After months of scouting and weeks of tending baits, the greatly anticipated morning had finally arrived. We headed to the boat crossing to meet our Tennessee hunters as they came to the end of their long 25 hour drive and the starting point of hunting the Nova Scotian black bear. Pulling in behind our pickup, these boys of the south jumped out of their Chevy Suburban with deep chuckles and grins miles wide. With a hearty shaking of hands and a bear hug from Doyle, Trapper, my husband and hunting guide was left gasping for air and a few sore ribs. Doyle had hunted with us in 2005 and from that time forward had become an instant hunting brother. I sat in the cab and watched as I felt the meeting of hunter and guide should be one with few interruptions. After a few minutes of excited conversation laced in rich southern drawl, the camo-clad group of men jumped back in their heavy-laden vehicle full of hunting gear and followed us through town and then down the dusty roads to camp.
We pulled up to the rustic cabin nestled in the woods by a little lake with waves gently lapping at its grassy banks. A pair of loons called a wild greeting to our American guests. These feathered friends would continue to sing their primitive song while fishing the lake they shared with us all week. Off in the woods just a bit was the bathroom facilities, a two-seater outhouse that became better know as the "Sugar Shack."
Tony, Bruce, Sam, and Doyle, our hunting party of four, stretched their legs and began to unpack for a week worthy of much remembrance. First order of business after settling in and claiming bunks, was filling hungry bellies and then a good night sleep. The next morning consisted of the paperwork and licenses being obtained from the local DNR office which went without a hitch. Off to the baits for selection of the evenings hunt locations and a refreshing of the "goody" piles. After a quick lunch, everyone was delivered to their sites and in stand by 4:00 p.m. . . . ready for the hunt.
Trapper was no more back on the step of home base when he received a call from Doyle.
"I got HIM!" he bellowed.
Back in the truck we go and I haul in my leg and got the door shut just in the nick of time to hold on as he barrels out en route to Doyle's stand. It was a ride nothing short from a scene of "The Fast and The Furious," and I know not how we made it there without surely ending in a fiery crash. Running to keep up with Trapper once we came to a rolling stop, we head in the woods to where a very happy Doyle is standing over his bear talking on his cell phone.
"Tony's got a bear too!" beams Doyle as we stop short at the sight of a gorgeous boar bear. All 355 pounds of him. Doyle took this bear with his late fathers 300 magnum and the bear expired a mere 20 yards from the site in a little mossy hollow. We attempted to move the bear onto the game cart, but could not maneuver this black bear that rolled like a big sac of Jell-0. We would need to go for help. They later would come back with the brawn of the entire hunting party. On the walk out, he fills us in on how the hunt unfolded. A smaller bear, more than 200 pounds, had circled behind him, but didn't present Doyle with an ethical shot. As he once again looked back to the site, Doyle saw what the smaller bear had been so leery of. The boss of that bear country, all big and bad stood broadside while he raised his gun. With no hesitation, he took the trophy he had waited 10 long years for.

Back on the road again, it soon became apparent that I had to be dumped out at camp to make room, as the truck would soon fill up with hunters and bears. I was way too excited for everyone to feel sorry for myself, but how would I ever stand the suspense? I built myself a campfire for company and warmth, and sat by the lake as the sun settled behind the tree line and waited . . . with a silly grin on my face. This was the moment where all of Trapper's hard work had started to pay off. A guides hopeful dream unfolding to sweet reality.

Trapper, Doyle, and our son went on to Tony who was at a stand over looking a forest floor of ferns and hardwoods. There is an astonishing maze of bear trails in there amongst the ferns. As they reach Tony, they soon find out that Bruce has called him to report he had a bear down as well. What a long night this was going to be!

Tony was hunting with his bow, on his first bear hunt, and up until putting his sights on this bear, had never even seen a bear in the wild. He had watched this bear for an adequate amount of time to be sure it was alone. He placed a great shot on this 231 pound dry sow, coat thick, shiny and black as night. What a beauty of a bear. Between the four of them they were able to get her half way to the truck. Locking in the hubs, Trapper was able to come in far enough to put it in the truck bed and bring it the rest of the way out. One bear on board!

By now, it is near dusk and Bruce is waiting on Trapper to fetch him out. He told us later that while waiting in his stand, after releasing the fatal arrow, he indeed had heard the bear fall over yonder. Then not 20 minutes later, another bear came into the site. It smelled the air timidly, turned tail, and crashed back down the trail it came from as quickly as it had appeared. It is a marvel just how quiet these bears can be when coming in. You often see them before you hear them as was witnessed by all hunters that night. But when they decide they want to get out of the area fast, they sound like a bull dozer crashing through the trees. A sound one is not quick to forget.

