Jesse's Hunting > Hunting Articles > Articles > From the Blogs - Hunting the CA B Zone Bruins -The Path Not Taken

From the Blogs - Hunting the CA B Zone Bruins -The Path Not Taken

Phillip Loughlin - JHO ProStaff Editor - SFBay Area, CA
October 09, 2008

This is the first year I’ve ever picked up a bear tag in CA. Many years ago, as a teen, I helped a few bear hunters manage their kills, and after skinning a couple of bruins, I came to the conclusion that it seemed an awful lot like skinning a big ol’ Labrador Retriever. I know, it’s not rational, but it’s me. I lost my heart for shooting bears, although I’ve always enjoyed eating them.

Lately, though, I’ve had a little change of heart. For one thing, I really want a bear hide to make into a blanket. I made my elk skins into blankets, putting one in my camper, and giving the other to my daughter, and it really tickles me to see her bundled up in it. How cool would a big, snuggly, warm bear skin blanket be? (I’ve been really taken by collecting hides lately, by the way… they seem a much more useful trophy than a set of horns or teeth.) Besides, I really enjoy eating bear meat.

So I decided to get a tag this year, and have a go at it. There’s no rule that says I have to shoot a bear if I decide I really don’t want to… and the tag really isn’t all that expensive.

Of course, the success ratio for CA bear hunters isn’t all that great. It’s even worse for folks, like me, who aren’t hunting behind hounds. The majority of successful bear hunters (not counting houndsmen) are simply deer hunters who stumbled onto an opportunity. I figured for sure that this yellow tag in my pack would act as the finest bear repellent on the market today, so the decision to shoot or not was probably a moot point.

Which brings us back to the bear scat in the woods. Lots of it.

Saturday morning at dawn found me slinking back down the trail. As I geared up, I noticed the stars were twinkling overhead. I was relieved to see that, because my rain gear was still saturated from Friday’s downpour. I slipped on some BDUs, a light shirt, and my old Liberty hunting coat. No, my camo patterns did NOT match, so sorry to the fashion police.

A half-hour from the truck, a breeze blew a chilly drizzle under the brim of my Stetson. I looked up, and saw that the stars had disappeared completely. I thought it over, and decided to keep going. The damp ground was dead silent… perfect for stalking through the huge pines, oaks, and spruce. The wind would sigh through the tree tops periodically, creating a small cascade of water that plopped and smacked the leaves. I was able to time my movements with these little symphonies, so that when I walked up on my first deer in the gloom, I’m not sure who was more surprised… her, shocked at my silent arrival… or me, shocked at how close I’d managed to get.

Deep in the timber, I didn’t notice that the rain had started to increase until my trail led out into a big meadow, hedged by manzanita bushes and oak trees. It was an ideal feeding ground for both deer and bears, and I slowed my snail’s pace even more as my eyes picked the landscape apart. The insistent plop-plop on my hat brim sounded like gunshots in my straining ears, and I looked around for a big tree or overhanging rock. Then, to my right, I saw the bear.