As I sat up in my tree on the opening day of the Black Bear season in Wisconsin I thought about what someone had said to me once. "Bait hunting for black bears is to easy, I don’t have any desire to shoot a bear on a bait pile" he said. Then I thought about the two previous years I spent Bear hunting in Canada sitting over a bait pile enjoying the scenery for some sixty plus hours. And came home skunked. "Maybe I just stink at Bear hunting" I thought.

Now finally drawing a tag in Wisconsin, I was with a group of eleven bear hunters in Bayfield County hunting the Cheqamegon national forest with Rich Hansen, former owner of Bitter Creek Sports in Menomonee Falls Wisconsin. Some of the hunters hunted with rifle and some with the bow. I would be hunting with my bow.

I’ve always hunted bears over bait with my bow. The cover at that time of the year is so thick that most shots are within bow range anyway. One of the hunter’s was hunting with a hand gun. Rich supplied bait for the hunt and a place to camp. The cost of the hunt was only $500 and I liked the fact of a do it yourself hunt. I had been applying for a tag for over three years. Finally getting notified that I had received a permit I immediately made plans for the hunt.

Now some six months later I sat in my tree stand a hundred yards or so off a fire lane waiting for my bruin. Black Bears are not easy to hunt over bait. They have an unbelievable sense of smell and they hear as good as a deer. Some say they have bad eye sight but I can tell you this, they may not see like a turkey but they can at least see as good as we can. If and when they do come into the bait, I think they know your there. They might not think you’re a threat or they might not care, but they know you’re there. I have had bears come into my baits sneaking so slowly, then all of a sudden bolt out. Their nerves just got the best of them.

Some sixty yards away I glanced over and saw the darkest object I had ever seen in the woods. It was only a half an hour or so until dark and getting late. The black image up against the thick green September foliage was unmistakable. My heart started to beat faster and I could feel my adrenaline picking up. When sitting in the woods waiting for a bear, lots of things goes through a hunters mind. Some are a little unnerving, but when you finally see the bear, it becomes the hunter against the hunted and all fear fades away.

The bear sat down contently and began bending small twigs of green plants towards his mouth nibbling away. He finally moved closer, ever so slowly reaching a fork in the trail towards the bait. One trail went to the bait and the other went to the left of my stand and underneath my tree. The bear stood on his hind legs, stuck his nose straight up and tested the air with his incredible smeller. At that distance I thought (hoped) he might go around 250 pounds. Not sure quite what to do, he sat back down on his butt and trimmed more leaves off their sticks.

He looked my direction several times and then must have thought, "Gee that hunter that leaves me my supper every night must be gone". We baited with bread soaked with gravy and goobers & raisonet candy. He definitely wanted the bait more then the bushes. I could here him growling from fifty yards away. At first I thought it was his stomach making that noise, but later realized it was the bear’s frustration of me being at the bait. He than got up and slowly took one step at a time. But as my luck would have it he took the trail to the left and would have to come beneath my stand before he would reach the bait. This trail was also longer than the other trail and I doubted he would be at the bait before dark.

As he moved closer it appeared he was getting smaller. 250, 225, 200, 175, oh no! Not harvesting a bear before, I was planning on shooting just about anything I’d get a shot at. This was my third year hunting the black bear and I didn’t want to go home empty handed again.

He was off my left side and barely moving. Now I knew his plan. He was just going to slither towards the bait and wait until dark to munch out. I had different plans. I had now been watching this bear for a half an hour and my bear fever was just about gone (just about). I guessed he was about thirty five to forty yards out. He was quartering towards me slightly. I drew my PSE compound bow back and put the thirty yard pin on his back just behind his shoulder. I honestly don’t remember pulling the trigger on my release but my finger must have moved because the next thing I knew the cams unleashed with a "WHACK". The sizzling sound of the string from my game tracker string tracker made a loud fffffffffzzzzzzzz into the woods and I heard the "crack" of the razorback broad head connect with bear tissue.

The bear took off like a freight train into the underbrush. I looked down and watched my string tracker speed off the spool. Soon the string slowed and then stopped. I listened for the familiar death bawl but was disappointed when the woods fell silent. Somewhere hopefully laying still was my bear. Then I started second guessing my shot. Did I shoot high? Did it bounce off his shoulder? I better go look for the arrow.

After a few minutes I figured I better get down, it was starting to get dark. I climbed down, turned my flashlight on and looked the area over. There was my arrow, covered in blood and my string still attached. Then I noticed the two pieces of string entering the woods pulled as tight as a guitar string. One line covered in blood and the other white. As the bear ran, he pulled the string out and it ran through his body painting it red with blood. As darkness came, I left. I went back to the road to await my ride.

When my friend Steve came to pick me up I told him I had shot a bear. Of coarse he didn’t believe me at first but finally I had convinced him. The plan now was to go back to camp and grab some lanterns and a shotgun (you never know).

When we arrived at camp a couple guys volunteered to help me look for my bear. After story time, we arrived back at my bait sight (without the gun). I noticed the bait was hit. Hmmm. We followed the string and in about fifty yards through some nasty thick brush I came to the end of the string. It had broken off. There was a small puddle of blood on the ground at the end of the string. A huge sense of loss came over me. I thought I had made a good shot, but any bow hunter knows that weird things can happen when your bow hunting.

I told the guys we needed to start circling the area. I went about ten feet and almost stumbled on my bear. And thank goodness it was a dead bear. I did make a good shot on my first black bear. It weighed 165 pounds. Not the biggest bear in the woods, but it made a nice rug and now I’ll wait for the big one.

Out of eleven hunters ten guys scored. The only one that didn’t get a bear had passed up several smaller ones. Although the fishing in Canada can’t be beat, it took a trip to my homeland of Wisconsin to give me my first bear.

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