Adventures in Bear Country: Part Three
This is part three of our bear hunt in Alaska. If you missed part two you can get caught up in a hurry here. Also, a heads up for our readers: This post contains photos of field care, so there is blood. It’s part of life and certainly part of hunting, but we felt it was worth letting you know before you scroll down.
When I pulled the trigger, I lost sight of the bear in my scope.
“Dead bear,” came the immediate assessment from Edgar. He’d watched the boar crumple to the ground.
But seconds later, the bear got to his feet and was rushing to the tree line. I had chambered another round, but Edgar was faster, and followed up with another shot. He walked toward the trees and motioned for me to stay back. Minutes later I heard another shot, and then Edgar waved me forward.
“It’s a big bear.”
When we walked up on the bear, I was in awe. This was a huge black bear, much bigger than I expected. I felt so many emotions all at once. I felt a little sad, but also in shock. I had thought about this hunt for so long, and had taken a long time to determine that I wanted to shoot a bear. I also knew I might cry when I did, or feel intense regret. But I didn’t. It’s hard to put into words everything I was feeling. But the best way to describe it is, I loved this bear. I know how that sounds. I just put him down, but he was an incredible animal and I loved him.
We dragged him into a clearing and got to work. It was nearing ten o’clock at night, but we still had light for another hour, and needed to make the best of it. We dressed him out there in the field, being careful to take all the meat that would be good to eat, and cutting the hide away.
With the bear dissected in front of us, we could see that my first shot went into his neck, traveled diagonally through his body and exited out the opposite thigh. It would have killed him, but big bears don’t die easily, and I didn’t want him to suffer, so I’m glad Edgar was there with the follow up.
It took three hours to get the meat into bags and pack the bear to the boat. Captain Scott and first mate Dave had been anchored off a short distance away, and watched all the action, but they couldn’t tell how the land dipped so they were puzzled as to why we didn’t shoot the bear from that first downed tree. We told the story and stayed up a little while, walking them through it. Then we tied the meat bags to the railing on the stern, had seconds on fish dinner, and climbed into bed.
In the morning, after coffee and a quick breakfast, it was Edgar’s turn to find a big boar, and he had one in mind. We hopped in the skiff and zoomed over to the beach where we’d spotted the cinnamon bear the day before. We got out quietly and crept over to the clearing. The cinnamon bear wasn’t around, but another bear was. From that distance we could tell he was a shooter… big and furry, and not looking in our direction.
We moved in a little closer and paused behind some tree cover. Still there. We closed in a little more, and I put my fingers in my ears as Edgar took aim. One shot and the bear was down.
He was beautiful… all black with a brown heart on his chest. He was already in a clearing so we got to work, dressing out our second bear in less than twelve hours. This time it took two hours to pack up meat bags and skin the hide. Then we let Captain Scott know we were ready for pick up.
On the way back to Seward we stopped for a little more fishing. I brought up my first ever halibut, and Edgar caught some beautiful yelloweye rockfish.
We also caught a lingcod that matched perfectly with my outfit, but he was not a size we could keep.
Back in Anchorage, we went shopping for a grinder, vacuum sealer and smaller freezer bags and got to work in Edgar’s garage. (We figured getting all those supplies beforehand would be presumptuous.) Edgar cut the bear meat into strips, and I worked the grinder, mixing the lean bear with some pork sausage, then bagging it and marking it for the freezer.
How much meat do you get from two Alaskan black bears? We processed meat for 17 hours.
I’m writing this recap a couple weeks after the hunt, and I’m realizing how the hunt isn’t over when the trip ends. I’ve brought meat home… meat that I’ve harvested myself. My freezer is full, and so are my neighbors. They came over for bear chili and asked for seconds. My coworkers all asked to try some, and they’re organizing a potluck where we all bring in something we’ve cooked with the meat. I’ve told the story of the bear, and I’ve shared photos. I’ve thought a lot about this bear’s legacy, and I don’t take any of it lightly. I will forever be thankful for this trip, the Alaskan wilderness and my bear.
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