listen. I could hear one tree in particular that was dropping acorns and I figured if I didn't find any hot sign, I would check it out later. I made my way up the valley, briefly stopping for a biscuit and an encouraging text message from my buddy @ddd-shooter, then followed a finger ridge all the way to the mountain top where I knew there was a long hardwood flat that I wanted to check out. I didn't see much bear sign, but I flushed 8 grouse out of the flat and the hog sign was so thick and rooting so deep, it was like walking in a freshly tilled garden. I saw a very large boar just as he was cutting across the flat in front of me, but when he got downwind of me, he tore off like a freight train and I could hear him crashing for what seemed like a few hundred yards. I hunted the flat until the wind changed directions and I decided to go back down the mountain to where I heard those acorns falling.
Along the way, I found fairly fresh lapping in the top of a red oak where a bear, sometime in the last week, twisted and broke limbs to get the acorns. I figure bears are forced to climb up to get the only acorns the hogs haven't vacuumed up. As I was making my way down the ridge, I heard the unmistakable crack and peel of a limb being broken and twisted. I knew there was a bear up a tree somewhere a couple hundred hards below me. I checked the wind and very cautiously proceeded to hone in on the sound. While stopped and listening, I saw a treetop shake and I put the binoculars on it just in time to see a hairy black arm reach up and grab a limb and pull it down. I sent a quick text to @ddd-shooter and told him I was starting my stalk. The woods are very dry right now and leaves and twigs are crunchy, so stalking required patience and self control. I tried to listen for him to make noise, then move while he was moving. It took several long minutes of checking wind and waiting for opportunities, but I eventually found myself 19 yards from his tree. It was so thick, I still couldn't see him until I sidestepped a little and then there was his big brown muzzle. I tried to range a yardage and I'm not sure I ranged him or limbs, but I came up with 24 yards. He had just broken a large limb and let it fall to the ground and he began to reposition himself, or maybe he was coming down the tree to feed on the acorns he had just dropped. Either way, I saw a small opening and sent a Grim Reaper his way. I heard the arrow hit and he woofed and came down the tree like a rocket. He stopped briefly about 12 feet off the ground, looked at me, then hit the ground and bolted down the mountain.
The excitement of the stalk and the anticipation of the shot was magnificent. I'm truly blessed to be able to experience times like this. I gave him a few minutes and slipped to the base of the tree. There was immediately a good blood. I had first heard the limb break at 10:50, spotted him at 10:59, and finally made a shot at 11:17.
At the base of the tree
This is what he was after
At 1:40, after over 400 yards of tracking, I called it quits.
He ran straight down the mountain leaving decent blood for about 350 yards. It got sparse at times, but then I would pick it back up. I finally lost blood just above a hog wallow and after circling and backtracking, I decided he had not expired. At this point, I was way down in a hole and still had a long way to come out, so I began the slow steep climb out. I was on the edge of a laurel thicket and came upon a well worn game trail. I decided to follow it and hope it brought me out somewhere near my trail. Imagine my surprise when I looked down on the trail and spotted blood. He had abandoned his downhill flight and taken one of his trails. This further convinced me he was not mortally wounded. The last blood I found, was a place where he stood for some time. OnX says it was 408 yards from the tree I shot him in.
The last blood, 408 yards from the tree
Upon reflection, I believe I hit him lower than I wanted to. Of course, shooting straight up is not a shot I practice very often with a bow. Despite the disappointment of wounding an animal and not finding it, today was a marvelous day in God's great creation. And though my legs and feet feel like I've run a marathon, I'm already looking forward to doing it again.
I was already awake when my 4:30 alarm went off this morning, eager to hit the trail into a place my family has dubbed, "The Promised Land." It's very remote, and topping out at over 4000 feet, it takes a while to get there. I realized as I was going through my mental checklist (bow, release, binocs, etc) that I had forgotten my trekking poles. So after I had driven as far as I could, I cut a couple straight maple saplings for substitutes and started the climb. After an hour of brisk walking with only one stop for a breather, daylight was beginning to break as I topped out into the first flat ground since I left the truck. I took my now soaked shirt off and replaced it with a dry one, unstrapped my bow, and began to hunt.
