More Funny (& not so funny) Bear stories from fishers and hunters

Chris (Salmon Shark) and I got into some fun story recollections from fishing Alaska together, in the 'Cinnamon roll call ...' thread, and I put up one about bears in it. Over a year ago we had a funny bear story thread that was very interesting and a lot of fun. Since there are so many new memebrs here I thought it would be cool to read some of your experiences with bears and other wild animals while out fihsing and hunting. ... I will copy my true bear story over to this thread too. ...

"I wrote in the funny fishing related stories thread last year about the true bear spray test I did when we got up past Tok Alaska on that eventful trip. Since there are so many new members here at ifish, I will repeat it here - also so maybe you guys will be careful with that stuff! ... I had purchased a large can of extra powerful bear spray repellant from Dr. Charles Jonkel (University of Montana wildlife bio and grizzly bear reseacher). Mace is about 5% capsasin, police cap. is about 10%, and this stuff was about 12 to 15% and shot a larger amount of it up to 20+ feet. I had a full can of it and wanted to test the effectiveness of it before we were to tent camp on the banks of an AK river for a month. We located the perfect place to test this out - a big garbage dump near the AK Hwy. between Tok and Gulkana. We pulled in there and immediately saw 3 large black bears (like 400 to 500 lbs, - not small ones like down here), but no grizzlies at the time. These would do fine. And they weren't about to leave the scraps just because we were around either. I had Bill position the rig to be somewhat upwind of the bears with a mild breeze at our back; about 40 yards away. I put the spray canister in a belt holster it came with and stepped out of the Jeep Wagoneer a few feet away - close enough I thought in case the bears ran at me and the spray didn't deter them. Well I figured I had already impressed my buddies by just stepping out there (NOT), and wanted to further impress them with my Wyatt Earp quick draw style of spraying this stuff into the breeze toward the bears, to see if a small amount made them run away. Well I really impressed my 2 comrades alright [img]images/icons/rolleyes.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/grin.gif[/img] ... I had taken off the safety pin and said a 'Yall like "watch this", and quickly grabbed the canister while at the same time accidently pushing the canister trigger as it was stuck in the holster! It sprayed a huge orange swath of this horrid stuff down my right pant leg. Aaaarrrrggggg! I was immediately into the worst hard coughing/gagging spell I'd ever had. Fortunately the mild breeze carried much of the orange cloud away from me - but not toward these bears. But they ran into the woods anyway; probably at the unusual site of a crazy coughing fool rolling on the ground ripping his pants off! Geeez! I threw my pants as far into the garbage direction as I could. Then I had the indignity of having to beg Chris to unlock the doors and let me back in the Wagon; while these 2 guys were laughing there @$$e$ off. I definitely was not LMAO! [img]images/icons/blush.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/blush.gif[/img] Live and learn, eh?" - Steve

[Crusin]

The Forest Service has issued a BEAR WARNING in the national forests
for this summer. They're urging everyone to protect themselves by
wearing bells and carrying pepper spray.

Campers should be alert for signs of fresh bear activity, and they
should be able to tell the difference between Black Bear dung and
Grizzy Bear dung.

Black Bear dung is rather small and round. Sometimes you can see
fruit seeds and/or squirrel fur in it.

Grizzly Bear dung has bells in it, and smells like pepper spray!

[birdhunter]

Here's a true (if not somewhat long) story about a cougar attack that happened to me a few years back. Now you know why I always carry a gun when I'm in the woods.


On a warm September evening I sat on a rocky out cropping overlooking eight-mile canyon with a feeling of quiet depression. The opening weekend of the high Cascade deer season had been a tremendous disappointment and I couldn’t help but blame myself. Four days of solid hunting had produced no deer. “Oh well, I still have the general Western season,” I thought as I stood up to leave. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me and turned around to see a tawny shape explode from the brush. I knew immediately what I was looking at: a mountain lion, coming right for me.

My weekend began simply enough. My father and I met up with one of our old friends for a deer hunting trip near Crescent Lake. Four days later we had seen four does, no bucks and I had only narrowly avoided being trampled by an overly protective cow elk. The plentiful lack of sign was due mainly to overly dry weather, which drove the deer onto irrigated, private land. It was no surprise that we decided to pack it up and leave early Monday morning.

We had driven about halfway home when the hunting bug hit. I don’t give up easily and disdain the taste of failure. I casually mentioned to my Dad that we would be driving through the White River area anyway on the way home, and it was still in our hunt area so…. A few hours later we pulled off on a gravel road, a mile or so above eight-mile creek. The White River area consists of a series of creeks draining from the east side of Mt. Hood to the White River or the famed Deschutes. It is mostly National forest land except for the White River Game Area, from which we derive its namesake. I have been hiking, hunting and fishing the hills and valleys of the area for as long as I can remember. From the dense spruce forest to the ponderosa-covered hills to the oak savanna, this place holds many memories.

We began by scouring some water holes I knew of. The elk were rutting and had turned them into wallows. We found almost no deer sign. In fact, the only fresh sign we did find in any great number belonged to the human species. The woods were devoid of wildlife, save for the occasional grouse, which flushed at your feet in an explosion of feathers. This often left the owner of said feet clutching his chest and breathing rather heavily.

After a few hours at this, we decided it would be best to check out one last spot and then go home. The area we intended to explore was just north of a Boy Scout summer camp and down an old gravel logging road. By now the scouts had left for the summer so no longer did horses and campers cross the road followed by telltale dusty plumes. I can still remember spending many happy days at that camp when I was younger.

The road came to an end at the base of a clear-cut. From this point we hiked a game trail through one of the few remaining stands of timber until we reached another clear-cut and a closed road. After conferring some with my dad, we decided to split up. He would take the high ground and walk along the edge of a meadow on top of the ridge. I would follow the road and the rimrock, periodically looking into the clear-cut below for browsing deer. By now it was 6:00 pm and we didn’t have much daylight left.

I didn’t have high expectations for this trip. The road already had a number of fresh human footprints in it and I didn’t see much deer sign. As I walked along I would periodically hear crunching or cracking in the brush alongside the road, but I attributed it to birds and squirrels going about their daily activities.

By the time I got to our prearranged meeting spot, it was 6:20. I sat down on top of a rimrock cliff and looked down on upon eight-mile canyon. To my left, Mt. Hood loomed high and large. To my right I could see the Deschutes canyon and in the distance the mighty Columbia. I loved this country and was happy just to be out in it, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed in my own hunting skills.

It was then, as I was standing up, that the cat appeared. I had turned my back to the canyon when I heard some rocks slide below me. Turning quickly I saw the graceful and agile form of a mountain lion at a scant fifty yards. The cat appeared very healthy. It had a loose belly that swayed some as it ran. It was a tawny gray in complexion and looked about how I had always expected a lion to look. Moving in silence, but with such obvious speed and power, it approached. I was completely entranced and did not move.

My first reaction was one of awe and surprise. I had seen lion tracks before and caught fleeting glimpses of possible “lions”, but this was the first one I had been able to observe at such a close range. I felt lucky to have such a privilege most people never experience. Then I saw its eyes.

The cat gave me a fixed look that I have never been able to forget. It is indelibly burned into my memory like a deep brand. There was a cold, calculating look in its eyes. It was as if it was in a trance of its own. The whole of the cat, all of its energy, was focused on me. If you have ever seen a house-cat stalking a bird you know what I am talking about. It was then that I realized the hunter had become the hunted. I might have stayed mesmerized if a bright pink tongue hadn’t shot out and licked the cat’s lips.

My first impulse was to run. Luckily I knew better. That was exactly what the cat wanted and expected. It was used to having deer and other prey run from it. Once facing away, it was easier to catch the prey and break their necks in its strong jaws. I knew exactly what would happen if I tried to run. Five, maybe six steps later the lion would be all over me. Instead I tried to make myself look bigger and began yelling for Dad. He was only a scant 200 yards away, but he didn’t hear me.

