Sept. 23 – It has been seven days now since arriving at my recently acquired trap line in a remote area of the southeast Yukon. So far, all has gone well and I have accomplished a great deal. At approximately 8 p.m., my dogs Max and Shadow began barking and growling frantically, alerting me to the presence of something in the yard. Opening the cabin door, flashlight in hand, I was startled by presence of an enormous black bear walking boldly towards the cabin door eight meters away. I let a loud yell that I am sure my nearest neighbours 40 km away could hear. The bear bolted and quickly disappeared from view.
I retreated to the cabin and grabbed my 30-30 rifle. It was apparent that the bear had not been frightened off as the dogs continued their alarm. Stepping back outdoors, I could see that the dogs were focused on the trail leading out of the yard. Pointing my flashlight in that direction, I quickly picked up two eyes shining in the dark.
This was a very bold bear.Instead of running off, it had merely circled the camp and was coming right back in. I realized this bear had probably never seen a human before. The line had not been trapped in many years and is very remote and accessible only by aircraft. I have no reliable communications with the outside world. My satellite phone has proven to be of no use and somehow, the SBX-11 antenna got left behind. It will be mid-December before anyone even begins to think of looking for me. There is potential here for serious problems with this bear – breaking into the camp while I am out working on trail-brushing or an attack on the dogs or myself.
I quickly decided to shoot the bear.It was too dark to see the sights on my rifle. I pointed it to the clear night sky where I could see them. All I could see of the bear was its two eyes shining in the dark. When I fired, the eyes immediately disappeared. As my ears stopped ringing from the muzzle blast, I could hear a very faint cracking of twigs and a rustling sound in the bush about 12 metres from where the bear had been standing.
In a brief period of time, all sounds ceased and silence returned to the clearing. I interpreted this as a good sign, but was not about to go and investigate in the dark. The dogs had calmed right down and I returned to the cabin.
The remainder of the night was uneventful, but I kept the rifle loaded and right beside my bunk. At early light the following morning, I went to investigate. There had been a light dusting of snow sometime in the night. There was no blood or hair that I could see. Focusing my search in the area where I had last heard sound, I quickly located the bear, quite visible against the white snow, and obviously dead.
It was lying on its side. “Nice exit wound,” I thought, as I approached. It was a perfect and very lucky shot. The bear must have been standing broadside. I was unaware of this when I shot, as all I could see were its two eyes shining in the dark. The 170-grain bullet had passed through both lungs and the bear ran 12 metres before it fell. I remembered what an old hunting friend had told me years ago, “It is well-placed bullets and not big bangs that bring down game.”
Now that I have killed the bear, I am obliged to skin it! I had wanted nothing to do with bears. There are just so many other things to do prior to trapping season. As I was working on this bear, I realized that my decision to not take any chances and to dispatch it had been a wise one.
I was very aware as I skinned out the huge paws and massive forearms, that a human would have very little chance against a serious predatory attack of this size. The front pads on this bear measured 15 cm in width and the hide well over 2 metres nose to base of tail.
I spent over six hours skinning and fleshing the hide. The bear appeared to be in good health with a modest amount of body fat, but not as much as I would have expected. Definitely, a mature boar, but tooth wear suggested not really old. This was a very sobering experience for me. I realized how lucky a shot I had made and that in an aggressive, predatory attack; the 30-30 would be woefully inadequate.
For the next six weeks, I kept the 30-30 near at hand at all times. Next year, I plan on bringing a 12-gauge Remington 870 with slugs. Prior to this experience, there were many occasions when I was outside the camp at night, never armed and often, without my flashlight.
I still feel uneasy when I think what might have happened if my four-legged bear alarms had not alerted me.