Bear Hunt

Friday was a work day rather than a school day and since I don’t really want to dwell on that…..

The old fart (a.k.a. husband Carl) and I headed up into the hills of Silverdale on a bear hunt.  After travelling around to all the normal haunts and coming up empty, we went to check out a new spot.  Four-wheeling it up to the top of the hill, we caught sight of a pair of eyes peeking at us from over the edge of the rise. 

As we reached the summit, we were just in time to see two large, black bottoms bumble their way back into the bush.  A third managed to squeeze his or her backside through the strands of a barbed wire fence on its way back into the brush. Knowing how curious they really are and that they would be back, Carl parked the truck in the centre of a flat section and I climbed out and onto the Knaack box (a large tool box that fits in the bed of a pick-up).

After a few minutes, the first bear we had seen couldn’t resist standing up to see what was going on.  Moving as slowly as I could, as quickly as I could, I did manage to pull off a couple of shots before he dropped.  Soon after, I heard branches snap near the barbed wire fence.  One thing you can always count on from any number of critters is that they’re nosy.  They’ll always take a second look to see what’s going on.  Sure enough, one eye, ear and brown nose peeped out from under the shrubs along the fence line and I was able to pull off another shot.

Not wanting to disturb them any longer, we decide to change locations. Carl hopped back into the truck, fired it up and we headed over to the next field with me still perched on the back of the toolbox.   What little track there was soon petered out and turned into a series of deep mud and water filled ruts.  As I clung to the ladder racks, Carl managed to zigzag through without sending me flying over the side of the hill.

A fifth bear stood chest deep in the uncut grass, nibbling here and there, as if sampling the best eating spot.  He was less than concerned with us and continued his snacking.  Every now and again, he'd pop up on two legs to make sure I wasn't moving.  Carl, on the other hand, had been walking across the field at a ninety degree angle from me.   He planned to get behind our diner and start him moving in my direction.

All of a sudden, Carl stopped dead.  I hopped down from the back of the truck and headed in his direction at the same time he turned and started moving back towards me.  We met in the middle and he told me that he felt something watching him. When he turned to look, there was not only a sow standing on her back legs, but one of the largest boars he’d seen in a while.  The sow took off pretty quickly and eventually the old boar turned himself around and waddled off in the same direction.

“If it wasn’t for the ears” Carl says, “I’d think it was a Christmas tree.  That fat old bugger must have been six feet around that butt of his.”

Oh, by the way, the shots turned out great.