The trick worked, sort of. The cat slowed down to a deliberate pacing at about 30 yards but continued on its forward progression. Now it was growling and hissing very loudly in an effort to get me to bolt. I decided then and there that I didn’t want the animal approaching any closer.

I took my trusty .308 rifle off of my shoulder and deliberately took aim. The cat was now only about 20 yards below me, but it had to pass under some down timber and in doing so turned broadside to me. I put the crosshairs behind its shoulder and squeezed the trigger. Click! The gun had misfired and the cougar continued to approach.

A wave of fear and nausea swept over me. Up until this point I had been aware of the dangerous situation I was in, but hadn’t really been scared. Now I began to shake uncontrollably and turn pale. It was at this time I realized I was probably going to die.

Soon enough my adrenaline kicked in and, I regained enough composure to lower my gun and check the cartridge. Unloading the rifle, I discovered to my relief and embarrassment that I had simply forgotten to load the gun at the beginning of the hunt. Because of my disappointing weekend and pessimistic outlook I had forgotten this crucial ritual. Quickly I jacked a shell into the chamber and looked up. The lion was nowhere to be seen.

It was then that I began to hear a low guttural growl rising from below me. The cat was directly below the small cliff I was standing on. I quickly backed up to assess the situation. The cougar had only three options if it still wanted to get me. It could come up on either side of the rock outcropping or go straight over the top. I didn’t know which it would choose and awaited its move.

The cougar decided to go over the top and in one fluid, seemingly effortless leap was standing a scant seven feet away. I raised my rifle but couldn’t make out anything in the scope, as it was now too close. I lowered the gun to my hip as the lion crouched, snarling and hissing. From my hip I fired and this time the sound of a gunshot reverberated through the canyon walls.

The mountain lion tumbled over the cliff and I immediately ran in the opposite direction, calling for my father. He had heard the shot and was on his way over to help with my “deer.” Even though he was in the middle of an open field, I almost sprinted past him in my rush. Fortunately he caught me and calmed me down enough to listen to my breathless account of what had just transpired. I took him over to the site and we peered over the edge of the cliff for the cougar.

It was nowhere to be found. The lion was somewhere in the thick re-prod patch below. We followed the tracks with our guns drawn into the thicker brush. Here and there were rich red droplets of blood and broken branches. After moving about 30 yards from where I had last seen the animal, my father suggested we rethink the logic of tracking a wounded cougar in thick brush as it was getting dark. I hastily agreed and was just about to turn back when something caught my eye.

There, coming out of a patch of tall, yellow grass was a motionless tail. We quietly snuck up and found a very dead cougar. A bullet to the head had ended its prowling. A sigh of relief went through both of us. The ordeal was over.

The cat was a 7-year-old female weighing close to 130 lbs. She didn’t have any kittens and was very healthy with plenty of adipose fat on her body. The reason for her attack still remains a confusing mystery. I now can look back and feel lucky that she decided to go after me rather than some helpless camper earlier in the summer. The site of the attack was only ¼ of a mile north of the Scout camp’s border.

It seems that with increasing numbers of lions since the ban on hound hunting, encounters like this are becoming more and more common. More hunters are purchasing tags in the event they come across a lion. We were fortunate enough to have purchased a lion tag before we went hunting and as a result there is a cougar rug gracing my room. I personally cleaned and polished the skull of the animal that had wanted to eat me. Both serve as indelible reminders of a day I will never forget.

[ 07-28-2001: Message edited by: birdhunter ]

[FEAR NO FISH!]

