I was in the stand at 4:36pm --Rick and Paul left at 4:40 PM. While sitting anxiously I awaited the big one who had crushed the bait barrel last year and then again this year. Soon it got dark, but no bear came to the bait. Probably the bear didn't show up because it knew I was there. No leaves on the trees yet and from across the hill it could see me if I moved the slightest. Not sure why no bear came in, but this is hunting.

Rick and I discussed about going to another bait at the brook so I was going there for today since the bait at Bob's place had not been hit on Sunday, but Paul would check again on Monday morning. Paul came to the Lodge at noon and reported that the bait at Bob's place had been hit but, when he went in to the brook bait, there was a bear with his head in the barrel. The bear had a beautiful white crest on his chest according to Paul. After thinking about this, I opted to go the brook bait because I wanted the other bait to be hit on a regular basis.

Therefore, we went out to the brook bait at 3:50 PM and a bear was standing to the right of the bait about 8 to 10 feet in the woods. You could see the bear faintly in the shadows of the trees. Soon it began to walk, but very slowly. It wasn't spooked at all, as it walked behind the bait and back into the woods at an angle. This was encouraging and I whispered to Paul that this bear would come back into the bait as soon as he left. Paul said he wasn't going up to re-bait since it had not been hit but would put down some fish oil and molasses. I proceeded to get into the stand and everything was settled down by 4:00 PM. Paul left and I sat there very motivated for this stand.

It was windy but that bear was not bothered by the wind or by us. I named the bear, Gentle Ben and it probably weighed between 125 and 150 lbs., but it was not the white-crested one that Paul had seen earlier which weighed about 250 lbs. Needless to say, I was hyped. Nothing came to the bait and it was now 8:03, no wind and quiet as can be. Now things were beginning to happen.

At 8:03 a small bear about 100 plus lbs. came into view to my right as I faced the bait. It walked up to my stand about 20 feet away sniffing the oil that Paul had spread around. The bear was very nervous and it took so long to get to the bait. It kept sniffing and walking around in front me, but eventually it leaped across the brook and walked up to the bait from behind. By now my heart was really pumping as I do get excited anytime I see any size bear. However, the bear continued to look around which excited me as this is a good sign another bear may be coming. It finally started licking the molasses from the lid on the bait and was very careful not to knock the lid off for fear another bear would hear the noise and come charging it. After a few minutes, it perked up its ears straight back looking to its left and then ran out of the bait as if I shot at it. That was a good sign because I knew another larger bear was moving into the area.

Another bear, which I thought might weigh about 250 - 300 lbs., walked into the bait from the right across the brook. It was 8:10 PM and now I could see it was almost as large as the bear I shot last year that was estimated at 350 lbs. by the taxidermist, based on the bear's measurements. Soon this bear became nervous and he ran out, too. Shortly thereafter, and I am talking seconds, another bear appeared, a little larger but roughly the same size. Nervous and excited are words that were probably written all over my forehead. But this bear didn't stay around either; he looked across the brook to my right and he ran out. 

Tension was building as I glanced to my right moving my head very slowly and there was a bear standing about 35 feet away in the woods behind some bushes, looking across the brook at the bait. Good thing I wasn't having my heart or pulse rate checked by the doctor. My blood pressure reading would have gone off the charts. The bear walked very slowly but was not concerned about anything; he just slowly walked through the woods toward the other side of the babbling brook. Oftentimes I would lose sight of him in the woods and then pick up his movements again. Before I knew it, he was at the bait and in no hurry. Needless to say, this was the dominant bear. While I was watching the bear I kept saying to myself; "I wonder how many bears visited this sight each day?" I had seen five, one when I went into the bait and now four more came to the bait in less than 20 minutes and Paul had seen the white crested bear which never showed up this evening.

