# My Story of the 2004 Pennslyvania Black Bear Season



## Paul Anderson (May 20, 2005)

This article will soon be published and I will share more info about that in the near future. It is a long article. I did not try to make it long or short, I simply typed my account of it when I got home to include in my journal, I hope you enjoy it, I sure did.




We drove five hours from home when my brother Michael and I arrived at S.B. Elliot State Park at noon on Sunday, full of anticipation, hope, and uncertainty. The next morning would begin my thirteenth attempt to tag a Pennsylvania black bear. For each of those years I played to the whistle beginning at legal time on the Monday, and not giving up till within an hour of the end of legal shooting time on Wednesday the last day of the season. I have endured negative twenty-degree wind-chill, snowstorms, driving rain, underbrush so thick you cant put your foot on the ground, inclines so steep they require three wheel drive to go up, miles of hiking, and sore muscles that I didnt previously know that I had; and had come up empty. 

I am not alone in that category. After all, no one in our family hunting party has ever actually killed a bear. During the 2003 season 3,000 bears were harvested by the approximately 122,000 hunters who purchased bear tags for an approximate success rate of 1 in 41. Pennsylvania black bear season has been held on the three days prior to Thanksgiving for each year I have hunted. That gives you only about thirty hours per year with no dogs, guides, or bait allowed. However I believe in persistence and approach each season optimistically.

Usually our hunting party will go to a tag station on the evening of the first day of season, just to see some bears. There is usually a carnival like atmosphere there and everyone is always friendly. Years ago I had started taking my maps to the station and would copy the marks on the kill map. After doing so for several seasons, I had observed a pattern of consistent kills in one particular area. So in 2001 we started hunting in that region. About that same year, the tag station quit placing the maps out for the public to view. Too late I already had the pertinent data. 

I have at least two goals on the day before any given season. One is to check out some area that I have not previously looked at, and secondly to scout the immediate area that I plan on hunting the next morning. This year I had added a third goal of driving a loop around the area I was going to hunt. I had traveled on parts of the roads, but had never looked up on the mountain that I had switched to hunting at four seasons ago. I had traveled part way down the road, and part way up but not the section of it that was immediately below the area that I typically hiked several miles to reach from the upper road. Some inner confidence told me that I needed to verify that I could bring a dead bear down the slope to a section of road only previously viewed on a map.

After entering the park of the new area that I wanted to see we definitely needed 4WD when we passed the travel at your own risk sign. Deep ruts, big mud holes, and steep inclines were the norm. A quick stop on one of the roads revealed a tree protector lying at the entrance of a bear den. It was punctured and clawed in all directions and was definitely an exciting sign. This was bear country for sure. We passed all the way through the park having observed several other unique sights and some beautiful landscape. The first goal had been met.	










At that time I was wishing that I had filled the fuel tank, while in Dubois. With less than a quarter of a tank showing on the gauge, it was decision time. Knowing that there was a two-gallon emergency can in the bed of the truck; we turned further away from civilization. I would later regret that along with several other upcoming decisions.

When we arrived at the top of the road I had planed on traveling to the section below my hunting area, I was disappointed to see a sawhorse in the middle with a sheet of paper stapled on that said something like road closed and is impassable ahead due to flooding. When another truck came up the grade and rolled down his window I asked him how bad it was. He let me know there was no way to go through after you got past the bottom and that it was thoroughly devastated. We drove down the road to the bottom and up to the area where the creek had removed the road. After taking some pictures, I got my topography map out and realized that we were several miles away from reaching the section of road that I had hoped for.

We drove back to the top of the road and turned up the ridge road that I have been hunting from for the three previous seasons. I have always thought that if anyone in our hunting party were successful in that area, then we would bring the bear down the mountain to the lower road, rather than attempt to drag it back the two or more very rugged miles to the ridge road. Now that concept was in doubt, and I was flustered. I wasnt sure if I should hunt in a different area or should go in from the other end of the valley road to see if I could reach my desired location.

Three years ago I started hunting in this area, and began seeing signs of bear everywhere. Two years ago, I saw even more bear indications, including walking up on a steaming pile of dung, which certainly raised my awareness level. In 2003 it rained on Monday, but I finally got some fresh snow on Tuesday morning and it was truly eye opening. There were tracks going in all directions, all less than twelve hours old. I spotted three bears that day, and one the next, but didnt have any shot opportunities.

