The Third Time’s a…

One of the reasons I enjoy hunting is for the adventure and travel. There may be no better way to go to new places and meet interesting people. Yet, I often find myself going to the same places since I have had such great experiences, and every time is different.

My first bear hunt was in 2009. There were eight hunters in camp that week at Trail End Camp in Pointe du Bois, Manitoba, Canada. For most of us, it was our first bear hunt. A cold front came through which was much stronger than expected and that slowed down bear movement considerably. None of us were completely prepared for the unexpected low temperatures and we all traded gear so everyone could get through. We saw a good number of bears and every one of us had opportunities to take a bear, with seven out of eight of us going home with one. We all also enjoyed the outstanding fishing that was available on the Winnipeg River.

My first bear that year was a sow on the smaller side, but I was more than thrilled. Anybody who thinks hunting bears from a stand over bait is boring has never taken the time to sit back with closed eyes and enjoy the quiet contemplative moments in the woods that are all too rare in modern life, or kept their eyes open to watch pine martins, beavers, squirrels, ruffed grouse, and fishers run through the forest. I had a sow and three cubs come in one evening which still ranks as one of the most entertaining evenings of hunting I ever had, despite never taking the safety off.

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Vance and Maureen Hrechkosy run a top notch operation in the Whiteshell Provincial Park. They employ guides who are true sportsman and love the outdoors. I returned in 2011 to again hunt bears. The economy was still struggling in 2011 and that was felt north of the border as there were only three of us in camp that week which made the hunt feel completely different than 2009.

I saw many bears in 2011 including a few brutes. I ended up taking a bigger bear than in 2011, but it was not even close to the biggest bear I saw. This wasn’t a case of ground shrinkage after the shot. When my 2011 bear came out, part of my brain knew it wasn’t the biggest bear in the woods, but some other part of my brain just assumed that should be when I should see a big bear.

Much like my first bear hunt two years previous, I was thrilled. The coat on this boar was deep black, thick and luxurious. I had a perfect spot picked out for the rug before returning home.

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2014 brought me once again to the Manitoba wilderness. There were five of us hunting bears and two along for the fishing, including my friend Dennis, an avid fisherman. The hunting started out a little slow, but a few days in things changed quickly, as they can while hunting. The first bear came out early in the afternoon. I could tell it was a very good bear immediately but held off since it was so early. I looked at the bear and thought back to my first bear in 2009. Like that bear, this bear had the tapered head and the uncanny ability to quietly walk, seemingly above the forest floor. No, this was a sow and was not the bear to take. After quite some time in front of me, she crouched down like a worried dog, looked in the direction she came from and bolted out of the area, running almost underneath me.

The second bear came in immediately after this. He walked boldly in after smelling the area. He was shorter than the first bear but much bulkier. I thought back to my 2011 hunt and this bear had the same blocky head and confident demeanor. The part of my brain that told me to shoot in 2011 was overridden by another part, telling me it was early. This was not my bear either.

I had several hours to rethink my decision not to take that second bear as thunderstorms began to build. It got later and the sky grew darker, a foreboding that made me glad for waterproof hunting gear. A third bear entered the clearing. This was a different bruin. He towered over the first two I had seen. Even sitting there with a firearm, it felt somewhat intimidating being so close to such an immense bear. It felt like he was looking right through me, and didn’t seem as interested in the bait as the lingering scent of the first two bears.

The bear bolted at the shot and the skies unleashed a torrent of water as the thunderstorm passed over. With the rain having washed away any potential of a blood trail, I looked for my bear in the remaining daylight. After a few false starts and a warning in the form of a guttural woof-woof from another bear in the area, I found him only a short distance from the clearing. My shot had been about as good as possible under field conditions.

I looked at my third bear, his thick black hide and huge paws, and waited to meet my guides for the difficult task of getting the animal out of the rough Manitoba brush. I briefly thought that I had just proved the adage: The Third Time’s a Charm.

But this is wrong. My first bear hunt was my first bear hunt, meeting a great group of guys and I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything. My second bear hunt allowed me to see many more bears and take a boar while experiencing some of the best fishing of my life. This third hunt had me again hunting with a great group of people, sharing the experiences and making new friends. And I had just taken a truly remarkable bear.

The third time may be a charm for some, but I’m three times charmed.