Montana Spring Bear
In past years during archery season, I always carried an over the counter black bear tag in my pocket, just in case I ran into a bear. Although, I never fully set my intentions on pursuing black bear as my elk tag was always more exhilarating, but with the population growing, and considering how many times I bumped into them, I always figured why not. In February of 2020 while I was cruising around with my two buddies, looking for cues deer in Arizona, I got a message from a new acquaintance, Chris. Chris had previously traveled to Steamboat Springs to document a waterfowl hunt with the ladies of Rocky Mountain Sportswomen. As a fellow photographer we instantly clicked as I picked Chris’s brain on photography and the sweet gigs he currently had. A start to a new friendship had been sparked.
The weather to the north brought an ominous feeling to the trip, as we turned onto highway 13. With the truck packed full of camera gear, guns, camping gear and hunting clothes we joked about the weather and hoped we’d drive through it and end up in the sunshine. As we climbed in elevation the clouds hung low on the rugged rocky mountains reveling a fresh snow line about halfway down. We settled into our seats and braced for the weather ahead. And braced we did, as we came over the pass and the inch of sleet on the road caused us to start fishtailing. Completely loosing control, we suddenly were going backwards and veering into the east bound lane, towards the field. “Don’t touch the breaks” I tell Chris and just like that, the side of the road sucked us in, as we barreled through the barbwire fence, spinning back around, coming to a stop in some farmers field. “I think this hunting trip is doomed” Chris says, his hands shaking. The sleet was hammering down now as the windows started to fog up from our heavy breathing. We take a moment to gather ourselves and proceed to check out the damage. The fencing was completely wrapped up around the hitch and the drivers side runner board, along with a small dent on the drivers door. I sigh in relief and tell Chris “our guardian angles were with us on that one”. A few moments later a local police man pulls up, red and blue lights flashing. After processing Chris’s license and registration, Tom grabs his pliers from his car and goes to work freeing the fencing from the runner board. “Pull forward and crank your steering wheel to the left” Tom instructs Chris. And just like that we are free from the fencing, and the truck is running just fine. In just 40 minuets time we are back on the road again, shaking our heads in disbelief of what just happened and how lucky we were to be okay.
Big, snow covered mountains bring a intimidating backdrop to the prairies of Red Lodge, Montana. Leaning forward I grab the Jesus handle, and my nose is nearly touching the windshield as I look out in awe of the beauty in front of us. Images of black and grizzly bears fill my imagination as I daydream of our next five days. I instantly fall in love with this small town and all its feels. Grabbing some coffee and lunch we check into our hotel, pack the essentials in the backseat and head out towards a waypoint we marked on our OnX maps. Time to find us a black bear.
There’s no other word other then big to describe the mountains of Montana. They make you feel small and feminine as they fill your mind with wonder. We pull the truck up to a field of sage, putting it in park we jump out, binoculars in hand as we eagerly get to work picking apart the rolling hills highlighted with dark timber. “This looks like bear country” we tell each other, as the bitter cold wind forces us to put on our puffy jackets. Taking another look at our maps we are slightly discouraged by the amount of private land surrounding what we are looking at and decide to head to another waypoint to glass for the evening.
As the guide and the hunter, I found the responsibility to find a bear weighing on my shoulders. Chris is new to hunting and his focus was to document the hunt and the product of henry rifles. Not having much knowledge in hunting bears, I looked at this hunt as if I was hunting elk. When I’m doing so, I simply think as if I were an elk, what would I be eating, where would I be sleeping, etc. It can’t be any different with bears I tell myself, but with our filming permit and private land combined, we are limited to the amount of land we are able to hunt. As the five days go by we work as a team, putting all our thoughts and ideas in a basket and try and decipher which one would most likely bring us success. Our gut told us to head back to the first area we glassed upon arriving. Up we go, as we kick up rocks and dirt, we head to a vantage point to glass, in hopes of spotting a bear. After a few hours of coming up empty handed we work the ridge line to a new vantage point and stumble upon more private land. Skirting around the fence line we cross a stream and are met by a crew on horseback. Talking with them a bit we ask if they’ve seen any sign or bears in the area recently, their response is “apparently the grizzlies have pushed out the black bears in this area”. Discouraged, we shed a layer as we decide to hike out and check out a new spot. Just as my breathing becomes heavy, as we pick our way through a small aspen grove, a fresh pile of bear scat stops me dead in my tracks, tapping it with the toe of my boot it squishes, only hours old. As we hit the old dirt road there are fresh bear tracks headed towards the creek. Just what the doctor ordered, a little hope and excitement.
That evening we post up on a grassy ridge line overlooking several timber patches, with the creek behind us, the 45-70 just at an arms reach away, hoping this bear will come out before dark and present us with a shot. We wait and wait and nothing, as day turns to night we head towards the truck planning to return to this spot in the morning.
Our plan for the day is to play the patience card as we sit behind our glass and search for any movement in the timber and little pockets of distant fields. The afternoon sun is warm and I imagine he’s curled up in the shade taking a nap, but if he gets up for a drink of water, we’ll see him move through. Conversations on life and experiences flow between Chris and I like we’ve know each other for years, two old buddies hanging out on a ridge top, killing time, surrounded my the sounds of nature. As the afternoon turns to evening and the shadows get longer, elk and deer start to appear as they feed about. Anticipation fills our souls and my feet start to fall asleep as I’ve been sitting on the same position for hours, looking through my spotting scope. I get up to move around and get the blood flowing when I see a bear 500 yards below us, right where we were sitting the night before. He’s jet black and has a shine to his coat. Unfortunately the 45-70 has a range only up to 200 yards, so we know we need to close the distance. As he munches on grass we move down the ridge, putting the trees between him and us, hoping to get within 200 yards to take a shot. The boar stands up looking away from us down into the creek bottom, giving us a great visual on the size of his massive body. Chris and I look like two ninjas armed with a gun and camera as we scurry down the hill, and just as we get to 300 yards, he drops back down into the creek bottom, disappearing out of sight. Hoping he’ll reappear we settle next to a tree, 250 yards away from where we saw him last. With limited light left we drop down and get on the same ridge we saw the bear. Looking down into the creek bottom, and the vegetation and cover it offers, the chances of this boar coming back into the open is minimal. At this point we question do we sit and wait, or do we go after him, into the thick of it all? We slowly work the ridge pausing to listen and watch where the clearings present themselves. Once again day turns to night and unable to turn up the bear we head to town for dinner and a beer.
Flowers of pink, purple and yellow surround us on the grassy ridge line as we patiently wait for mr.bear to show himself. This hunt in particular has tested just how patient can we be. We’ve only seen one bear so far and I’m choosing to look at it just as I do elk hunting. You don’t leave elk to find elk, and you don’t leave a bear to find a bear. But as the hours pass by, my thoughts race in my mind on if we are making the right move waiting this bear out. To say there aren’t obstacles is a straight up lie, as tomorrow starts the weekend and it shows as trucks drive through and some even pull over to make camp. Mr. bear surely knows what’s going on and chooses to lay low until dark and I can’t help but feel our window for success is over.
As we sat over dinner we reminisced on the past week and despite not notching our tag we were filled with pride considering the challenges of hunting new country, along with a new species. In just five days we were able to find a bear, trusting the little knowledge we had. The amount of belly laughs and in depth, real life, conversations we shared warmed my heart as I had gained a new friendship, and mentor. No, we didn’t kill a bear but the memories made and the knowledge gained has helped shape us as better hunters and individuals.
