Don’t take any chances with grizzly bears!

Some of us, myself included if Mike Hall and I are lucky enough to draw our Wyoming elk tags, will be hunting this coming fall in Montana or Wyoming, and we need to be aware of grizzly bears. Perhaps you will be hiking the trails in our national parks including Yellowstone. In our West, grizzlies have flourished beyond the environment’s ability to carry them. Why? Because antihunting “bunny huggers” (good but misinformed people) have petitioned our courts to do away with proposed grizzly bear hunting seasons. The same is true of British Columbia Canada. Even limited hunts would give grizzlies some respect for man.

During my 2016 British Columbia moose hunt, my very concerned guide told me I had one full-time job while he cut up my bull. “Keep an eye out for grizzlies!” During my 2017 elk hunt in the foothills of Wyoming’s Absaroka Mountains, my guide was hesitant to leave me alone while he scouted ahead. His qualms? Grizzlies! During our 2000 Alaska hunt, Greg McCann and I snuggled up to our .375 magnum rifle and 12 gauge shotgun respectively as we slept in our tent. That first morning there was a sizable pile of very fresh bear manure in front of our tent!

My good friend and hunting partner, Greg McCann of Bon Homme County’s Cogan House, recently sent me an article from the January 2021 Farm Journal along with a personal letter. The article, “Eye to Eye with a Killing Machine,” told of Todd Orr’s near fatal encounter with a Montana Grizzly bear.

Todd grew up outside Ennis, MT. He trailed his father on numerous backcountry elk hunting trips, and had a bull elk under his belt by the time he was 12 years old. In 1990 he began working for the U.S. Forest Service, and since 2005, has designed and surveyed new trails into the Custer Gallatin National Forest.

Last October Todd was scouting elk on Bear Creek in the Madison Range when he came upon a sow grizzly with two cubs. She eventually caught his wind and charged. He expected it was a bluff, but instinctively raised his 9 oz. can of bear spray. Although he carried a pistol, he opted to give her a full blast of spray and then fell to the ground in a fetal position for selfprotection.

Or sustained several bites and puncture wounds before she left him, but no arterial or organ damage. He made 800 yards progress toward his pickup when she reappeared and attacked again. She shook him like a rag doll, inflicting bites across his back, sides, and arms. She then put claw gashes in his scalp before she left him a second time. Orr then miraculously made the hour trek back to his pickup and the 45 minute drive to the OR where eight hours of surgery followed. He survived.

My friend Greg is a veteran hunter with an Alaskan grizzly rug on his wall. While he doesn’t claim to be a grizzly expert, he does have some thoughts on Orr’s experience. He felt that Orr should have known better. Bear spray may or may not work. Regarding the pistol that Todd didn’t draw or fire, Gregg feels that pistols don’t have the power to consistently knock down a bear. Alaska federal and state agencies require rifles of .338 or .375 magnum as minimal in bear country. Twelve gauge shotguns loaded with slugs or buckshot will also suffice.

Regarding the pistol, hitting a target at 25 yards with a revolver under the best of conditions is difficult. Making a brain shot (the size of a softball) at a moving, rampaging target is nearly impossible. A hit anywhere else on the body will only serve to further anger the bear. My thought on the subject? Stay away from treks in grizzly country unless you or your guide is heavily armed. * * * * * * *

During the late 70’s and early 80’s, friends and I were borderline addicted to paddle-fish snagging. During May and early June we were making two trips a week to Ft. Thompson’s Big Bend Dam. I see where Cody James Watters recently set a new world record with a 151 pound 14 ounce spoonbill out of Oklahoma’s Keystone Lake.

See you next week. Hopefully I’ll be back from Cabo San Lucas and a marlin fishing expedition.

PHOTO: Author and Big Bend spoonbill from yesteryear