 Crouched tight to the ground, I could hear the bear breathing. His massive chest cavity expanded with every breath as green drool ran off his lower lip, the result of having recently taken a bite of fresh grass. His coal black nose, moist and glistening in the afternoon light, worked in prehensile-like fashion, taking in smells.
I dared not move, for fear the brute would see me, and possibly attack out of instinct. Shielded by nothing more than my bow and a few sprigs of foliage I'd earlier stuck in the ground to serve as a blind, I'd obviously chosen the right trail. Inside five yards of the ebony bruin, I was pinned down, unable to even reach full draw.
Breathing heavy, the giant bear laboriously prepared his 500-pound frame to start moving. Lifting a paw, he cautiously stepped my way, continuing along the trail that I'd been watching him on for over 100 yards. At four yards, I knew the situation wasn't good, for if the bear detected danger, chances of a reactionary attack felt high.
I had no choice but to twitch my bow, hoping the movement would subtly alert the bear to the fact something was not right. At my movement the huge, blocky head of the biggest black bear I'd ever seen slowly turned and focused his attention directly on me.
His small, marble-like eyes cut through my bow, and directly met my face. His nose worked hard as he took in deep shots of air in an effort to pick up my foreign odor. As his ears perked up, the long hair atop his shoulders stiffened. Thoughts of what would happen next began racing through my mind faster than I could process them. One more step forward and the bear would be in my lap.
Taking in one last breath, the bear blew through his snout, grunted and whirled on his hind legs. He sprinted and stopped, now eight yards away. For the first time, I was able to reach full draw, but the angle wasn't right for a shot. Giving one last, grimacing stare, the bear soon melted into the brush at trail's edge.
Despite my failure to get a shot, it was the most memorable moment of my black bear hunting career. I was hunting on Washington State’s Quinault Indian Reservation, an area recently opened to hunting by non-tribal members for the first time since 1855.
Quinault Brutes
What makes the Quinault such a bear paradise — other than lack of hunting pressure — is the rich habitat, which fosters high bear densities. Along with saturated bear populations come a mind-boggling number of big boars. Last spring I hunted the Quinault for six days and saw nearly two dozen bears; I'm confident all were boars.
Another point that makes the Reservation such a special place to hunt is that bait is allowed. This is the only place in the state where baiting is legal, and it's effective in both the spring and fall seasons. Combine all of these factors and you come away with what could well be the best, in-your-face, bear hunting the Lower 48 has to offer.
Jaime Lorton, of M & D Quinault Guide Service, says baiting is everything up here. "We run 24 bait sites, and hunters can work from either tree stands or ground blinds," Lorton shares. "Hearing these bears breathing, when you're on the ground, only a few yards away, is a rush! When an experience like that happens — usually when it's over — some hunters really get excited."
Hunting from ground blinds is an option, not a rule, when hunting with Lorton. He uses pop-up blinds to help conceal movement, and situates them along trails leading to the bait, not directly on the bait itself. "When you hear these bears moving through the brush, and they come to within feet of where you're sitting, there's nothing like it," notes Lorton.
In a quest to target big bears, Lorton and his partner — his father — cruise all their bait sites, assessing activity and more importantly, track size. "Once we find a big bear working a bait, we'll put up a blind and leave it up the whole time we're hunting that station," Lorton points out. "The bears get used to the blinds, they are not spooked in the least, which makes for some great, close-encounter experiences." Lorton notes that the biggest of the big bears do appear more skittish. "They are more wise to what's going on. They take their time, think out every move and proceed with patience."
When hunting in the jungle-like rainforest of the Quinault, the action can happen fast. Thick vegetation often conceals bear movement until the very last moment, which keeps hunters on edge every minute of the day. "Most people want to hunt out of tree stands, simply because it's safer," concludes Lorton. "But some do thrive on the tense action a ground blind provides."
Last spring my buddy, Jim Burnworth, nailed a 400-plus pound brute on the Quinault, whose skull measured just shy of 22 inches. There were reportedly other bears taken on the Reservation with skulls that eclipsed the magic 22-inch mark, and several over 20 inches.
In addition to seeing the biggest bear of my life on the Quinault, I also saw what would be the second largest, heck, maybe even the largest. He would have been a dead bear with a gun, but I'd already taken a nice boar with my Thompson Center Omega, and was determined to get one with a bow.
The shy boar came down a trail, toward the bait, but never got closer than 75 yards. He had that old bear look; sagging skin, giant legs with no apparent separation at the wrists, a swaggering walk that saw his hind end gyrate to the side with every step, and a huge head with ears perched on the side of his skull. He wasn't heavy, no more than 350 pounds, but frame and skull wise he was a giant.
Of the 23 bears I'd see while hunting this paradise, a half-dozen would range within 15 yards, with three passing within single-digit yardage. There's no doubt, the Quinault has some giant bears, bears that will give Prince of Wales and Vancouver islands a run in the record books. It takes patience to score on the forest-dwelling big ones, but if you're searching for a face-to-face encounter with a giant bear, this place is hard to beat.
