My First Bear Hunt

Before night falls, a shadow emerges from the cedars. It’s moving at a slow, lumbering pace, cautiously approaching the bait. I’ve stayed upwind, but the bear still seems to know that he’s not alone. I try to stay calm and steady, but the moment (and the large predator only a few paces away) makes my legs tremble. I want him completely relaxed before I draw my bow. A nerve-wracking moment.

My first bear hunt is the hunt my mind revisits most. The early Michigan fall landscape. The smell of the damp leaves and rotting acorns. The way the bears moved through the woods. I also remember the conversations leading up to it.

“Why would you kill a bear? They’re so cute!”

“You won’t even be eating the meat!”