I knew too well the disappointment my daughter was feeling. She had pulled her hat down over her eyes to hide the tears on the late-night boat ride home. We had both hoped that her first trip to hunt bears with dad would end in success — and it nearly had.
While in that moment she couldn’t see beyond the apparent failure, I knew that some of the best lessons we learn in hunting, and life, aren’t easy ones.
My little girl, a crack shot since age four, turned seven this year. Like her older brother did when he was seven, she wanted to go bear hunting. She had anticipated this for months.
She’s a tiny girl with a big spirit, and we’ve spent the spring practicing shooting, looking at bear photos, studying shot placement, and getting our bear bait out. I know the desire a young hunter has to be successful and kill an animal — it still lives in me — but my goals in our endeavor are bigger. Sure, I want her to get a bear, but mostly I want her to gain confidence. As a dad I’ve learned that there is a lot of uncertainty and anxiety in a little girl’s heart, and I want to be with her as she faces challenges and overcomes adversity. Sharing the experience of hunting is just a benefit.
Our First Hunt
Our first sit together on the bear stand was textbook. Despite my third-person assurances that “Dad has been hunting bears for a long time,” this new world to her seemed unfathomable.
Her: “Is a bear going to come?”
Me: “I’m pretty sure.”
Her: “When?”
This exchange repeated seemingly fifty times over the next couple hours. But eventually I caught the movement of a black bear about 75 yards back in the woods. I helped her ready her rifle and whispered encouragement into her ear.
Her face beamed with excitement as the young boar cautiously approached the bait and began eating.
“Do you want to shoot this one or wait for a bigger one,” I asked. “I just want to get a bear,” she replied.
After a few minutes, the bear stood and presented an ideal broadside shot — one we’ve practiced hundreds of times on a bear silhouette target. This time it was for real though, and uncertainty began to grip her. She wasn’t confident that she was aiming correctly and simply couldn’t squeeze the trigger. After a few minutes, the bear ran off and didn’t return.
“It’s hard when things don’t go as planned, Bug,” I told her.
That was little consolation to a heartbroken kid who’d had an opportunity slip through her fingers. I told her that I’d always rather have her not pull the trigger if she’s unsure. I wish more adults would exercise that restraint.
A Second Chance
With some rest and renewed spirits, we climbed back into our tree stand a couple nights later. I no sooner got her carabiner clipped into the safety line before she went scampering up the ladder. It was a perfect night, quiet and calm. We now had photos of a nice grizzly bear that had found the bait only hours before our arrival. Her eyes lit up at the prospect of one-upping her brother and punching Dad’s grizzly tag (which is legal in Alaska).
I just hoped for another chance at a black bear. I’ve hunted grizzlies for many years and know that the odds generally are not in the hunter’s favor — though I was confident that the bear would return at some point during the night.
The hours crept by uneventfully, and I know her hope was waning as the Swainson’s thrushes began their late-night songs. Then I heard a crack. Then another. I quickly helped my girl ready her rifle and caught a glimpse of blond through the trees followed by another. A sow and cub grizzly approached the bait, but cautiously stopped short. The sow sensed danger and reluctantly returned into a dark stand of timber.
Wide awake now, my daughter whispered a mile-a-minute.
“That was so cool!” “I got to see two grizzlies!”
The Witching Hour
One of the first bits of bear-baiting wisdom I received from my uncle Jerry back when I was a kid, was that 11 p.m. to midnight is the witching hour. It’s generally held true for me over the decades (here in Alaska it stays light at that hour during this time of year). With the excitement of our first sighting still lingering, we heard another stick pop. As soon as I saw the bear pass through a gap in some spruce trees, I readied her rifle and said “It’s the boy grizzly, get ready.”
I can’t believe it, she’s going to get this bear, I thought.
As he approached, the boar became very alert. Grizzlies, in general, are much more spooky and cautious around bait than black bears. Whether it caught some of our movement or the scent of the recently departed sow, this bear sensed something wasn’t right. He came to the bait, huffing and posturing, and faced directly towards us. We patiently waited for 8 minutes. I hoped he would get distracted and expose his flank, but he never did. As he abruptly turned to leave, I clicked my tongue. He stopped for only a couple seconds — not long enough for her to take aim — then disappeared back into the trees.
“That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” she exclaimed. “That was totally worth sitting all night!”
The sharp disappointment from before was replaced with genuine excitement. Though back at home she did tell her mother that I had spooked the bear off.
More Important than the Kill
Hunters always say that it’s about much more than the kill. But how often do we live out that sentiment? I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t replayed the many times that I could have killed that grizzly. But it’s not about me, and it’s not even about killing the bear. I got to share a thrilling hunting experience with my daughter and teach her that it’s ok if the animal gets away sometimes. I know she will get her first bear eventually. If she wants to, she will continue hunting for many years.
But I can’t ever replace that first formative memory. I’m both thankful that it was a positive experience and proud of her persistence —— and restraint.
So much of our endeavor as hunters is to make ourselves more effective. We want the best gear, guns, bows, optics, and anything else that will help us seize any and every potential opportunity. All that is good, but there’s also an element of greediness that can come with hunting, and that’s something I don’t want to teach my kids. Much of the distasteful news and controversy we hear around hunting seems to revolve around a need to kill an animal at all costs. Use a bigger cartridge so you don’t have to wait for a more ethical shot angle, set up a rifle to shoot animals at excessive distances, bend or break the rules so that the trophy critter can be yours.
If there’s anything I want my daughter to learn from our hunting experience this year it’s that sometimes the animal gets away, and that’s ok. And when she does finally have success, after making good and ethical choices along the way, it will be so much sweeter.
Read the full article here