Remembering that is what guided my decision to travel to the other end of the valley road to see how far up it I could travel. When we got there, there was another sawhorse barricade saying road closed on a sheet of paper and a yellow ribbon tied across the road. I didnt want to risk getting into any trouble so we parked the truck and hiked a mile and a half up the road until I was convinced that if we were successful up on the mountain, then we could drive up to the toe of the slope and retrieve the bear. Another goal had been met, but there was no daylight left to attempt the goal of scouting for the next mornings hunt.

With the tank on empty I turned toward civilization. After driving for quite some distance, I was sure the truck would run dry any moment and require the spare can be put in. Just then, we came upon a small mom and pop gas station and our good luck had begun.

We joined up with dad and Uncle Tim in Dubois and went out to dinner. Next we stopped at a grocery store to stock up on lunch material for the upcoming days. Soon were checked into our hotel rooms and got to bed early.

Monday started at 4:30 am without an alarm clock since anticipation had us all ready to go. We headed to a restaurant for breakfast and left town at 5:30 am. An hour later we were finally parked at our spot. Within minutes we were all going our own directions with a rough idea of where each other would be located and some radios to maintain contact if necessary.

I hiked toward the area where I had first spotted bears last year. I slowly worked my way down into the head of the valley. This is some rugged territory with thick laurel, cypress, beautiful raging creeks, and rocks ranging from the size of my house down to small stones with every size in between. I continued along my chosen elevation rather than follow the water further down. I was moving for a short time then sitting for a short time. This technique allows for a consistent comfortable body temperature when dressed properly. It also affords me the opportunity to see some fascinating views of the landscape.










Around 10:00 a shot rang out within a relatively short distance of me. Adrenaline flowed through my body for the first time that day. I moved about ten yards to a better vantage point. Waiting patiently and tuned for the slightest sound or motion, I sat there. Movement in the brush several hundred yards down made my heart beat faster. I waited and watched for several minutes, until I heard voices. A sound which made me aware that no bear was going to be harvested in that location at that time. I viewed this optimistically by considering that they might have spooked one in my direction. But now it was time to move on to another area. I hiked to the top of the slope and had to lie down for the first time that day. When I got moving again I soon came to a trail that I had followed during other seasons. More movement in the brush out along the trail didnt get me too excited. Soon my suspicion was confirmed when I spotted a father with his two sons walking in my direction along the trail. I waved as they passed and to my surprise, I recognized them from the year before. 










Now I look back at this as the moment of the critical decision of the year. For three seasons I had wanted to reach a particular ridge, and for three seasons, one decision after another had kept me from reaching it. With the two areas that I had spotted bears at last year having been walked through by myself and other hunters, I had to figure out where to go next. I sat down and looked at my maps. Today was the day that I was going to go see that far away ridge. I decided to hike fast toward that direction in order to allow some time to be hunting when I got there and the necessary hours to make it back to the vehicle by the end of legal shooting time.

When I got to within less than a five hundred yards from the far end of the ridge, I fell to the ground and gasped for breath. During the walk, a pain in my knee slowly had built up to the point that it was now hurting badly. I was also soaked with perspiration and couldnt be still too long without starting to shiver. Soon I started to limp along slowly and study all features around me. Working along the ridge brought me to the far point on the mountain range. There were monstrous rocks everywhere that begged to be photographed. I lowered the backpack again and snapped away. This is when a hunting vacation is truly relaxing. The view was spectacular. 










As I hiked along, I noticed that the acorns in that area were so thick that you couldnt put your foot down without stepping on several of them. I could have gathered a five-gallon bucket of acorns in ten feet square. I continued for what seemed like only a few minutes when I spotted a dark spot near a small clearing up ahead. I raised my rifle to check it out, like I had done at least twenty times already that day. These dark spots are always some burned out stump, rock, shadow, or other anomaly. But this time I peered through my scope and actually saw a bear!