Talk about excited. I clicked two pictures of this bear after it had scratched its back on a tree and then lay down. I thought it was going to go to sleep. Soon it picked up its head, got up and walked to the bait. Since I had taken two pictures, I thought I should look through the scope to get a better look and when I did, yipes, this was a very large bear with a huge head. I thought to myself, after setting down my rifle, that I may not see another bear this large again. Thinking about it for a moment, I picked up my rifle and sighted in the bear again in my scope. It was standing full broad side and a perfect shot. I decided to take him and squeezed off one round. The bear clenched up and I knew he was hit hard, the bear turned slowly and loped out of sight. Normally when a bear is not hit good, it will run out as if the shooter missed. Now for the tracking.

Again, I called Rick on the cell phone, same as last year, however this time I had gotten the dialing down perfectly. I had waited a few minutes before calling because I thought for sure I would hear the death moan and had to listen very attentively because of the noise the brook made. No death moan so I called Rick right away as it was 8:25 PM and starting to get dark. Rick said he would be there in 15 minutes or so. Soon Rick, Stephen and Paul showed up and got all my gear, including me, out of the tree stand. Rick was the first one at the bait to look for blood and there was blood but not very much. That did not surprise me because when you hit a bear in the lungs high, at first it doesn't bleed very much. We began tracking and used flashlights picking up spots of blood and then losing the blood trail in the dark. But we didn't stop and Rick knew exactly what to do. He and Paul would look in a circle until they found more blood, and we were on our way again. 

Of course, all kinds of thoughts went through my head like I didn't hit it good enough, I only knicked it, heck I am not going to get this bear, what if we don't find it tonight -- it is supposed to rain tonight and we won't be able to pick up the trail in the morning and so forth. As a hunter who has shot plenty of game and 8 bears prior to this, along with helping to track other bears, you can't count the bear in the freezer until you have him back at camp. Oh well, on and on we moved through the darkness, flashlights glaring. Every once in a while someone would shine a light in my eyes or I would shine a light in theirs and we would be blinded for a few moments. No time for laughter, we had a serious situation at hand -- finding Fred's bear. Some of the places this bear ran were like tunnels under the dense spruce branches where only a bear could travel. We broke the branches as we continued to trail this bear.

Before you knew it, ten o'clock had come and gone. We had been trailing this bear for over an hour. Here we are in single file, Rick with my rifle, Paul behind him followed by myself and Stephen. One of the most daring parts of trailing a wounded bear, is you never know where that bear laid down and when will he jump up if he is still alive. And, here we are in total darkness, except for whatever light came from the flashlights except when we shined it in each other's eyes. We were getting closer and it was getting later. I looked down at Stephen's feet and he had on a pair of brand new white running shoes. Looking puzzled, I asked Stephen why he didn't have on hiking boots. He told me that when we find the bear he might need to take off and run. I said, "Stephen, you can't outrun a bear". His reply was, "I don't have to outrun the bear, I only have to outrun you, my Dad and Paul". I told Stephen to leave the jokes to me.

Finding only minimal blood, Rick and Paul continued to pick up enough blood to continue our search. Soon we came to a sapling covered with blood as if you painted it with a brush. My heart began to beat faster. Now I knew it was definitely a lung shot because the blood was high on the sapling. We went another twenty-five feet and this was the first place the bear laid down. For the first time, I knew we were definitely going to find the bruin. Another 40 feet or so and Rick yelled out, "Fred, there is your bear. Wow, that is a very big bear". The bear was behind a tree facing us and all we could see was one arm as the tree hid most of the bear. 

Rick said he didn't know whether the bear was dead or alive. So I said, "Shoot him again, but just don't shoot him in the head". Rick gets the bravery award as he went up and poked the bear, and by this time, Stephen and I were already running back to the truck. 