With darkness hampering the tracking and recovery of Bruce's bear, they wisely decide to pick up Sam, still on stand, and retrieve Doyles bear. Two bears on board!! Bruce hunted with a bow as well, and like Tony had never seen a wild black bear before. Bruce claimed his bear was not "all that big" and the one that came in after and bolted was much bigger. The next morning proved Bruce's bear to be a shocking 315 pound boar! Bears are so hard to judge in the field, but Bruce's turned out to be a very nice trophy. He did us proud and made an exceptional shot and recovery was under 30 yards. Imagine the size of the one that visited the site after the shot! Three bears on board!!!

Sam did not tag out that night with the others, but the twinkle in his eye as he helped with the hard labor of getting the bears out of the woods showed his true sportsmanship. His enthusiasm matched that of the entire hunting group. With three hunters filling tags on their first night of the hunt, this left Sam and Trapper alone against the bears. Hunter and guide against beast...a battle between men and pure wild instinct. Who will outsmart who? It got personal as trail cams showed good bears at sites where Sam was not, same times too. He had free choice of whichever of our six stands he wished, all still active. Sam hunted hard, long hours, in all weather conditions. He made stand choices based on Nova Scotia's changing wind directions, guiding advice and carefully interpreted bear sign. Being a well seasoned big game hunter himself, he made good decisions. Decisions even the best of experienced bear hunters would have made. As we all have said at one time or another . . . this is why it's called hunting. No one can predict the behavior of a wild animal, something he well knew and spoke of often. To our dismay, Sam did not go home with a Nova Scotian black bear under his belt, but was able to see a bear in the wild on one of his last sits on stand. The bear came in alone, snatched up what he wanted and disappeared into the dense cover. The bear returned more than once, and though Sam(a bow hunter) said he could have let an arrow fly, he chose not to. Sam showed true respect for the great animal he hunted and because he was not 100% sure of the shot, he did not take it. You need not always bag a trophy to enjoy the hunt as Sam is a true witness to.
He told tales each night of watching other native wildlife around the stand and how they had amused him. He insisted he was enjoying each hunt and stated, "taking a bear was just a bonus." He traveled with Trapper in the back country as they waged war on the bears during the last couple days of the hunt. Sam spoke time and time again, how he loved just being "out there" seeing our forest and wilderness. I was with them one morning when we saw a pretty doe cross the trail just ahead. He marveled at the size of her that we took for granted as average. As in his home state, most bucks don't get as big as that doe was.

So there we have the statistics on the bears. All four hunters sighted bears and three tagged out under three hours on stand. However, everyone went home with much, much more. Memories and new friendships that will surely last a lifetime. They have all booked for hunts in 2009.
They were a wonderful crew of fellows that loved to act the fool and have a good time. Every evening laughter echoed clear across the lake. Local friends and fellow hunters darkened the camp doorway and were quickly welcomed inside as stories were retold over and over again. Tony was the keeper of fires and kept the camp stove and outside roasting fire pit lit and well fueled. Bruce, also a taxidermist, was a fun loving "kid at heart" and was instantly chosen by our children as a playmate. He gave them thrilling rides around the camp yard on the game cart while squeals of delight filled the air. I had heard rumors that the big boys had took turns in the cart as well. If I could only find those pictures! Doyle, Trappers long distance best friend of many years, was a teller of funny stories and kept us entertained with recounts of his nightmarish combats against a red squirrel trying to share his bunk when the lights went out at night. He feared it was gathering nuts for the harsh Canadian winter ahead. He slept with a boat paddle the remainder of his stay . . . just in case. He claimed our black bears, as big and menacing as they are, had nothing on our savage predatory nut gathering squirrels.

Sam, the quiet one and as strong as a bear himself, suffered good hearted teasing over his requirement to eat six times a day. We joked when Trapper cooked up a "bacon burn" at a site for him, that Sam would take his bear single-handedly and without weapon if it were to come in and try to take that crispy bacon, as it sure did smell mighty fine. There is little doubt in my mind that he could most certainly do just that.

As camp cook and guide wanna-be, I felt lucky to be involved as much as traveling accommodations and cooking duties permitted. I was blessed to experience the thrill of the hunts through them and I must thank Trapper and our friends for including me in their quests for a bear. I hope to join the guiding profession myself one day soon. Being true gentlemen of the woods and beyond, I was treated to a fine dinner out at a nice restaurant on their last evening here. The customary ritual of the "signing of the guides hat" took place as they talked and joked well into the night. All have decided to do full body mounts of their coveted bear hides. They will be beautiful mounts prepared for them by Bruce himself. All three hides were lush carpets of thick soft blue black fur.