KEYRIPES!
Thanks Birdhunter, I am never walking in the woods again. I can't get the hairs on my body to lay down. I don't like being lower on the food chain. Now I have to go buy a bigger gun! [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img]

Great story and courage Bh. Cool!!! And you are right on about the increase in such human encounters with these cougars; throughout the western US and Canada. I have read in the 'Dateline West' dept. of Western Outdoors mag about the increase in cougar attacks - usually on smaller people because they are quite size conscience. A few people have been killed now. In one story a mountain lion grabbed a small girl in a California semi-wilderness area and it took her father and friend beating it with branches to get it to release the very injured little girl; who survived. What would have been very beneficial to the next round with voters on lifting the hunting ban on cougars is videotaped footage of that incidence, or similar ones, to run on T.V. oposite of the idiot PETA type T.V. ads that showed the dog pack treed cougar, poor big kitty cat, helplessly getting shot several times as it fell out of it's perch into the small creek. Remember it? We need to fight fire with fire the next time - because the majority of voters don't know the facts and are quite prone to emotional baloney like last time when the ban was voted in - which has increased the big cat's population to where they are also stalking and killing pets in neighborhoods that are near woods. Kids at at risk! There was a confirmed spotting of a cougar just up in the west hills near Skyline from where we live in Cedar Mills a little ways west of Portland. ODFW says there are likely a few more along that area and on out toward Vernonia where they are so close to people now. It's a similar deal with the bear hunting curtailment. Except black bears don't go looking for mammals to eat the way cougars do. ... Thanks for that good story.

RT

[DF]

This is a problem
About a year ago there was a cougar running around here in the town of St. Helens.. In the middle of town.
YIKES! [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img]

[Krome Brite]

I had a true bear encounter just a few days ago. [img]images/icons/grin.gif[/img] When I was in South Dakota a week ago, I went to a place called Bear Country U.S.A. This place had grizzly and brown bears and cubs as well as buffalo, elk, wolves, etc. to look at as you drove through this fenced in "park." The rules were you were supposed to keep your windows rolled up at all times. Well, I couldn't resist keeping it up so it stayed rolled down the whole time. Hey, I wanted to take some pictures of the mighty sleeping bears whose hair was falling out. [img]images/icons/rolleyes.gif[/img] Poor bears being kept in captivity like that, they seriously looked terrible. [img]images/icons/frown.gif[/img]

Oh man KB - the window rule isn't because those bored animals will get you! It's there because of the low lying gaseous chemical they emit into the air within the compound to keep the animals sedate. This is what is causing their hair to fall out! For people who leave their windows down against the rules it takes anywhere from 10 to 20 days for most of your hair to fall off [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img] . Sorry dude. [img]images/icons/frown.gif[/img]

[img]images/icons/grin.gif[/img]

[Krome Brite]

Ahhhhhhhh ****, it's happening! The worst part is I'm even losing hair in other places besides my head!! [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/grin.gif[/img]

[Joe Schwab]

A couple of years ago my wife and I were on our way down from Alaska and stopped by Hyder, Ak. if you have never been there by all means go. it's a two day drive from Portland and worth the trip. Anyway we wanted to see the bears fishing a couple of miles out of town. We took our camera and joined 15-20 others already there at Salmon Creek. Shortly we saw a huge Brown come walking down the creek directly towards us.
He stopped in front of us not 20 yards away and began catching Chums, skinning and eating them. he walked further down to where a number of cameas were set up on tripods and began eating there less than 20 yard from the people. We were enjoying the show when Ranger Rick showed up and told everyone to start looking for an escape route. " the trail you are all standing on belongs to him and when he decides to leave he will do so without any concern of who is in his way." My wife became concerned and asked if we should maybe move. I told her to just keep one of those old guys with the cameras between her and the bear and if he comes this way, give them a shove. Then I realized I am an "old guy" , I have a camera and she is the beneficiary of my insurance policy. We both moved to a better vantage point. If you want to see big bears up real close and don't have the money or time to go to McNeil River this is the place.
Another story related by a friend who came up to fish with me last year. He was driving the ALCAN with his two nephews and was near Stone Mt. in the Yukon. it was early in the morning and as they came around a bend they could see a campground ahead and one lone camper who they thought was playing with his big black lab. As they got closer they saw it was a black bear and the camper was doing a dance with a stick and a frying pan trying to fend off the bear. They drove into the camp and the bear got distracted then returned to the frightened camper. My friend then put his van between the camper and the bear and the camper jumped in and they shut the door. The camper was so hyped all he could say was " I'd a killed him" in a high squeaky voice, over and over. The bear left and they drove him into town, laughing about what could have been a very bad outcome. [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img] [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img]