I shivered to the core of my existence. Twelve years of pain and shortfall, and now an actual shot opportunity. My first thought was to confirm the target. When he moved his head away from me the tension inside went up. We had quite a bit of brush between us and I wondered if I could thread that needle. The bear was quartered toward me at one hundred and twenty yards and standing motionless. Knowing that I had been moving through heavy brush and was unable to be quiet, I feared that he knew I was there. I put the crosshairs on the front of the chest, slid off the safety, and squeezed the trigger. He jumped in what I considered to be an odd fashion, and I thought I had hit my mark. While I chambered another round, he moved about five steps uphill onto a rock. Now he was away from the brush that had previously limited my view. He looked magnificent and I thought to myself thats a nice bear. With the clear view I quickly aimed for the neck and squeezed.

He tumbled end over end for over twenty yards or more until he was out of my view and was near a downed tree just above some huge laurel thickets. An instinctive reaction inside me felt fear and danger from having an injured bear in my vicinity and no one else around. I dropped my backpack and scrambled to get more shells within easy reach. 

I had done it! I knew he was done, but I was not about to move. I sat there for about half an hour quivering with excitement. During that time I collected my spent cartridges for safekeeping. Next I slowly moved in that direction taking at least twenty minutes to close the distance between us to within sight. Now I was thirty yards away and definitely very alert. I moved to within five yards and tossed a stick toward him. The animal was much smaller than I had previously thought, but I didnt care. No movement on his part confirmed to me that it was time to celebrate.

I immediately tried to radio Dad, Uncle Tim, or Michael. No answer, I was out of range. I checked the time and it was 3:00. Unfortunately, I didnt have a writing implement, a big knife or a flashlight. Even if I had two healthy knees, I couldnt possibly drag what I estimated to be a one hundred and thirty pound animal for the distance I needed to cover before dark, and I knew it. I decided to limp back to the trucks and get some lights and additional muscle. I picked up a blood stained leaf as a souvenir. When I made it back to the top of the slope near the place I had taken the shots. I tore a piece of my toboggan off and tied it to a branch to mark my location. I stood there and stared down toward the bear, burning that image into my memory. I noticed a rock right next to me that looked like a giant turtle and that I was right at the crest of the ridge. 

Away I limped through the laurel for a few hundred yards, happily as could be. Swoosh, and a bear was right in front of me. He quickly darted away and the incident was over, but it had shaken me. I wasnt prepared for that encounter with my gun slung over my shoulder, and was not going to let that happen again. Now I carried my gun alertly and paid attention to my surroundings. I thought of the photos I had taken of the rocks just before success and wondered if that is where he had been headed. I thought of the pride with which I would tell everyone that I had finally done it. It dawned on me that I hadnt taken any photos of the bear. Oh well, too late now, Ill have to get them later. I was hoping to get the family and make it back to the bear by dark. We would bring lights in with us and drag it out in the dark. Desperately I tried to radio any of them as I would call out Dad, Uncle Tim, Michael, do you hear me?. After much hiking, and endless radio attempts, I finally heard a scratchy version of Michaels voice respond by saying I hear you. I got him I proudly stated to the radio. He said I cant hear you did you get one?. I got him, I got him I repeated.

Now I relayed information to Michael that I would meet them at the trucks and requested that he attempt to contact Dad and Uncle Tim. Onward I went until I came to a ridge that looked familiar. I continued over the ridge and started bearing to the right so as not to drop into the valley. Id rather walk 5 steps on the flat than 1 step up. Soon I came to a path that may serve for fire-fighting access. I turned right and continued limping along with my knee really hurting by this time. I saw a stand of saplings that looked familiar from last year and continued. When I came to a place that I had sat during the afternoon of the last day of season in 2003, I knew I had gone the wrong direction on the trail.

Out came the maps and compass, and I realized the error I had made had taken me a mile and a half in the wrong direction. Too late now, I had to get going. From where I was at that moment, it had taken Michael and I forty-five minutes to reach the road during the previous season. This was with healthy legs and no limp. Furthermore, the point that it would bring me out onto the road was two miles from where the trucks were parked. Now I realized for sure that I was not going to make it to the road in the daylight and it was unnerving. The encounter from the previous hour was still fresh in my memory. I told myself to stay calm. 