There have been times I've been in this hanging valley when every single white oak tree had the bark worn off from bears climbing after acorns. Today was not one of those times. I only saw one small stand of white oaks that had any amount of acorns but there was ample evidence of squirrels cutting red oaks. I slowly made my way through the valley, stopping every few feet to look and listen. I could hear one tree in particular that was dropping acorns and I figured if I didn't find any hot sign, I would check it out later. I made my way up the valley, briefly stopping for a biscuit and an encouraging text message from my buddy @ddd-shooter, then followed a finger ridge all the way to the mountain top where I knew there was a long hardwood flat that I wanted to check out. I didn't see much bear sign, but I flushed 8 grouse out of the flat and the hog sign was so thick and rooting so deep, it was like walking in a freshly tilled garden. I saw a very large boar just as he was cutting across the flat in front of me, but when he got downwind of me, he tore off like a freight train and I could hear him crashing for what seemed like a few hundred yards. I hunted the flat until the wind changed directions and I decided to go back down the mountain to where I heard those acorns falling.
Along the way, I found fairly fresh lapping in the top of a red oak where a bear, sometime in the last week, twisted and broke limbs to get the acorns. I figure bears are forced to climb up to get the only acorns the hogs haven't vacuumed up. As I was making my way down the ridge, I heard the unmistakable crack and peel of a limb being broken and twisted. I knew there was a bear up a tree somewhere a couple hundred hards below me. I checked the wind and very cautiously proceeded to hone in on the sound. While stopped and listening, I saw a treetop shake and I put the binoculars on it just in time to see a hairy black arm reach up and grab a limb and pull it down. I sent a quick text to @ddd-shooter and told him I was starting my stalk. The woods are very dry right now and leaves and twigs are crunchy, so stalking required patience and self control. I tried to listen for him to make noise, then move while he was moving. It took several long minutes of checking wind and waiting for opportunities, but I eventually found myself 19 yards from his tree. It was so thick, I still couldn't see him until I sidestepped a little and then there was his big brown muzzle. I tried to range a yardage and I'm not sure I ranged him or limbs, but I came up with 24 yards. He had just broken a large limb and let it fall to the ground and he began to reposition himself, or maybe he was coming down the tree to feed on the acorns he had just dropped. Either way, I saw a small opening and sent a Grim Reaper his way. I heard the arrow hit and he woofed and came down the tree like a rocket. He stopped briefly about 12 feet off the ground, looked at me, then hit the ground and bolted down the mountain.
The excitement of the stalk and the anticipation of the shot was magnificent. I'm truly blessed to be able to experience times like this. I gave him a few minutes and slipped to the base of the tree. There was immediately a good blood. I had first heard the limb break at 10:50, spotted him at 10:59, and finally made a shot at 11:17.
At the base of the tree
This is what he was after
At 1:40, after over 400 yards of tracking, I called it quits.
He ran straight down the mountain leaving decent blood for about 350 yards. It got sparse at times, but then I would pick it back up. I finally lost blood just above a hog wallow and after circling and backtracking, I decided he had not expired. At this point, I was way down in a hole and still had a long way to come out, so I began the slow steep climb out. I was on the edge of a laurel thicket and came upon a well worn game trail. I decided to follow it and hope it brought me out somewhere near my trail. Imagine my surprise when I looked down on the trail and spotted blood. He had abandoned his downhill flight and taken one of his trails. This further convinced me he was not mortally wounded. The last blood I found, was a place where he stood for some time. OnX says it was 408 yards from the tree I shot him in.The last blood, 408 yards from the tree
Upon reflection, I believe I hit him lower than I wanted to. Of course, shooting straight up is not a shot I practice very often with a bow. Despite the disappointment of wounding an animal and not finding it, today was a marvelous day in God's great creation. And though my legs and feet feel like I've run a marathon, I'm already looking forward to doing it again.
