My DIY Bear Hunt

My DIY Bear Hunt

by Andrew Dumond

During the 2022 season I found myself in need of a new adventure. There were problems at work, problems with health in the family, a variety of reasons for the need to accomplish something new, something to keep the demons at bay. I turned my attention to the last big game animal in Maine that I had yet to harvest, the Maine black bear. My focus became clear and I was driven in my pursuit. I had done some previous groundwork and suspected that this hunt might be in my future. Not only would I have a hunting license but I secured one to trap as well. In my reasoning this was insurance towards being successful. I wanted my first bear, in fact, I may very well have needed it.

Working with the Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife I was selected for a bear site in state managed public land. Perhaps the most nerve wracking and frustrating portion was selecting the actual bait site location. I spent many summer days wandering about the zone I was approved for, scouring for any signs , and assessing each space. Finally I settled on my spot for the season. Well out of the way, yet reasonably accessible, and most importantly, legal to all of Maine’s baiting laws. Set back the proper distance from any roadway I located a small basin that held water year round. Several game trails crisscrossed the area giving the impression that the spot was used by many creatures. My hope was that one might be a bear.

I set game cameras in the area hoping for the best. By law it was too early to begin placing food but I was still hoping for some encouragement. Even a little video would be a good start. We were now in the month of August and into some very warm weather. No bear on camera. Very little wildlife, an occasional deer or squirrel, plenty of flying insects, but no bear. Still I held out hope and prepared for the start of the baiting season.

When opening day arrived I was ready bright and early. I had a converted wooden crate to house my bait, gallons of popped corn, cake frosting, used cooking oil, and homemade scent. I was about to lay a buffet for my guest. Rosco, my faithful Black and Tan Coonhound, and I jumped into the truck just before dawn and set out for our first bear season. Nearly thirty minutes from home we turned off the pavement. The telltale vibration and crunch of gravel meant we were getting close. Rosco sat up knowing that it would not be long before we were out and off.

I can still picture the early morning fog rising among the pitch pines. The dew sparkled on the shrubby underbrush. Rays of sunlight shot through the gaps in the looming trees. Birds chirped as they awoke and began calling to signal the new day. The air was fresh and cool as if somehow the previous night had washed away the remnants of our daily lives. I drove as slow as possible. Moments like these should be treasured. The truck crawled along and a random branch struck its sides. The road narrowed as we continued deeper into the woods and the area became less frequented. Finally we entered a small clearing that would mark the end of the passable road. What a great morning ride.

Now the work would really begin. First out was the black polyethylene jet sled that would pull all the required gear for the rest of the trip. Next out was the heavy wooden crate. It was here that I regretted not just using an empty 55 gallon plastic drum. The weight was more than I cared for but was still manageable. After lashing the sled and crate together I strapped down the bags of popcorn, thankfully lightweight, and a few odds and ends. My tools were preloaded in my Loring pack basket. It forced out a groan as I shouldered the load. I finished by hooking Rosco to the sled in hopes of a little hauling help. There was enough daylight now that headlamps were not necessary and we began the trek to the site.

It didn’t take long, perhaps twenty minutes, to pull the load to the required spot. They were a hard twenty minutes though. I knew I was leaving scent and I fought the urge to sweat profusely over everything. I knew I couldn’t help but to leave my scent but I was hoping to mask it with everything in my arsenal. The first task was to unload my bait crate and get it set into place. Here I strapped it to the base of the tree so that it could not be dragged away as bears are prone to do. Next I filled it with popcorn, a cheap and easy bait source that also can not be taken away to be consumed elsewhere. Finally I doused the area in my own attractants. I had a large squirt bottle that I used to send the aromatic concoction everywhere. I bent over saplings, soaked the tops, and let the bent hardwoods snap free, spraying cover scent throughout the perimeter. I continued to do this along my backtrack for a good long while. Instead of trying to hide the fact that I was present in the forest I was instead lighting up the “Open All Night” neon diner sign.

And that was it. Rosco and I hauled a much lighter load back out to the truck and away we went. We would check on the site every few days. Now was the period where we could place bait to entice bears to the area however it was still not open season to harvest one. We would have several weeks before we could take up the chase. In the meantime we checked SD cards full of video and images from our site. Over these weeks we managed to attract a small army of porcupines and racoons who spent many humorous hours battling it out for domination of the bait crate. Still no bear. Time wore on and the next phase of the mission was soon to begin.

Another early morning ride found Rosco and I at our site. By now we had a well worn path to follow and the traffic from the nightly raids had opened the gametrails to and from considerably. Today we were allowed to add a snare to our efforts. The particular device came from a local bear expert and I was anxious to put it into action. A nearly two foot hole needed to be dug through the rocky earth and tangled tree roots. Next was to insert the round PVC section of pipe that would house the snare into the ground and bury it solidly. A bear can easily dig up a snare to evade or escape capture. Finally the steel cable snare was laid properly into the device and chained to a nearby tree. Once last ooey, gooey pastry placed down inside the pipe and the set was ready to go. Once a bear reached in for the treat the snare would be sprung and the animal secured to the tree awaiting my return. At least in theory. Again we left the site in hopes that our return would find success.