The hike back toward the road was painful as I pushed myself to try to keep a decent pace. After I had returned to my point of entry on the trail, I only went maybe a hundred yards before I came to an intersection of trails which I had been at many times. I immediately felt relief within. I could walk this trail in the dark. Soon I had limped my way all the way to the road. After catching my breath, I tried the radio, and again was unable to reach anyone. So, down the road I limped. After covering half a mile or better, I was finally able to get a response. Michael said its really good to hear your voice. When they came up the road to pick me up it was pitch black. Dad got out of Uncle Tims truck and gave me a hug. I bent over and gasped for breath. I was really glad to be out of the woods and broke down in tears. They had been trying to call for search assistance but their cell phones dont work up there.

I told them where the bear was and that I intended to return to it with lights, rope, knives, and something to write with. They followed me in my truck to the point where the fire-access trail comes to the road and we pulled in. Once we got there we gathered our gear and began the walk back towards the bear. About that time, I was feeling pretty good. That was about to change. They had asked me how long it would take to reach the bear. I checked the distance on the maps and indicated that I thought if we hiked at a good pace, we should make it in forty-five minutes. Well an hour later, we had stopped for breath several times already and were still nowhere near the bear. Dad said that the bone spurs in his foot were really starting to hurt and he wasnt sure how far he could go. He decided we could continue a little further. 

As we moved along each of us had a flashlight, dad had my twin-bulb fluorescent lantern, and I had my two million candlepower spotlight. I would occasionally shine the spotlight in our intended direction of travel. After an hour and twenty minutes of hiking, we saw a bear directly in front of us when I turned on the spotlight. Ten minutes later I saw another pair of eyes looking right back at me. We were all becoming tense as we sat there gasping for air. Dad was now complaining of chest pains. This made me think of returning to the truck immediately. Uncle Tim suggested that he and I continue ahead and return to Michael and Dad with the bear. We only had one firearm with us, and dad did not want us to split up. I quickly insisted that we stay together. Dad said he could go a little further, so onward we trudged. Not five minutes later, a piece of laurel snatched the eyeglasses right from dads face. We all stopped instantly and began searching. After five minutes of looking Michael finally spotted them, and with no damage. Next my spotlight quit working. I swapped in the only spare battery pack that I had, and we were not even to the bear yet. This was getting ridiculous. 

We continued, and finally I spotted the large rock formations I had been at earlier in the day. I felt that we were very near the right location. We went very slowly now and I shined the light desperately trying to locate my prize. After five minutes of searching, I felt like I had already pushed the group too far and called out lets get out of here. We had taken two hours to get to that spot. It would take us two hours and forty minutes to make it out. Finally we reached the trucks and poured in like soup. We had given it our best attempt and had fallen short.

A few doughnuts are all I was able to eat when we got back to Dubois after midnight. I was able to call home for the first time now that I was back in cell phone range and let everyone know that I had been at least partially successful. My wife came up with an idea to save some damage, while dragging. She suggested that I get a tarp and wrap it up around the bear. I could then tie my ropes to the tarp and drag with less resistance. Back in the hotel room, I told Michael that if you added up all the years of hunting by our party, you would have 12 by dad, Uncle Tim, and myself. Plus two years by Michael, one year by Uncle Don, and Two years by Uncle Andy. That equals 41 hunting seasons, just like the previous years average success rate. I assured him that it would not be 41 more seasons until we succeeded again. I had no idea how right I was.

Tuesday morning started late since we were all dead tired. At breakfast we discussed leaving one vehicle parked along the valley road and driving around to the ridge road for the hike in. An hour later we came to the sawhorse blockade at the end of the valley road. We lowered the ribbon to drive past and retied it. Soon we were parked at the toe of the slope directly below the mountain ridge that my bear was on. I dont know why, but I looked up the mountain and thought I can hike straight up that slope in an hour. I knew from the night before that it would take at least two hours of hiking from the ridge road and that would be after another thirty minutes of driving to get there. I had hiked similar slopes in this region a few other times in years past and knew that it would hurt, but it could be done in about an hour. I checked the slope to see how my knee would hold up and it seemed all right. Dad wasnt going to be able to go far from the vehicle no matter where we started our hike. His feet were still hurting too much. I let him know that he could walk part way in the valley up the road and hunt there until we got back. I instructed him to stay with the creek and that I knew that there was some nice territory up that hollow. Michael and Uncle Tim seemed ok with the idea of reaching the desired location in one hour vs. two plus. 

