Mopping Up Wounded Bear Problems

Some untimely business was keeping me indoors today, and that is never a good thing. I wanted to relish the cool temperatures and puffy wind.

I spent a few hours looking through an old pile of Outdoor Life magazines from the decade when I wrote stories on a regular basis for them. One article was about a grizzly bear attack I'd covered for the magazine.

The subject was a wildlife biologist who had most of his face chewed or ripped off by a grizzly bear, and who lived to tell me the story. The magazine flew me to a Salt Lake City hospital where the interview took place.

Massive injuries inflicted in grizzly bear attack

He lost one eye, his nose and one ear, and the bear literally ripped his face and scalp off. He'd had over 1,000 stitches when I did the interview, and had more plastic surgeries scheduled. He had bite marks elsewhere on his body.

Recalling that story got me to thinking about the number of black bears I've killed while mopping up a messy job of shooting by other hunters. Years ago, when bear hunting meant going into a sporting goods store and buying a license. There was no need for a lottery draw in those days. You bought a license and went hunting.

One incident was a bruin that had been shot in the hip with a .44 Magnum by another hunter, and the bullet broke the leg bone. The hunter was frightened and asked if I'd help. I said I would if he agreed to stay behind so I didn't have to listed to his nervous jabbering. I didn't want him near me if I had to shoot fast.

 He agreed, and I went after the bear with a 3-inch magnum 12 gauge shotgun stoked with five No. 4 buckshot. I saw the bear at 40 yards, and hit him with the first shot. He went down, got up, came running toward me, and four more shots were taken with the last one being at six feet. That last shot finally killed the animal.

Reading old accounts of African leopard and lion attacks

I'd read stories in outdoor magazines as a kid about African hunters shooting a leopard or lion, and then having to dig them out of thick cover and kill them at close range. This was pretty heady business for me, knowing full well I'd never go to Africa. I'd have to settle for killing wounded bears that other people had severely injured.

Another bear led me on a two-day hunt that covered a small swamp bordered on one side by a tiny creek and a two-track trail on two other sides. I had lost the blood trail but later found where the bear had bedded down three times. Finally a drop of blood was found near the creek. I followed it slowly up a steep hill.

The shotgun preceded me, and bent blades of grass pointed out the path taken by the bruin. I'd just topped the hill when I spotted the bear three feet away. It moved and I shot, and that mess was cleaned up and done with.

Bears have provided me with some hair-raising thrills down through the years. People talk about brown bears, grizzlies and polar bears, but more people are attacked by black bears each year than many people would believe. Black bears are most common, and I've had some very close encounters when armed and unarmed, and it's a thrill most people would prefer to live without.

Only once did I go after a wounded bear with another person, and it was a friend whose skills were legendary and a man I trust. We got that bear, but every other time I've done it was alone. And that was the way I preferred to tackle these hairy situations.

My preference was to do the job alone

Frightened people talk, make noise, and generally get in other people's way when some serious work must be done. Wounded bears often are shot at close range in thick cover, and I didn't want anyone nearby for fear they would create a greater hazard than already existed.

I'd move slowly if the going was tough, stopping often and looking around as I followed the blood trail. Of the six wounded bears I've dispatched, none had injuries that would have been immediately fatal. All animals were moving, and often the dirty work was done within an hour of dark. It meant moving fast and quiet, getting close enough to the animal for a deadly shot. Of those six, only the one noted above required more than one shot.

It isn't something I'd do now because my vision is so poor. Back in those days in the early and mid-1970s, I could see well and there was a major adrenalin rush when the wounded animal was first spotted. Then it means staying downwind and trying to get close to the animal without spooking it.

Doing this nasty business was not fun but whenever I went after a bear it was because the hunter couldn't or wouldn't do it. It meant putting an animal out of its misery as quickly as possible. I never advertised my services, never went looking for this kind of work, but for many years I always seemed to be in the area where bears were being hunted and some were being wounded.

I did it because someone had to. Otherwise, a frightened hunter may walk away from the problem or wait until the next day and not be able to find the bruin.

Memories like a recurring bad dream

This string of memories came back to me like a recurring nightmare. This wasn't Africa and it wasn't a wounded leopard or lion at the end of a blood trail, but they were wounded and potentially dangerous animals that had to be put down before they were lost or lived long enough to become a danger to someone else.

It wasn't fun but cleaning up someone elses mess offered some hair-raising adventures. And trust me, those were hunting moments I'll never forget.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors