Black Bear Danger

The black bear population in North America is estimated at 750,000. Since 1900 there have been 67 recorded fatalities, at present about two every year.

There is somewhat  of a mystery when it comes to Newfoundland. There is an estimated population of 10,000 and never a recorded fatality, the bears on average larger than the mainland bears, and there diet, has a high percentage of moose and caribou kills. Personally having hunted and fished from one end of the island to the other, and of course saw bears on a regular bases. The answer to bears coming into camps remote and otherwise was to pick up a stone, and on a couple of occasions pop it off there back, no undue care was taken with the storage of food or garbage.

When I began guiding in a large hunting camp in northern Ontario, the camp over 3 million acres and when the spring and fall hunts we had approximately 250 bait stations. The camp at that time had 5 guides putting out every 2-3 days 50 5 gallon buckets of bait. the bait consisted of  grains or corn mixed with fry oil collected from chip shops in Thunder Bay, as well as candy, jams, honey, rejects from factory, this topped with a generous amount of moose cuttings. The amount of bait going out was considerable, and we built a mixer to accommodate the volume, this would auger the bait into the buckets.

The guides at that time did not carry bear spray or guns, but machetes to cut the extremely thick brush.The highly intelligent bear, was not about to kill the one bringing a huge amount of easy food every 3-4 days.
The bears knew the guides and there trucks, individual baits, had a location and number, we kept records of hits misses. We noticed if you took a different truck into your area there would be a considerable reduction in hits.

On many occasions, when bringing bait to a location, I would catch sight of  a bear waiting for the easy meal, they would move off, never gave it a second though, there was an estimated 800-900 bears in our area. Our camp or the many camps in the area we never heard of a guide attacked.

At that time there were more bears in Ontario than the 1800s, the reduction of the forest to brush areas, was to the advantage of the black bear. In there wisdom the government closed the spring bear hunt, claiming to protect the bear population and killing of female bears, this was not at all true, we did not kill the female for the simple reason, she would send the cubs into the bait first, we would move the hunter to another location, close down that bait to hunting, but keep on baiting. The government never asked the outfitters, the city boys made the decision to close the spring hunt---I was out of a job.
Then I moved to beautiful Alberta, the 1st big plus was the tremendous reduction in bugs, and the amount of fish and wildlife, but most of all the beautiful and wary white tail deer, the ultimate in hunting.
Highway 11 west of Rocky Mountain House was  home to a large white tail deer population, no permission required to hunt and a very large area, bears never came to mind.

A  wide gas line crosses the highway, a good place to hunt, found a suitable stump to sit, got shooting sticks ready, some does crossed,  I was hidden on the side with full camo and face mask, no wind a beautiful sunset. I heard something behind me, thinking it was a deer, I turned slowly, not 50 ft away a huge black bear was stalking slowly towards me in the high grass, still not alarmed I stood to drive him off. To my amazement he did not run, but also stood, he was sniffing, and moving his head, it looked like an attack posture.This became a Mexican standoff, oh no the very day i am carrying my mickey mouse 243, I wished for the pump 12 with slugs. I took the safety off, the scope now a disadvantage, I would have to barrel shoot, and would most likely get one shot off. Time stood still, I could simply raise the rifle and fire, maybe should have.

Then I yelled , something in the order of , better get the hell out of here before somebody gets hurt.We continued to stare, I waited , ready, he decided, and slowly walked away.

Valuable lesson learned, do I carry bear spray ?? Yes, more bear alert, yes. remote areas 30-06. If  I have to go back to an area to pull out a deer,the rifle loaded and ready, bear spray on the belt.

Stag Caribou

The once great caribou herds rebounded for a couple of reasons, the winter time poaching with skidoos, dog teams was stopped by helicopter patrols, heavy fines, gear confiscation, jail time. The value of lynx fur, and the realization that the lynx population was having a devastating effect on the caribou population.

In any case after many years of closure, a caribou draw was put in effect, a business friend approached me, his son and hunting partner was successful on a stag only draw. I knew the area and would I take them in country, I remember the rush of excitement , yes indeed was the answer.

There was maybe some bad news one was a bow hunter, in an area were a tree is hard to find, wide open bog, and miles and miles of  barrens, the herds at the best of time hard to find.

I knew the boys, not yet 20 years old, but hard as nails hockey players and use to the woods, They would have to be this was going to be a rough trip  with extremely tough conditions.

Along weekend would have to do, University schedule had no flexibility, so little time so much country.

We drove about 4 hours to an access point, we would take the three trikes into the main hydro line, then 15-20 miles in country, and do some high hill spotting. This sounds easy but the September rains had turned the bogs into a complete quagmire, hip waders, with good rain gear would be necessary, in the low areas, it would be a constant team effort pulling the machines from the bog.

We had minimal camping gear and food for two nights, we made fairly good time now and then on the rocky hills, getting to third gear, the low bogs a steady grind.

By Saturday afternoon we made a high ridge, I knew this place, the rain persisted, we would have to  camp in the middle of the rocky trail, we spaced the bikes  in a triangle to secure the tent, broke out a tarp for cover to set up, the wind came up, this was going to be a rough night, somewhere along the line I had dipped my bottom in a bog hole, water seeped in my good rain gear that didn't help. By now the wind howled in the over head hydro lines, there were distant flashes of lightning, I cracked a flask and passed it around, not one complaint they were good boys-----We had not seen one caribou.

At dawn I opened the tent flap visibility maybe 100m, nobody moved, we would have to wait it out.    By mid morning all hands were up, stiff and cold, the fog persisted, I boiled water for morning coffee on the one burner coleman, bacon ,eggs,followed with a couple of slices of bread.

By noon i could see the sun about to break through, The 30.06 remington pump and bow was made ready. We walked to the high crest over looking miles of country, binoculars  ready.
I was thunderstruck as I looked in the valley, a herd of caribou about 30 with a big stag with a magnificent white collar was lying down about 300m away, I dropped to the barrens, we needed a plan.
The bowman with full camo gear would stalk upwind, we would watch from the crest, this would take a while, he made the big circle, we settled in, he had an advantage the stag was on the downwind side of the herd. His partner wanted him to try the stalk, next to impossible in open ountry, I didnt say a word, and watched, I had no rifle although I dearly wished I did.

At about 75 m a small doe spooked the herd they were all up and running in an instant, I gave the rifleman the nod, he steadied the rifle on a grassy bank, the first shot really got them moving,, by now well out there and moving at full gallop he fired his fifth and final shot, to my amazement the stag went down. I said with some emotion good shot, better get down there, he left the bullets back at camp. I waved to the bowman, he began walking toward the downed caribou, we picked our way slowly down the rocky hillside.

The bowman got about 10m from the caribou,when he came to his feet and began to trot off, we looked at each other  in disbelief. The bowman raised his bow and released, nothing happened, we watched, then at about 40m out the stag went down for the last time, later I.. would see the arrow track through the heart. The camera came out for pictures, I took hold of the huge rack to adjust for a better picture, it came off in my hand, the 30-06 bullet at over 300m had stuck the antler about two inches from the skull and knocked him down. I still consider that to be the best shot I ever witness

The rack now on a wall, was repaired by the taxidermist with a wooden dowel.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

The Poacher

The poacher lived in a out of the way area, he had a logging business, and of course logging trucks, he employed people, he was well know in the area.
The moose population had exploded, he would need customers, he had the transportation, so it began.
The poacher a tough self made man operated with a certain amount of intimidation,many of the locals feared him, a large family was involved and everyone took advantage of the cheap meat.
The size of the operation grew, and there are eye witness accounts of  13 moose been taken off in one load.
The government in there wisdom hired wardens from the area, this was probably no help at all, and its best not to pursue this subject any further. In any case the operation went on for many years.
The demand for cheap meat grew and soon the off season killing began, by now it is safe to guess the  number of moose killed was in the hundreds, he was not operating alone.
The number of complaints grew the government reacted, the poachers reacted to the threat, decoy trucks, monitoring wardens were about, the word also pay offs.
There were storage areas involved, cabins,  unsuccessful hunters out on a weeks big drunk, could drop over pick up a moose put there tags on and head home.
Greed is a terrible thing, no such thing as giving up when you are ahead, The RCMP became involved, some of the henchmen were caught,the small fines paid.
The poacher maybe thinking himself invincible made his first mistake, shot a moose in country on skidoo for customers to pick up. He put the moose heart in a bag to take home and eat later, in the mean time he headed to the local bar to have drinks with the boys, parking the skidoo out side, the wardens showed up, for sure on a tip,when he came out they had him, after that things went down hill, he kept up the poaching, until he  was sentenced to a considerable time in prison.

Seals

On a routine hunting trip for seabirds, towing my 22 foot spruce local built boat, the bay was frozen for about two miles, large chunks of ice moved around with the rise and fall of the tide. I noticed some activity by the locals on the ice, I decided to walk down and see what was going on.
They had cut a line of holes in the sea ice, and with a long stick with floats attached, played it through the holes with a rope attached. The idea was to tow a herring net under the ice, apparently there was a huge school of herring there, and they would make a few bucks selling herring. The herring is really a mass of bones, with some tasty fish meat, I bought a dozen.
This was a social event, and we exchanged yarns. Somewhere in the conversation they mentioned the seals had found out about the nets, and were helping themselves.
The seals bloated on the herring would get up on the ice mid day to sun themselves.
I drove out the bay and sure enough I could see about thirty resting on the ice edge close to the safety of the open water.
The adult seal for the most part is a wary animal , clumsy and slow on the ice, but fast and graceful in the water. I needed a plan, and would have to get really close, the 30.06 semi browning with a couple of clips the idea weapon, but off in the distance I  could see the houses of the village,
this would be a job for the 12ga slug.
The next day I was ready, the wind was in the bay, I drove well out the bay and secured the boat to a ice pan, covered the engine and boat  with a white tarp, this was going to take a while.
I was wearing a white ducking cap as well as a white face mask, I was using a model 37 pump with 5 slugs, another 15 stood up on the boat seat, i was sitting on life jackets placed on the boat floor.
Slowly but surely I drifted in, there seemed a lot more than yesterday, they were well spread out, and I drifted directly towards a large group. The pulse quicken, most appeared to be sleeping, but every now and then a head would rise and look to what i though was in my direction, I remained motionless.
The 12ga slug is a very short range weapon, I waited, at about 30 feet point blank i slowly raised the gun, off safety, and with iron sights took aim,and pulled the trigger, dead on impact, all hell broke loose, seals everywhere, it was all over in a few seconds, heading for the open water they came at me, 13 lay dead , the ammo gone, a lot of work tonight, and a lot of meat for the cans tomorrow.

Instrument of mass destruction

Birdseye had a fishplant in Hr Grace Newfoundland, it had about 1100 employees. They planned to build a fleet of fishing trawlers, but first they needed crew and officers to man this fleet. They purchased a training vessel from Germany, And named it the Newfoundland trainer, it came with German officers to facilitate the training. The captain a long time seaman and antartic whaling captain from Cuxhaven.
The training would start with 6 months training at the Fisheries College in St. John's, and six months at sea actually fishing,and training with the new german fishing trawl.
The project was a joint one the newfoundland goverment would pay for accommodations and tuition, and Birdseye and the government shared all other expenses.
The first six month term was basics, seamanship, navigation, rope and cable splicing, etc.
The first six months at sea was another matter. sea sickness is a terrible malady,semi circle canals gets knocked out of wack, and life becomes a living hell, the stomach rejects everything, fatigue, you just want to lie down and die. There is work to be done, the net comes back 24-7, every 3 and one half hours, the fish gutted put on ice. This in the beginning is like a slave ship, The net many times damaged , has to be repaired, while the spare net is put out. Before the net is repaired and the fish put away the net is on its way back. There is no watch, 24 --36 hours without a wink of sleep is not uncommon.
Let there be no mistake,or misunderstanding, the fishing trawler, with bottom towing trawl was an instrument of mass destruction. The trawl consisted of two 2800 lb doors, steel covered wood ,with thick bottom skids, they were angled,to drag along the bottom and spread the net. between the doors-and further back the net wings were 13 bobbins, huge steel 80 lb balls with a hole  thru the center, to accommodate a cable, keeping the net down and rolling along the bottom, the top entrance to the net, has many floats attached to keep the net wide open.
The delicate ecosystem on the continental shelf was torn to pieces by hundreds if not thousands of trawlers from all over the world dragging 24-7.
The warm gulf stream coming up the eastern seaboard, collides with the cold Labrador current, on the grand banks. There is a tremendous upheaval of currents, plankton thrives, the food cycle began.
The early explorers boats they say were often slowed by the huge shoals of cod, a weighted basket could be lower over the side and retrieved full of cod.
Then it began the cod fishery, the cod trap a huge square net with floats around the top,weights at the bottom, A long leader went to seaward, guiding the cod to two doors,once inside they kept circling, this of course in very shoal water. The cod was cleaned deboned, salted, air drieded. and sold in Quintals, 112lbs. Long lines of baited hooks,as well as hand lining from boats was used.
This system work well for hundreds of years, with no damage to the stocks of cod or the ecosystem.
The cod fish was in big demand world wide, a better way to mass catch them was needed, enter the fishing  trawler, greed took over no regard to the stocks or environment was given,it was only a matter of time and the grand banks would be raked clean.
I entered the industry in the last days and saw first hand the destruction, An average good trip 10 days at sea 200,000 lbs, now and then 300,000 lbs, we eventually have 5 trawlers supplying our fish plant of 1100 workers.
The untold story, the plant only wanted cod, every time the net came in we threw the by catch overboard,flounder, rose-fish,catfish,millions of pounds of perfectly good fish every year, an incomprehensible waste of a perfectly good resource.
Every man jack from the premier down knew the end was coming, but like a freight train out of control nothing was done, political suicide for anyone to suggest any changes.
How we knew the end was coming besides reduced catches, cod was sold to the US in 100 pound cod blocks,the exact figures are for gotten, but say in the beginning it took 50 cod to make the 100 pounds in the last days it took 100. It most likely will never fully recover, have we learned ??most likely not./

Hunting alone

One late November day I decided to go hunting. My wife on holidays in the far east, my regular hunting partner off to the doctor. The area I was to hunt 412 on the hunting map, an area I had hunted for many years. The drive from NE Calgary in the dark timed to arrive at the cut line I was to hunt at daylight. Not a soul in the world knew were I was.

The game that day would be white tail deer, a light dusting of snow showed numerous tracks. The rifle today a savage 243 with accu trigger, Winchester 100 gr power points the bullets.

Well dressed for the cold, with back pack well stocked with food water for a daylight to dark hunt if necessary, I had taken many deer out of this area.

The white tail deer buck is for the most part a difficult animal to hunt, shy, cautious, excellent eyes, ears, and nose. In total tune with there environment, push them to hard and they will go nocturnal. There weakness of course the female and during the rut they can act just plain silly.

I walked slowly down the cut line breeze in the face, advantage hunter, sun not yet up, but legal shooting light.

The morning passed, so far I had seen no deer. I walked out a small ridge, an embankment about 15 feet to my right, this to view a clearing, I paused to look around. I spotted a big doe about 70 m on the edge of the clearing. The doe was legal after the first of November, but I was not about to give up my tag yet, the large tracks in the area told me there was most likely a nice whitetail buck in the area.
The next thing i remember was waking up , there was blood on the snow, I driven a tooth through my lip on my fall off the embankment, I rolled over thinking that was pretty dumb, and inspected for damages, everything seemed find until I tried to get up.

The left ankle was broken, this hunting trip was over, I was about a kilometer from the road. I had hit my head in the fall, took me a few minutes to figure out were I was. I found a small round stick to use as a crutch I found out quickly that was not going to work, I was going to have to crawl.

I began the crawl, the ground was mosey with some light wet snow, progress slow,this was going to take a while. The temperature dropped it started to snow, I continued to crawl. The head trauma didn't help the stops became more frequent, for the first time I had my doubts that I could make it. I continued to crawl as the feeling of dread increased, I still had the rifle strapped to my back, that was staying with me, afraid some animal can smell my blood and would come to haunt me. I finally broke out on the main cut line, the grade increased, as did the cold and snow, my knees by now cut bruised and numb. The reality of the situation was no way would I ever make the truck. I would have to try and survive the night, get my strength back. Then I realized my rookie mistake, I had left the bag with rain gear which I should have put on as well  matches food and water, dumb, dumb, dumb I was going to die here. 5 seasons I had hunted this cut line I had never saw anyone, not once......

Feel hopeless and few more hours passed not sure how long..... Then I heard someone spoke to me, what are you doing there? I looked up two workers with hard hats were standing there, I barely able to reply with chattering teeth-- I fell and broke my ankle.

The two workers carried, dragged me to my truck, with the heater on full, some water and snack, I was feeling pretty good. They offered to drive me to the hospital, by now feeling pretty good I said no thanks I can make. It I have always regretted never getting their names, they saved my life. Later at the hospital the doctor told me my ankle had shattered like an egg, a serious injury and would take months to recover. I don't hunt alone as  much as I use to, and when I do never as far from the road, after all its not a good idea to hunt alone.

The Black Bear

The female black bear has a very unusual characteristic, delayed embryo transplant, which means she mates in April and May, but don't become pregnant. The reason, if throughout the summer season she do not put on enough fat to support a pregnancy and  survive the winter hibernation she will not become pregnant.

Enter the outfitter with a area allocation of 3 million acres. Erect 250 tree stands, and ever three days supply approximately 5 gallons of oat, corn mixed with fry oil, candy, popcorn, moose cuttings etc.
The black bears will take advantage of this easy food source, setting in motion a chain of events that will change the way the bears live. There territory becomes smaller, the mortality rate of cubs and adults drops significantly, the birth rate increases, the population explodes, we are now in fact raising bears. The mother trains the cubs to the bait stations.

In season the hunters arrive and because the female sends the cubs into the baits first the female are not shot, the hunters moved miles away to another bait. The female bear in fact has a good life,only pregnant two months a year, has tiny cubs, and is not hunted. The male bear drawn in from far and wide by the high population of females lives a very dangerous existence.