I felt like I shouldnt carry a firearm since I had a bear on the top and planned on tagging it within an hour. Uncle Tim indicated that he didnt want to carry his gun up the slope and risk bumping his scope. I looked at Michael and said looks like youre carrying a gun. I was not about to hike up to the top of that mountain into the thickest laurel you can imagine and where I had already seen three bears, without a firearm nearby.

Up the slope we started. We needed to climb about twelve hundred feet to reach the top. I didnt try to push too hard. We would go for a while and lie down, then repeat. Within a few hundred feet, it was apparent that Uncle Tim was really struggling with this slope. Michael seemed like he was going just fine and I told him he could continue as long as he kept us in sight. He said he would wait at the top. About two-thirds of the way up, Uncle Tim said he wasnt going to make it. He said he would wait there and come back down with us after we got my bear. Slowly the gap between Michael and myself grew as we neared the top.

Suddenly I hear voices yelling from just up over the ridge from me. Bang! A shot rang out and I look up the slope a hundred yards to see Michael standing with his gun pointing right to his side. He yelled come on you expletive you want to go!. (Ill never forget that phrase). I yelled out to ask if he got one. He yelled back that he had one down ten feet away. I screamed for him to back off and I began running up the side of that mountain with renewed energy. I couldnt see the bear, just Michael pointing his gun toward a boulder right next to himself. It took me five minutes to get there, at which time I saw a really nice looking bear lying against the uphill side of the huge boulder. After quickly verifying there was no movement we gave each other a high five. Michael had made it to within thirty yards from the top when this bear had charged directly from over the top of the ridge and come right at him. I never did see the other hunters that had driven the bear in our direction. We had gone from being skunked for years to having two bears lying on the same ridge at the same time. What a feeling! I called dad on the radio and let him know the good news. He was elated.

We decided to let that one lie there while we went to gather mine, which I thought, would be within a hundred yards. We headed to the top and around the ridge a short distance until we came to the rock formation that I remembered from the day before. I pulled my digital camera from the backpack and viewed the photo I had taken at that spot to verify my location. The bear should be right over there. But it wasnt. The ground didnt look right. Where was the steep slope I had watched the animal roll down? Where was the clearing I had shot into? Where was the laurel with the large leaves? Where was my toboggan marker? Where was the turtle looking rock? Gone, all gone. I thought we had come further than we needed to. We dropped down one level and started back toward the area where Michaels bear was lying. We came back past the large rock formation and I could not believe that the bear had not been found. We started a circular motion of searching. This went on for an hour with no results. I knew by the photo from the day before that we were in the right vicinity. But, we could not find the signs that I had memorized the day before. 










Michael suggested that we should get his bear going down the mountain and then continue the search for mine. I agreed and we headed that direction. When we got to his bear, he said that he could field dress the animal and get it down to Uncle Tim, who could get it the rest of the way to the truck. Michael would then return to help me continue my search if I had not found it. I told him to ask if Uncle Tim had any water to send back up, since we didnt have much left. We had thought that we wouldnt be up on the mountain very long. Michael gave me his rifle and said hed be back up in about an hour. I marked the time and headed back in the direction that I thought my bear was.

I went farther than we had looked before and passed an odd looking mushroom that I recognized. I thought I had seen it while hiking out the day before. This made me think that I had come too far. I went down about a hundred feet and started back around the ridge. I was in thick laurel and could not find familiar looking ground. I paused for breath and tried to calm my frustration. I knew he was there; I just had to find him. When I checked the time I realized that Michael would be back up on the ridge soon. I started in that direction to rejoin him. 

A bear stepped out just twenty yards in front of me. I raised the rifle and had a perfect shot opportunity. That bear was much larger than any other Ive seen previously. Just for a moment I thought about dropping it. No, that would be illegal and besides that, I wanted my first bear. There will never be another first bear kill, and I was determined to find it. The bear stood there for almost a minute staring at me. It was unnerving. Finally he darted off, right in the direction that Michael would be coming up the mountain. My heart dropped, as I knew he was unarmed. I ran around the side of that mountain and to the area that Michael should be. My heart was nearly pounding out of my chest with fear and exhaustion. I screamed for Michael. He yelled and was just thirty yards from me and he was gasping for breath also. I yelled for him to get over here. He was clueless that another bear was in the area. As it turned out, he had just reached the top of the mountain seconds before I got there. I had seen five bears in twenty-four hours, all within a few hundred yards of one another.