Other Up-Close Options
Out West, blackberry crops are soon to be in season, and for bear hunters seeking the ultimate spot-and-stalk thrill, this time of year is hard to beat. Starting in early August, as berries ripen, bears start moving in. They will come from miles, and often can be found in large numbers amid berry thickets.
On a recent late summer hunt, a buddy and I stalked to within 15 yards of three different bears one morning. One bear found us within eight yards. We saw the vines whipping around from a great distance, obviously being fed upon by a bear. But the patch was so thick, that even though we could closely approach, we couldn't see the thing to get a shot. You could hear his lips smacking, tongue working and olfactory senses moving into overdrive to take in the succulent, sweet taste of berries. We never did get a shot at that bear, but later stealthed to within 12 yards of a bruin, which we killed.
Hounds are another exciting means by which to get close to bears. We once had a bear treed, and I struggled to get a shot through the thick tangle of limbs. I was forced to move almost directly under the bear, intending to take a shot then plunge out of the way as quickly as possible. As I prepared to shoot, I stumbled over an exposed root. Looking down to make sure I didn't fall, when I glanced back up, the bear was gone.
The hounds were barking so loud, I failed to hear my partner shout warnings that the bear was on his way down. I worked around the base of the old growth Douglas Fir that sported an eight-foot base, and when I reached the backside, there was the bear, arm's length away. It happened so quickly, I had no time for a shot, but fortunately, the bear sped off in the opposite direction. We eventually caught up with that bear, and enjoyed some good roasts that winter.
For those seeking a bit more relief when hunting these dangerous predators, tree stands offer a buffer zone. Mind you, that doesn't mean tree stands are a 100% guarantee that you won't have an intimate encounter.
Sitting in a tree stand in Canada one year, I'd come in from the opposite direction from where I thought the bears would approach the bait. It caught me off-guard when I saw a bear coming from the river bank, hit the same trail I'd followed, then proceeded to sniff his way right up to the base of my tree.
He wasn't a big bear, and I had no intention of shooting him. Looking through the rungs on my tree stand, I watched the bear as he sniffed the air, then stood on his hind legs and began licking the foot pegs.
The bear made eye contact, then started up the tree. He couldn't get around the bottom of the stand, and stout limbs kept him from working around the back. Kicking at the bear didn't help, and yelling was not an option, for fear of spooking a bigger bear in the area.
While keeping this bear at bay, an incident entered my mind, one I'd heard of while living in Alaska. A man and his wife had rowed a boat across a lake, to their cabin. That afternoon a sound caught their attention; a bear on the porch, nothing out of the ordinary.
The couple tried scaring it away, but the bear grew more aggressive. The bear broke the kitchen window, and got smacked in the nose with a frying pan. Then it busted through the cabin door, at which time the couple fled out the busted window.
Climbing up a tree, the couple soon found themselves safe on the roof. For over an hour they played cat-and-mouse with the bear, moving from one side of the roof to the other. Realizing the bear wasn't going away, the man made a move off the roof, to the lake, and hopped in the boat to head to the neighbors for a gun.
When the man returned, the wife was not on the roof. He called, but no answer. He looked inside the cabin. Nothing. Then he skirted around the back of the cabin, only to find the gruesome sight of the bear feeding on the wife's body.
Later inspection revealed the bear had climbed a tree near the cabin, forcing the wife to flee. She never made it out of the yard. The husband killed the bear, a mere 150-pound boar.
While the bear in my tree didn't appear overly aggressive, nonetheless, he wasn't leaving, which concerned me. Breaking off a branch, I poked it through the rungs of the tree stand and jabbed it into the bear's nose and eyes. Thankfully, that convinced him to leave.
The unique thing about bear hunting is that much of the thrill is directly related to the level of danger involved. The more dangerous the experience, the more the adrenaline rush, the more adrenaline, the greater the moment and the more fond the memories. Of course, this is no game, and how each hunter chooses to pursue bears is their call. Play it smart, study their behavior, keep a cool head, and soon you'll understand why having bears in your face is such an addiction.
Calling Bears
For the ultimate in face-to-face bear hunting, try calling. Predator calls, especially during the upcoming fall months, cow and calf elk calls along with doe and fawn distress sounds, can be very effective for calling bears.
The challenge of calling bears lies in their behavior; you never know how they are going to respond. That's why getting a visual on the bears prior to calling offers a huge advantage. This allows hunters to observe how the bear responds to the calls. Some bears come sprinting in, others start in and lose interest, still others never acknowledge your presence.
Remember, the goal of calling bears is to entice them to kill a food source, you! If this makes the skin crawl, remote digital calls are the way to go, where legal. If there's lots of sign in an area, cold-calling can work, but give it time. Calling virtually nonstop, for up to an hour, can pay off. Such intense calling is another reason electronic calls are a good investment. Call a bear in close, and you'll be hooked for life – Scott Haugen
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Face-To-Face Bears
