Amazingly, the temperatures did not improve with the passing days.  With my former fire-stoking cohort back at home, Jim soon became my pyrotechnics partner for the rest of the trip.  We would take turns hurling derogatory expletives at the weather and adding wood to the fire each night. 

 

Luckily for me, I had chosen a spot on the first day of the hunt that positioned my cot in close proximity to the wood stove, and I wasn’t about to give it up.  At one point I believe there was mention from my heat-starved comrades of me attaining financial gain of untold riches if I simply moved my cot to a different corner of the tent, but without hesitation I chose warmth over cold, hard cash.  My momma didn’t raise no dummy!

 

With another day ahead of us our feet hit the ground running.  After gorging ourselves on another mid-morning breakfast buffet, we all gathered on shore, jumped in the boats and headed out.  Bob and the boys from Kansas all decided to hunt even though they would be going to their stands earlier than normal. 

 

I would check the remaining bait sites with Monty and Nolan to see if any of them got hit.  If any one of the sites confirmed that a bear was in the area, I would immediately go back to camp, gather up my gear and get my butt into the stand overlooking the active bait.  However, I had no such luck.  None of the sites, including The Isthmus, had been touched.  I would spend another day fishing.

 

Around 2 p.m. we got a call from Bob over one of the handheld radios.  He was in need of food.  Candis quickly put together some lunch items for him, and then Monty, Nolan and I rushed to his aid.
 
We quietly pulled up to shore with the boat and stalked down the trail to Bob’s stand.  As we neared the base of his stand tree we saw that the bait site had been torn up.  The bait barrel had been knocked over, and a large tree in the immediate area was ripped to shreds.  Upon closer inspection, we found long, brown hairs wedged into the tattered bark of the tree that suffered the bruin’s wrath -- sure signs that a big, chocolate-colored bear was the culprit responsible for the much-welcomed mayhem.  Finally, one of the bait sites had been hit!

 

We then stood the barrel upright, handed the food up to Bob, and got out of there as quickly and quietly as humanly possible.  Despite his perseverance, Bob sat until dark without ever laying eyes on the bear.  But that was not the end of our excitement for the day. 

 

Later that evening, after returning to camp, Jim reported that his bait had also been visited by a bear.  While walking to his stand, he stumbled across a fresh pile of bear scat and noticed that one of the buckets of lard revealed fresh claw marks in it.  He went on to mention that the droppings were extremely large, which normally indicates the presence of a sizeable bear.
 
Darrel, unfortunately, sat all afternoon without seeing a bear.  His bait site showed no signs of activity.
 
We all gathered on the shoreline for supper once again and sat around another cozy campfire for a few hours.  With marshmallows and hot dogs in hand, we excitedly discussed the possibilities and “what-ifs” of the next day’s hunt before calling it a day.
 
 
 Stay Tuned for Day 10