Okay, we got the bear, now what??? Rick suggested that we leave him in the woods for the night and come back in the morning to get him. As it was almost 10:15pm, I agreed because I had no idea how far we were in the woods, nor the direction to get back out. Rick asked Paul if he had a compass and Paul said it was in the truck. Now I have carried a compass on my watchband for the past five years just for this purpose, but did I think of my compass? You are correct. I was probably so shook because of the excitement at the bait with the parade of bears, shooting a large bear and then tracking it in the dark. How else does one spend their evenings? Well, my gingko biloba hadn't kicked in and I forgot I was wearing my compass until we got back to the truck. Oh well, so much for being prepared.

All night I thought of how they would get the bear out of the woods, what if another bear came along and picked up my bear. All kinds of thoughts go through one's mind -- and they are all bad. Rick and Paul had quite a surprise for the next morning, as we will find out shortly. At first light they went to blaze a trail in order to get the bear out of the woods, but this chore would, indeed, be a "bear", no pun intended. 

They must have known something I didn't because the day before they had gone and picked up a hood of a car. Now you can begin to see how they got the bear out of the woods. Paul and Bob came and got me, Rick had an inspection on his tug boat. The three of us went out to the brook bait, they unloaded the quad and off into the woods they went. I was brave as I waited at the truck drinking coffee and trying to alert all my senses. All this excitement does take its toll.

Within fifteen minutes, here comes Paul driving the quad and dragging the bear tied on the inverted hood of the car. The bear never lost one hair from its hide. Bob told me the story of how they got the bear across the brook. Paul stopped with the wheels in the water, the hood on the bank and then he gunned the motor, thereby accelereating across the water. The hood became a water ski and the bear never saw a drop of water. 

Talk about people going that extra mile just to get a bear out of the woods? Well, my hat is off to everyone who helped with the tracking and removing the bear from the woods. Soon we were back at the Lodge, taking pictures and telling the BS stories with me telling the most and longest. Even today as I tell everyone about this adventure it takes me a lot longer to tell the story than the amount of time that actually transpired. You can probably tell this by the "short" message I am writing here. Well, there is all kind of wind, right?

TIDBITS OF INFORMATION:

I only use Federal partition type bullets, 180 grain for bear and 165 for deer and these work the best in my Remington, Game Master 30-06. The only day it rained was Sunday and there is no hunting anyway. The taxidermist is the best I have ever used and I have eight bears mounted, one of which is at the Lodge right now and on Sue's web page. This year's bear will be in the Lodge in September where both will be on display for other hunters to see what is running around in the woods. Robyn, Rick's daughter, rolled three yahtzees in one game so nobody will play yahtzee with her anymore, except me. Gail and I went to bingo one night where the games paid $ 8.00, but the jackpot paid $ 32.00 for the last game. Yes, they provided Security Police to escort the winner home. Oh, the pictures I took at the bait didn't turn out, so I guess I will have to go back up in October and take some more. This time, I will also bring a camcorder with plenty of batteries and tapes. Oh, my blood pressure has finally normalized.

Dale Robinson, who owns Tratton Run Wilderness Company, came over Monday night to skin the bear. Dale did the mount on my bear last year and the pose is as I remember the bear before I shot it. It is standing in Rick's Lodge looking out the window waiting for this year's bear to be finished to accompany him. Oh, don't trust the dog at Rick's Lodge, the brown and white one. After Dale removed the swizzlestick, we took more pictures, but when we looked for the swizzlestick, it was gone. Rick's father, Jack told me he was cleaning ducks one day and the dog took off with one of his ducks. They never did find the duck.

Everyone reading this epistle, have a good hunt and always practice gun safety.

Fred Hart

PS I have written this with the sole intention of providing facts about my hunting trip with Hart's Lake Lodge in May, 2000. Oh, some of the stories in here are completely fictitious but most tell of what really happened that night in the woods.

In summing up I want to say this: You will not find an outfitter, guide, family, or taxidermist better or friendlier than Rick Hamilton's family at Hart's Lake Lodge. And to clarify one point, I would like to say that even though my last name is Hart, I do not own this Lodge, but I feel like a part of the family.