[blackdog]

A few years ago I had the pleasure of guiding for a flyout lodge in Alaska. Part of my duties that summer included spending a month on a river not far from the McNeil River bear sanctuary, which we snuck into after it had closed down for the year for an awesome day of bear viewing and picture taking. Our river was loaded with chum when my month began, and would soon have even more silvers arriving, so the bears from McNeil would be heading our way now that their sockeye run was over. After helping get camp and the boats situated, the pilot waved goodbye and said he would be back with guests in a few days and to get familiar with the river in the meantime. Well, within a hour, I was upriver fishing off a gravel bar, catching bright chum on nearly every fifth cast, having the time of my life. Soon I had worked my way to the end of the gravel bar, where it ended in a deep back eddy. It wasn't until I turned to head back to my boat that I noticed the huge brown bear that was halfway between me and my boat. I had heard some rustling in the brush, but passed it off to the wind or maybe a moose. Well, now I was screwed. Over 100 miles from the nearest human, armed with only a 7 weight flyrod and basically nowhere to go. I didn't like my chances going head to head with this guy, so I did the only thing I could think to do, started waving my arms and yelling at the bear to get the hell out of there. I felt pretty silly yelling at an 800 lb. animal that could tear me to shreds with no effort at all. To my surprise, however, the big fella soon turned and ambled back into the brush. Not that he seemed threatened by my presence at all, I just think that he didn't feel like eating me at the time. Thank god they like the taste of salmon. After that, it was back to the boat and quickly back to camp for a can of mace, which I made sure to never forget again. [img]images/icons/shocked.gif[/img]

[sturgn]

This is the story of Earl the Grizzly bear!

Last year I went on a guided Moose hunting trip to British Columbia, and the guide we had was named Bert, He was telling us one day about Earl. Earl was a grizzly that liked to frequent the remote camps in search of food!
The fall previous to us getting there the outfitters had buit a new main camp with a beutiful lodge, they outfitted it for the following spring bear hunts, everything was there including oats for the horses. Well appereantly sometime during the early spring Earl showed up to the new lodge and totally destroyed it, he ate the oats and it gave him shall we say "The Craps" and he sprayed all over the inside of the lodge!
When the outfitters arrived they had a huge mess to clean up, and it wasnt till they where almost done that they realised the little funny looking pieces of fiber in the crap was that of the curtains out of there other lodge.... He had hit the other lodge first! Destroyed them both!
So I asked Bert why they called him Earl, he said "its from the Dixie Chicks!" I said "what?" He said "You know the song, Earls gunna Die"
The week after we left they had a hunter from Texas there paid $8000 to take care of Earl!

[Beer Waggin]

When I was 6 years old we went boat camping at Spirit Lake on Mt. St. Helens. 4 years before she blew her top. The first night we were there Mr. Bear and the family decided to raid the camp ground. Needless to say one of our coolers was packed with the usual goodies, Cracker Jacks, marshmallows, soda, and all the other things that make kids happy when they're camping. Mr. Bear found these contents to be just what he wanted for his midnight snack. He ripped the lid right off cooler just about the time some crazy woman was screaming for her life. Apparently nature called her at the wrong time of the evening and she was taking care of business when she looked up and saw a few of Mr. Bear's posse walking by. The old man jumped up with a flashlight in one hand and the trusty .357 in the other. He watched as Mr. Bear finished his Cracker Jacks, and soda, then he just shuffled on up the hill. About that time the WDFW guy walks up and explains to the old man how often this sort of thing happens in the camp ground, guess we missed the big sign that had the bear warnings on it. Needless to say the coolers went into the boat the next night, after we had re-stocked them from Harry Trueman's shelves. Never went camping on that lake again, but Mom still has that old ripped up cooler with teeth marks in it. She's never let the old man throw it away. Imagine that, she'd never let him throw the cooler away, but would never return to go camping there.