We continued our search for the next couple of hours and were having no luck at all. By this time I was really feeling bad inside. How could I lose my bear? This could not be happening to me. Frustration was starting to get the best of me. I was becoming desperate. Dad called on the radio to get an update and Im sure he could detect the frustration building in my statements. I kept searching the same areas, and kept coming up empty. Now dehydration was starting to set in. We each had less than a few ounces of liquid with us and we would have to leave the mountain to avoid a medical emergency. I resigned myself to leaving my bear on the mountain for another night and my heart sank. Michael suggested that we look farther out the ridge than we previously had. I agreed only because it would bring us closer to the stream that I had sent dad up earlier that day. We would follow the ridge and then drop into the valley to get some much-needed hydration. 

We went a few hundred yards until we came to an opening. I told Michael this looked similar to what I had seen the day before, but that it was definitely too far around the ridge to be the right location. I said that we should head straight down the mountain right now to get water. Michael said well were here, lets at least go look. This is just like the area you have been describing all day. I grudgingly agreed while believing in my heart that we were much too far from the correct area. As we went through the opening, I told Michael that this was indeed very similar. I said, It had a rock just like that one at the top, and had a tree down just like that one, and had big laurel thickets below just like those. Michael said and a dead bear just like that one? I thought he was joking and told him that was not funny. He said that was no joke. I ran ahead to catch him and finally saw my prize for the first time in twenty-five hours. 

The closer I got to it, the less I liked what I saw. My heart sank when I got up next to it. It was apparent that something had mauled my bear carcass overnight. The hair was going in all directions and was wet everywhere. There were holes chewed through the front shoulders and through the buttocks. I yelled out in anger. This was a very cruel twist of fate. All those years of hunting... and now when Im successful, my prize was destroyed.

I knew I still needed to field dress it and get it to a tag station to satisfy my legal obligations. When I opened it up, there was a powerful odor that arose. This confirmed to me that not only was my rug destroyed, but the meat would be useless also.

After completing that task, I got out my tarp that I had purchased that morning. We wrapped the bear into it and tied on ropes for the drag. Soon we were on our way down the steepest grade I have ever seen in that region. There was no way to go along the grade. The only thing we could do was go straight down. Even that was tiring and cumbersome. About an hour later we were nearing the stream that dad had gone along earlier in the day. We dropped our ropes and dashed to the water. We lay along the edge of the water and drank like ravenous wolves. 

By now it was getting close to dark and we didnt know if we would make it out in the daylight. Once again I found myself in the backcountry with fading light and no flashlight. Soon dad called on the radio again and asked about where we were. I let him know our location and that we may have to abandon the drag to make it out. He said that would be fine and that there was an officer of the law waiting for us at the road. We dragged for another ten minutes or so and could still not see any indication of the roadway ahead. We dropped our ropes and moved as fast as we could to get out with the tiny amount of illumination still available.

A quarter mile later we were on the dirt road. There, a forest ranger sat writing citations for every vehicle that was in the area. He asked for my drivers license and said to go wait at my truck. We walked down the road to the vehicles where Uncle Tim was fuming that he had been cited. Michaels bear was next to the trucks already. We waited for over half an hour until the officer finally approached us. He was kind and not too overbearing. He asked if I knew this road was closed? I nodded in acknowledgement. After he gave me my ticket, I asked if we could go get my bear. By now it was pitch black and he started shaking his head no. I did not argue, I just dropped me head in anguish. He asked me how far up the valley the bear was laying. I told him that it was a quarter mile. He then inquired if I was the same person that had told these other guys that the bear was forty-five minutes away just the night before. I nodded yes. He asked my brother how far it was. Michael said about a quarter mile.

