Our nightly fire had long since burned itself out, but no one in our tent batted an eye or even noticed.  Since our comfort level had vastly improved during the night, there was no need or desire to stoke the fire. 

We later awoke to a morning greeting that was unlike any we had experienced since arriving in camp.  It was downright hot!  By 10:00 a.m. the skies cleared, and the mercury soared to a balmy 84 degrees; quite the change from what we had endured for the past 13 days.

The unexpected heat wave was a welcomed change.  We no longer had to dress in multiple layers or keep ourselves in near-constant motion just to stay warm.  We had been waiting and hoping that favorable weather conditions would prevail for the entire trip.  Now the only questions that remained were: Did the change come soon enough, and did it arrive too little-too late to make any discernable difference?

Monty and Jim were not about to accept defeat easily.  On this morning’s outing, they enlisted the assistance of Nolan and Darrel, who would join them at Jim’s bait site and lend a helping hand in the ongoing search for Jim’s bear.  By working together, more ground would be covered in their quest, thus increasing the odds of successfully locating the wounded bear. 

If nothing else, Monty and Jim simply wanted to try and rule out any possibility that the bear may have been missed or overlooked while executing their previous search attempts, either from lying lifeless in a brushy tangle of blowdowns or by holing up in a patch of thick timber to recuperate from its injuries.  This objective was the driving force behind their commitment, and they would maintain their labors even if it meant finally conceding to the fact that the animal had survived its wounds and was lost for good. 

Losing an animal that survives the ill effects of an unsteady hand and an ineffective aim is very unsettling to a principled outdoorsman.  Although, in the end, it’s somewhat easier to swallow than knowing you failed to find the animal’s final resting place due to a sloppy or lackadaisical approach during the recovery process. 

Furthermore, it’s an unwritten rule of all ethically-minded hunters and outfitters to follow up each and every trace of evidence that may lead to tracking down a wounded animal before calling off the search.  And, Monty and Jim would honorably follow this self-regulated directive to the letter.  I must say that, under the circumstances, I am very proud and impressed to be a part of and witness their level of dedication.  After all, we were all alone in the vast wilderness with no official or authority present to monitor or police this “golden rule.” 

While the search for Jim’s bear spun a story of its own, it was time for me to head back to my tree stand and finish the task that I had signed up for -- killing a Manitoba black bear with my bow. 

It was 2:30 p.m. by the time I got settled into my stand and was ready to hunt.  Even with the changing weather pattern, my bait site still had not been touched.  In spite of this, I had a specially-reserved, front row seat to one of the greatest shows in the world, the untamed Manitoba countryside in its wildest form. 

For seven and a half hours I watched frolicking mink and chipmunks, the impish amusements of a raucous band of roughhousing grey squirrels, and majestic eagles soaring across sapphire skies so brilliant that it hurt my eyes to stare for any length of time.  Never mind the bears, or the lack thereof; I was perched on my own private version of cloud nine with not a care in the world.  I simply refused to waste one single moment of this grand experience on negativity.  Besides, God willing, there would always be a “next time around.”