Usually, in the spring I’ll have one bear that enters my yard, tries to cause some chaos and after a warning - leaves, never to return. Every year it’s a different bear, we fire a shot into a tree near them, and they get the memo and go. The first time it happened, it got itself stuck in the chicken pen and eventually found its way out in a panic taking the cover netting with it.
The second time, on the second spring, it was a cinnamon-coloured bear. I woke up, rolled over in bed and looked out the window to see it sitting there looking things over on my porch. It ran off at the sight of me and never returned.
Many years ago, a woman was killed at my work by a black bear, and since that day, I panic more than I’d like when I see one. Every year it happens the same, and I react with more panic than I’d like to. I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of them, but they definitely make the blood rush to my face. Rightly so, I’d say.
The Exception
A couple of seasons ago in the fall, a smaller black bear came into my yard. It was eating berries uphill from the house. Too close for comfort, Curt fired a shot into a stump, and he ran off. Presuming that was that - Curt left for the city the following morning.
After he left, I was feeding the chickens when I heard a rustling only 25 yards away. I watched the bushes for a moment until I saw, the same bear! Eating berries within eyeshot of the chicken coop. I ran to the house with my heart in my throat and grabbed the rifle.
I carefully walked back to the chicken pen and to my surprise, the bear hadn’t been spooked by me at all. He sat, eating berries. It was both cute and unnerving to watch him so close. At that moment, it crossed my mind that if he decided I looked tasty and the gun failed - that would be it for me. I had no backup.
The Missed Shot
Every year I get a bear hunting tag, not because I intend to actively hunt and shoot one but in case of this very situation. A bear that comes back is a problem and this one was undoubtedly scoping out my chickens. I didn’t really want to kill it because, as any hunter knows - that’s when the work starts. I waited and took aim, right for the heart and fired. He ran off! Could I have missed at such close range?
I checked where it was and looked around for it. Prime tick season, I tucked my pants into my socks and proceeded to crash around. No blood, no fur. I’d missed by a mile. Good, I thought, he certainly won’t be back now. I went on with my day, quietly weighing rabbits in the shade.
Weighing Rabbits
I like to weigh the bunnies to keep track of how they’re progressing and to decide which ones to keep for future breeding. For good measure, I put two rifles onto the deck near where I was working. I’d be surprised if the bear came back, but if it did I would use the other rifle since something was amiss with the original one.
Not even an hour after I’d fired the warning shot, as I stood next to the house holding a rabbit on the scale, there he was again. Walking uphill from the house among some berries. Bears have a creepy way of side-eyeing you with their little eyes in a bigger head. This guy definitely knew I was there. I was starting to think it wasn’t my chickens he was scoping out.
I took a breath, put the bunny onto the deck and picked up the backup rifle.
I took aim as he meandered in his nonchalant way, only 50 feet away. I fired and saw the ripple of an impact on his fur. It looked like a good hit however he ran, and I fired once more as he headed for the big trees. I waited a moment to collect myself and make sure the rifle still had some shots in the magazine before following him into the woods.
Only a few paces into the tall trees he’d lay on his back for his final rest. Anger swelled in me. I didn’t want to kill him, and I was mad about it. You dead? I asked the bear and poked it in the face with the barrel of the rifle. I watched its chest for breathing, nothing. Good. I thought and went back to the house to clip my tag, collect myself and ready for butchery.
Hauling that animal out of the woods by myself wasn’t easy, and I was thankful to be going downhill. Once home and most of the work was done I looked at the meat I’d procured and thought to myself,
“That’s one BIG rabbit”
You should not lose subscribers for that. You’re living a life that was the way of life before the modern shit show took over. In your situation you gotta do what you gotta do. Mad respect.
Those unsubscribers are in the grocery store right now not giving a single thought to where their fucking steak came from.
Good story and good decision to pop that one off. It's the ones that lurk around showing no fear that are the most likely to be predatory on humans, and often as not it may be a smallish one, though i don't doubt you already know this stuff. We had a huge black bear killed $1200 worth of meat chickens ate some, left others, and came back two nights later. It was pitch black and snowing, i could hear him trying to pull the shelters apart, i fired some shots into the air, then chased in his tracks in the truck and honked the horn at the bushline. I expected he would come back again, but my ol' bear guide neighbor said he won't come back and when i asked how he was so sure he said "he didn't get that big by being stupid." He was right, never came back.