The officer said we could go get it and that he would go with us. So, up the valley we headed with all the same lights from the night before. After about two tenths of a mile, the group started doubting the accuracy of my estimate. During this break, the officer told us that his job for the next two weeks was to write citations for vehicles that were on the road. They wanted folks to be able to get by the sign and that the fines collected would be used to repair the flood damage. I thought that was fair. It seemed like a user fee to me and Ill be glad if it is fixed by this fall. Just a few minutes later we spotted the tarp. Half an hour later we finally loaded the bears into my truck. Now I had to get to a tagging station. I had already violated the law regarding check in within twenty-four hours of a kill, and did not want to have to wait until morning.










An hour later I was pulling into the tag station with an hour to spare before closing. I remembered all the years that I had visited that station just to see a bear. I had seen vehicles bring in multiple bears and had thought that was somehow unfair. How come these guys have two bears, and we cant even get one between us after all these years? Now I was the guy pulling in with two bears in the back of my truck, and I was beaming with pride.
The gentlemen at the tag station were kind did not even ask about why I was checking the bear in twenty-nine hours after the kill. There was no one there with bears but us, so the crowd was entirely focused on our bears. Dad was smiling so much youd have thought he got those bears. My bear ended up weighing 118 lbs and Michaels ended up weighing 286 lbs. We finished up there and then Michael and I drove home to Ohio after packing the bears in ice. Ive never enjoyed a long ride so much. 

Uncle Tim and dad stayed for the next day and Uncle Tim had another shot opportunity in the same area, but was unable to continue the success. Meanwhile, I drove those bears all over the place that morning. I showed them to anyone who would look and probably some who didnt want to. We went to mom and dads house and took a bunch of photos. Unfortunately, with my lack of photographic experience, most of them turned out to be of very poor quality. We did get a few decent ones however and I dont need any pictures to remember that season for the rest of my days.



















In the afternoon, we went to the local taxidermist and he skinned out both bears on the back of my truck with only a razor blade. Only then did I realize how much meat was missing from my bear. It was quite impressive to see the hides laid out in his yard. He said the damage to the hide of my bear could be easily repaired. When I inquired what he thought had mauled it, he lined up the puncture wounds from the hide with the teeth of Michaels bear. It was a perfect match. He said that they were opportunistic feeders and that he was positive that another bear had inflicted the damage. Our rugs will be completed in the spring of 2006, and I cant wait.

Ill never know for sure how I had gone nearly three hundred yards from that rock formation before taking my shot, and yet was so sure that it must have been less than two minutes. But maybe I do know. For me the easiest way to make time fly is to be hunting or fishing.

Finally, I absolutely have to thank some folks. Thank you Alicia for letting me pursue my dreams every autumn. Thank you dad for giving me the love of outdoors that will never fade. Thank you Uncle Tim for giving up your hunting time to help me. Thank you Michael for never doubting me up on that mountain even when I was doubting myself.

This story has not been embellished in any way. Those are the facts as I recall them. I did make several mistakes and I hope that others may learn from them. However I plan on learning from them myself and am determined not to repeat them in the future. Here is a list of some of the mistakes I made and the remediation that I plan so as not to repeat them.

1.	No flashlight in my backpack. I will always have one with me from now on.
2.	No checklist of items allowed me to forget the flashlight that I usually had with me. I will have and review a checklist before leaving the truck.
3.	I had a GPS unit with me, but did not mark the bears location. Next time I will.
4.	I had a digital camera with me, but didnt photograph the area prior to leaving it. Next time I will photograph it.
5.	No safety tape to mark the trees nearby and assist in returning. Safety tape will be with me in the future.
6.	No writing implement with me led me to not tag the bear immediately. This was not only a violation of the law, but led me to not field dress the bear immediately either. This in turn led to meat spoilage when I was unable to find the bear until 25 hours later. I will have a pencil in the future and even if it gets lost, I will still field dress immediately.
7.	No big knife with me. This made the decision to not field dress immediately easier to make since I knew I had a big one in the truck and thought I would be returning very soon. It will be with me from now on.
8.	Not enough water with me on the second day led to dehydration. I emptied my backpack for the hike up the mountain on day two and had taken out three large bottles of water. Next time I will always have way too much water with me even if only going in the woods for ten minutes.
9.	Passing a barricade was illegal. I will never drive past even a sheet of paper on a flimsy sawhorse. I try to be a law-abiding citizen and am ashamed of that mistake.
10.	Being out of radio contact with the others was dangerous and I am lucky that my knee held out. We will hunt in groups of two at a minimum from now on.
11.	Not checking my map and compass or my GPS unit before heading toward the trucks allowed me to walk a mile and a half in the wrong direction. I will always consult the map and compass or GPS or both before making any large treks in the future.
12.	Our group had a plan on what to do at the end of an unsuccessful day of hunting, but no plan on what to do at the end of a successful day of hunting. We will always be prepared for success in the future.
13.	No checklist of what to do when successful allowed me to make compound mistakes while under the influence of adrenaline. I will have and use such a checklist in the future to eliminate the fog of excitement.
14.	Hiking too fast led to perspiration buildup and prevented any comfort for the balance of the first day. I will move at a reasonable pace at all times in the future.