A week or more and still no sign of a bear. We continued to re-bait and re-scent as each evening the woodland creatures lay waste to our endeavors. One random morning I trudged through the humidity to our little spot. It was hot and Rosco was content to remain in the truck and sit this one out. I couldn’t blame him and I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with me that I placed myself in such difficult situations. Was all this really worth it? As I approached the site once again, I saw no bear awaiting me. I did notice that the large rock that covered the PVC pipe entrance had been moved exposing the snare. I figured that the raccoons had finally banded together and as a team were able to rob my set. Stepping even closer I saw the steel cable laid out across the ground. The bait inside the set was gone. At least I would get a show as I removed the SD card from the trail camera overseeing the snare. How many racoons would it take and how did they get it done? I slid the chip card inside the portable viewer I carried in my pack basket. The image loaded and the video began to roll. I can remember the jolt that shot through my body as I watched a respectable bear approach the bait crate and rise to stand over it, its snout constantly working, much the same way Rosco works at following scent. It completely ignored the popcorn in the crate and dropped to the ground. Waddling over to the rock it was able to flip the snare free effortlessly. I was unable to see how it evaded the steel cable when released, but it did. Moments later the bear stole the morsels and wandered away freely. My chance had passed. My heart sank. I was so close yet so far away. I sighed and went about the business of resetting the site. I would not be defeated.

I continued to check the trap every morning as is required by law. A week passed and I did not see any evidence that my quarry had returned. Perhaps I had educated him enough and he would not. It was entirely possible. Doubts and insecurities arose. Did I miss what would amount to my only chance? Still I continued to work.

Another beautiful morning found Rosco and I making our daily rounds. It was an early Saturday morning and I wanted to address the bear station as quickly as possible before the weekend warriors began recreating. We crawled along the gravel roadways that created a small maze in this protected area. As we crept through another intersection I turned my head to the left to gaze down the adjacent road. THERE WAS A BEAR!!! Standing in the road looking in my direction. My heart nearly burst through my chest as the largest shot of adrenaline I have had in a very long time shot through my body. I drove on as if I had not seen the animal and continued through the junction. Several dozen yards down the road I rolled to a halt. That bear was headed my way and showed absolutely no sign of fear. My gut told me that it would continue on its path as long as I played my cards correctly. I left the truck idling as I snuck out of the vehicle. I quietly closed the door and left the oblivious Rosco sitting in the passenger’s seat. I crouched, turned, and hustled down the length of my truck all the while pumping rounds into my lever action 45-70 rifle.

Before I could get into position the bear entered the opening. It was at a slow trot but I could already tell that I would not have time to shoulder the rifle, take careful aim, and squeeze off a shot. There simply would not be enough time. Dropping to one knee I did the only thing I could think of. I screamed “HEEEYYYY” at the top of my lungs and raised the rifle. The bear paused broadside in the road and turned its head to regard me. I had now picked it up through the scope and was settling the crosshairs. I did not rush and forced myself to control my breathing. As the bear turned its head away I could see the shoulders flex as it started forward once again. A single shot shattered the peaceful woodland setting and I knew I had just accomplished what I had set out to do. The animal did not suffer, the kill was immediate and humane. This is something I take great pride in as I grow older.

I couldn’t believe it. After all that work, after all that worry, it was now over. Everything I had been working for was complete. I approached surely but carefully. The animal was not that large, far short of a trophy. I was happy to discover that it was a young male, a good bear to harvest and not hurt population efforts. It also explained the bear’s behavior. He had probably recently been left by mom to fend for himself as she started a new family. Such is the way of nature. His inexperience worked to my advantage.

Everything was far too convenient. I decided I would not field dress the animal there, instead I loaded the bear into the back of the truck and headed directly for home. Here I could hang my harvest in the shade and work carefully and diligently. I made use of the meat, the hide, the claws, and the skull. I was able to butcher the best meat for ourselves and set aside a healthy portion for Rosco’s meals. I spent the next several days working the hide to preserve the fur. My wife helped to meticulously clean the claws. The skull was set outside to begin a future wall mount project. We made every effort to utilize as much of my success as possible. I was taught it is the respectful and responsible thing to do.

The remainder of that day and that season were bitter sweet. I was ecstatic that I had been successful but I found myself missing my daily morning ride through the woods. The sights, scents, sounds, and feelings were absent and that was somehow a sad feeling. My time in the woods was never in waste, even on those days when I was so consumed that I was not appreciating the world around me. That was what I was looking for when I took up this quest, the escape, the release. You see, for me this was not about a bear or a hunt or a challenge. At this point of my life we were battling a cancer diagnosis for my son. He had recently been diagnosed with lymphoma and we were in the early stages of surgery and treatment. These days in the field allowed me to escape, to find natural therapy, a place to cry and a place to laugh. My goal may have been to harvest a bear but my mission was to retain my sanity.?

Thankfully I found both.