Tio Hey Seuss
Senior Member
I know some of you guys heard the story already but here it is with some more pictures and a few more details.
We left the trail head around 8:00 am at a healthy pace since we only had one day to hunt. At 9:30 my cousin, Marc Sanders, spotted a bear about 50 yards in front of us. It was looking in our direction but the wind was good for now (in our face, slight left to right) so we froze, hoping it might feed in our direction. The foliage was too thick to tell how big it was or if there were cubs.
To compound our difficulties, a group of hogs came in from 90° to our right. We sat still as the bear walked away and the hogs fed within 10 yards at times. Once they moved on we dropped our packs and started moving again as quietly as possible. We decided our best bet was to make for the nearest water source hoping the bear would get thirsty eventually. After creeping a few hundred yards over the course of 2 hrs we arrived at the spring and he showed up 15 min later.
Marc took the first shot. Broadside, 20 yards. It was high and a bit forward but the bear was obviously having trouble moving. "I hit him and I'm not loosing him!" Marc yelled back as he disappeared downhill into the blueberry bushes. I kept pace the best I could but Marc can run me under the table when his adrenaline isn't high...I soon lost sight and, as Marc was following him based on sound at this point, I decided it best to halt and avoid "muddying the waters" so to speak. I moved sidehill as quick as I could while still listening.
"I see him!" Marc exclaimed before firing again. 2 rounds left in his rifle. "He's turned uphill and coming your way!"
Less than seconds later I hear another shot and a panicked scream. The scream of a dude involved in a fight for his life. Another shot rings out and then...silence...for what seems like an eternity, before I hear sounds of victory. See, shortly after the bear turned uphill, Marc slipped and fell on his butt. Whether the bear heard or saw him fall we're not sure but as soon as Marc was on his butt the bear came at him.
"Hurry!" Marc says. " I'm ok but you need to finish him. I'm out of bullets!"
We hoot and holler to track eachother until I arrive. The bear is on his back, struggling to get up but obviously in a daze. There's a wound from a glancing bullet on the top of his head right between his ears. I believe this final shot, glancing as it was, more than likely saved Marc's life. Good thing we shot rats with the .22 all summer! I finished the fight with my new .338-06 at point blank. Approximately 350 yards from the site of the first shot.
All told, it took us 28 hrs to get the meat, hide/skull and maybe 30 pounds of fat out of the woods and on ice after the kill. We only had enough in us to get the meat the first night so we decided to sink the hide in a creek the best we could and cover it in rocks. To say the pack out was hellish is an understatement. We made it in 2 trips. 7 miles each trip. My legs have never been so sore and I can't wait to get back after them!?
Follow up:
Just met with a game tech and got him tagged this morning. Estimated live weight is on record as 450. Now, the dude wasn't that old but he said it was PROBABLY the oldest bear he's ever tagged in Georgia or Wyoming. I pressed him for a guess but he was a very good researcher and refused to throw out a number. The best I could get was "If there was a chart of different age classes of bears, this would be in the oldest category" or something to that effect. Thanks to Ann, Walker, Tim and Steve with the DNR for their help through the tagging process.
We left the trail head around 8:00 am at a healthy pace since we only had one day to hunt. At 9:30 my cousin, Marc Sanders, spotted a bear about 50 yards in front of us. It was looking in our direction but the wind was good for now (in our face, slight left to right) so we froze, hoping it might feed in our direction. The foliage was too thick to tell how big it was or if there were cubs.
To compound our difficulties, a group of hogs came in from 90° to our right. We sat still as the bear walked away and the hogs fed within 10 yards at times. Once they moved on we dropped our packs and started moving again as quietly as possible. We decided our best bet was to make for the nearest water source hoping the bear would get thirsty eventually. After creeping a few hundred yards over the course of 2 hrs we arrived at the spring and he showed up 15 min later.
Marc took the first shot. Broadside, 20 yards. It was high and a bit forward but the bear was obviously having trouble moving. "I hit him and I'm not loosing him!" Marc yelled back as he disappeared downhill into the blueberry bushes. I kept pace the best I could but Marc can run me under the table when his adrenaline isn't high...I soon lost sight and, as Marc was following him based on sound at this point, I decided it best to halt and avoid "muddying the waters" so to speak. I moved sidehill as quick as I could while still listening.
"I see him!" Marc exclaimed before firing again. 2 rounds left in his rifle. "He's turned uphill and coming your way!"
Less than seconds later I hear another shot and a panicked scream. The scream of a dude involved in a fight for his life. Another shot rings out and then...silence...for what seems like an eternity, before I hear sounds of victory. See, shortly after the bear turned uphill, Marc slipped and fell on his butt. Whether the bear heard or saw him fall we're not sure but as soon as Marc was on his butt the bear came at him.
"Hurry!" Marc says. " I'm ok but you need to finish him. I'm out of bullets!"
We hoot and holler to track eachother until I arrive. The bear is on his back, struggling to get up but obviously in a daze. There's a wound from a glancing bullet on the top of his head right between his ears. I believe this final shot, glancing as it was, more than likely saved Marc's life. Good thing we shot rats with the .22 all summer! I finished the fight with my new .338-06 at point blank. Approximately 350 yards from the site of the first shot.
All told, it took us 28 hrs to get the meat, hide/skull and maybe 30 pounds of fat out of the woods and on ice after the kill. We only had enough in us to get the meat the first night so we decided to sink the hide in a creek the best we could and cover it in rocks. To say the pack out was hellish is an understatement. We made it in 2 trips. 7 miles each trip. My legs have never been so sore and I can't wait to get back after them!?
Follow up:
Just met with a game tech and got him tagged this morning. Estimated live weight is on record as 450. Now, the dude wasn't that old but he said it was PROBABLY the oldest bear he's ever tagged in Georgia or Wyoming. I pressed him for a guess but he was a very good researcher and refused to throw out a number. The best I could get was "If there was a chart of different age classes of bears, this would be in the oldest category" or something to that effect. Thanks to Ann, Walker, Tim and Steve with the DNR for their help through the tagging process.