Mistakes that I did not make and plan on not making in the future either.

1.	I had plenty of food and water with me on the first day for multiple days in the woods.
2.	I had an emergency blanket with me.
3.	I had flares with me.
4.	I was dressed for the conditions and could have survived overnight if necessary.
5.	I knew the area fairly well and never felt lost even after making a wrong turn. By studying the maps of the area, I knew there was a road within a few miles.
6.	I had my maps and compass with me and I know how to use them.
7.	I tried my best to get that bear out on the day of the kill and will do so again in the future. (I will use more common sense next time though).
8.	I did not lie to the officers either on the road or at the check station. Truthfulness is always the best policy.
9.	I went to the taxidermist for his opinion even though I felt there was no chance of saving the hide.
10.	I insisted that a weapon be with us on the second day. (Michael is glad for that one.)
11.	We all had two-way radios with us.
12.	Others knew where and when to expect to see me.

There were 2,972 bears taken by 132,181 tag holders for the 2004 Pennsylvania black bear season. That is the story behind the bears with tag numbers 041864 and 041865.


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## oufisherman (Apr 10, 2004)

Thanks for the story and congratulations on the successful hunt. I'm sorry that you were not able to find it in time and save the meat. It definately sounded like an exciting time. I hope that the next one is undamaged.


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## bkr43050 (Apr 5, 2004)

That was a great read!!! You did an excellent job of conveying the experience. I had a good vision of the whole thing. I didn't think I had the time to read it right now but I got started and could not stop.


Thanks for sharing!


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## TritonBill (Apr 9, 2004)

That definately was an exciting read Paul! Congrats on the bears, that would definately be an adrenaline rush to be confronted by a bear!

Bloomingdale! I eat at the Dove Inn on occasion! Great food and friends that run the place.


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## Papascott (Apr 22, 2004)

GREAT STORY. Thanks for sharing.

Scott


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## swantucky (Dec 21, 2004)

Bravo!!!Bravo!!!


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## mrtwister_jbo (Apr 7, 2004)

very kool  
good job on both the hunt an the read !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
twister


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## bkr43050 (Apr 5, 2004)

I was thinking last night after reading the story that I believe that is better than most of the similar type of articles that I read in the Field and Stream. I don't know where you are getting it published but I would certainly think it would be good enough to make it in to there.

Once again great job on the story and the hunt.


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## Onion (Apr 10, 2004)

Fantastic story. Congratulations.

As I was reading it I was wondering why you didn't mark the downed bear with a GPS. I see you had one but forgot to mark it, I can certainly understand that.


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## lv2fish (Jun 23, 2005)

Great story, congrats on the results!


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## Fish-N-Fool (Apr 12, 2004)

AWESOME adventure and story! 

Some things are worth waiting for and your bear fits that mold. 
Make sure to post a pick of the rug next year.


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## ski (May 13, 2004)

great job.
I hunt the Brockway, Dubois area every year for small game and turkey every fall and usually see a bear or heavy sign every year. Even with a shotgun, I get a little "pucker factor" when I know I'm in "their" land.
ski


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## Mushijobah (May 4, 2004)

NICE! I would love to do that.


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## BIGDAWG (Apr 17, 2004)

Awesome story! I appreciate your persistance. It certainly paid off, can't wait to see the pics when the hide is done. BD


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