Ghost Dog wrote:Can you personally sign my copy????
Maybe a little to soon, but good luck!!!
Well, just to follow up, Bernie Barringer of Bear Hunting magazine replied back to me: "I can’t make this one work, but here are the writer’s guidelines for future reference." And attached a .pdf file of the guidelines. I scanned through them to see what I could have done better, but nothing stood out.
For the curious, here is the more detailed version I sent in:
The first time you ever hunt, is exciting in a way that nothing else can match. The anticipation, the unexpected, the learning, the experience, no matter what happens, it's a trip of a lifetime.
I walk into the sporting goods store and tell them it's my first time, "can you walk me through the forms I need to fill out?" The kid behind the counter asks for my hunter safety card and drivers license. He takes those and starts pressing icon buttons on his touch screen. I answer his questions for zone and wanting a deer tag.
He starts pushing the same button over and over and says "it won't let me give you a deer tag ... it will let me give you a bear tag, but something must be wrong with my deer button". Chuckling, I say "isn't that backward? This is California. Don't they protect the bears more than people?" I took the bear tag as I envisioned shooting the biggest bear I ever saw at unimaginable distance.
Not having enough seniority at work, my vacation fell on the final week of a 2 month hunting season here. We arrived in the Mendocino National Forest to set up camp with enough time for an evening hunt. I pulled on my Hardwoods HD clothing and backpack, clipped the Garmin Rino 530HCx GPS/Radio to a pack strap, slipped the Steiner C5 Predator 10x40 binoculars around my neck, loaded "Thumper's" 5 round factory magazine with Hornady .450 Bushmaster factory ammo, and checked the lenses of the Zeiss 3-9x40 scope. I don't make a lot of money. It has taken years of saving, and carefully watching sales and specials to assemble my gear.
The uninitiated imagine the forest as peacefully soundless. When you hunt this wilderness, it is nothing like that. The forest floor is covered with twig debris that cracks like rifle shots with each of my misplaced steps. Squirrels defiantly bark at my approach. Ravens take flight and cry out. I freeze in place, positive a bear must have heard the alarm. Will it charge, or slip away undetected? I jerk at my binoculars, and visually drill through the forest. Intently I scan, searching, and take a step, SNAP! I just stepped on another twig. I feel betrayed by my own feet.
I take a deep breath, and settle my resolve. There are 3 things I have to do. I must be quiet, watch what direction I am going, and watch for bear to shoot. The best this beginner can do is two out of three, but I am determined to improve.
Over the next 5 days we followed trails, tracks, and bear scat, through tree cover thick enough that visibility was usually 20-30 feet ... not yards, feet. In cover like this, any bear definitely had the advantage, but I had "Thumper", and my determination.
Occasionally we found a small clearing of trees filled with vegetation, and a trickle of creek water. We would set up to watch for activity. With the wind in my face, and sun at my back, I scanned the tree line and held "Thumper" at the ready. As the sun set and the circle of darkness constricts, every shadow is a bear. Every shadow must be scrutinized with the binoculars, but slowly so as not to give yourself away. Nothing.
We hunted morning and evening, but beginners luck was not to visit me. The area had already been hunted heavily for 2 months. All of the bear scat was dark, and the tracks were not fresh. Most likely all of the bears had moved far out of range, into an area where the season had already closed.
In summary, I didn't see the biggest bear I never shot at infinite distance. It was the trip of a lifetime.
By Bill Wrigley