Right from the very beginning, the odds of taking a Michigan black bear are stacked against the hunter. Being selected to receive a license in itself is a tough thing to do and hunters can wait years for a tag. The bear hunting guide lists results from the past few years of application and harvest success. A hunter has a 3.4-45.8% chance to get a license depending on the area and hunt time chosen. Once drawn to receive a tag, only 23-30% of them will connect and take a bear. 

After finally being drawn for a license for the first time, I found myself having the odds pilled just a little higher. A co-worker convinced me to apply for the Carney area because he knew of some private property there that he bow hunted which had several bear hanging around last fall. No one bothered hunting them and the owner decided to let someone try to harvest one after seeing five different bear. So, we both applied for the third hunt to better our chance of pulling a tag. The hunting guide showed the odds of a successful drawing increased to 35.6% from 15.6% for the first hunt period. We reasoned that the bear in the area weren't hunted hard and a later hunt date shouldn't affect much. 

The thrill of finding a green successful drawing card for a license in my mailbox lasted only until the next morning at work. To make a long story short, I found out the private property wouldn't be an option for me and I was without a plan or place to hunt four weeks before the hunt started. This was going to be a major problem for me. I hunt deer in the UP and know of many likely places to try for bear, but all of these spots were in the Newberry Unit and I had a tag for Carney. I only applied for that unit because of the access to the private land and it sounded like a very good place to hunt, too good to be true I guess. 

The Carney bear management unit covers all Menominee county and parts of Dickinson, Marquette and Delta counties. Since I didn't know a soul there, public hunting land was going to be my only hope. To help narrow down the square miles of land to scout, I called one of the local DNR field offices to try and find out were I might find higher bear concentrations. I was told to call another field office that had a biologist working there that would be able to help me. (I'm being vague with names and towns here on purpose. I don't usually mention to people that I write a little and to use their names without asking isn't right. Any names used are fictional and for identification only.) When I called the biologist and told him my sad story he was eager to help. After giving me some places to start looking he also told me to check back before I started hunting because he may get a bear complaint. If he does, he asks the farmer or landowner if they'd be willing to allow a hunter on the property to try to get the bear. He also told me if all else failed he knew of a man, that for a small fee, might let me hunt one of his bait stations. This person didn't really guide much and the biologist wasn't sure if he'd even be interested, but he looked up his phone number and gave it to me. 

Well, at least I have a starting point, I thought, but the task of finding a spot and then trying to bait a bear seemed unlikely. I had one week of vacation time to use for bear hunting, but I would need that time to actually hunt. The five or six hour drive to the western UP from my home wouldn't allow me to keep up a bait station. I decided to call the phone number given to me by the biologist to see if it was an option.

I left a message on Jack's phone machine and hoped he'd at least call me back, one way or the other. In my message I mentioned the biologist that referred me to him and briefly described my problem. (After hunting with him for the week, I asked him what had convinced him to help me and let me hunt at his camp. He told me that before he returned my first call, he spoke to the biologist to verify my story and only then decided to talk to me. He also told me that he'd been in a few jambs himself and was happy to be able to help.) 

Jack called me the following day and explained what he could offer to me. His hunting camp consisted of 320 acres, which he shared with five other hunters for deer hunting. Some public land bordered theirs and three of his four bait stations were actually on this public land. Michigan rules permit up to three bait stations per hunter. He told me that three other hunters would be there for the first hunt before I would have a chance. They included his daughter, another member of the camp and a hunter which had paid him to hunt in the past. Hunting almost two weeks after all of these people had tried their luck made my chances seem unlikely, but it was the best thing I could come up with. 

In our first phone conversation, Jack told me he only had two rules in bear camp. First, "bears and booze don't mix". I agreed with this. Secondly, "I only track one bear for you. If you draw blood and we don't find the bear, you killed one as far as I'm concerned." Not knowing who I was or what shooting experience I had, this was a reasonable rule to me. In total agreement with each other, Jack told me to call back the week before I was coming to get the report on how the hunting was going and to make our final plans. He gave me the name of a motel to stay at and I made reservations right after I hung up with him.

At least I have a chance to hunt. It would have been a shame to draw a license and not even try. The two weeks of waiting finally passed and I gave Jack a call. He told me that his daughter had taken a nice 260# bear and the hunter from down state had taken a smaller boar, but he shot it with his bow and was thrilled. The other member from camp had seen two bear opening evening, but choose to pass on the biggest one because of poor light conditions. Nobody wants to track a wounded bear in the thick stuff and although he made the right choice, he hadn't seen another bear since and was hunting some evenings after work. So, I would have three places to sit and the other member would be hunting occasionally, too.

My hunt period began on Tuesday the 25th of September. I planned to take the entire week off from work and use Tuesday as my traveling day because Jack needed to work that day, but had taken the rest of the week off to be in camp. Monday morning came and I started getting my gear together. As I loaded it into my truck I wished I could leave right away. Why not go? I could stay in Naubinway over night and shorten my drive the next day. The sportsman's club I belong to has small cabins on Millecoquins Lake to stay in and it would put me in the U.P. that night. The rifle and ammo went into the truck last and I scribbled a quick note for my wife telling her I just couldn't stand it and had to head for the woods. After being married to me for 25 years, this last minute change in plans wouldn't surprise her. I pointed the truck north and left.

Jack and I planned to meet Tuesday night at my motel room to make the last minute plans to hunt in the morning. I made it to Naubinway just before dark Monday evening. The anticipation of my hunt was just the topping to the pleasure of being "back where I belong", as Ted's song says. With one of the cabin's windows opened, I sat at the table soaking in the night sounds and crisp September air; very contented in doing nothing else. It was inspiring.

Creative writing is a strange passion for me and I never know when the urge to try to put something down in words will strike me. I can sit and write an article or story almost at will, but the results sometimes appear almost "diagram-like" to me with nothing more than information being passed. But, then there are times when I experience a wisp of something that I want to capture and "paint" with words. It always comes to me in a rush and I struggle like a stuttering child to put it down on paper fast enough to seize it. This is what I scribbled down that night:

I revel in my solitude and yet, crave a kindred soul that hears what I hear and feels the same as I. Why does a loon cry out from the lake at 10:15, when all is dark? 
A coyote sings and geese harr-onk under a star filled sky and a three quarter moon.  We all should be sleeping, but do not. Winter's cold edge lightly brushes the back of our necks and killing frost will soon dampen summer's green to brown, sage and gray.  I think autumn has arrived tonight. 

The next morning, I shot my rifle at our club's range just to check the scope one more time. I'd shot it just a few days before, but if you have the time it can't hurt. Jack had told me the bait stations were about 60-70 yards from the blinds. I set up targets at 50 and 100 yards. I was using my 7mm Remington Mag. for this hunt. Ammunition was Federal Premiums in 165 gr. boat tail soft points. This is the round my Browning A-Bolt seems to shoot the best and I use them for deer. The rifle proved to be shooting right on and I packed it up and drove west, headed for bear camp.

(Read Part 2 Here)