I’ve been hunting during the November deer season in Minnesota for two years running now. I’ve driven out to a remote cabin heated only by a wood-burning stove. I’ve selected layers upon layers upon hand and foot warmers upon hats and gloves upon all other manner of winter weather gear for the subzero temperatures. I’ve risen far before the dawn to vacuum a breakfast off my plate, dress in the aforementioned accouterments, and stumble out into the dark. I’ve loaded a muzzleloader by the light of a headlamp and confirmed my readiness. I’ve sat completely still for hours just for a glimpse of a viable, in-range target. I still haven’t fired a shot, though. Not one. Continue reading “On Hunting – Bryn Homuth”
The Bear that Wouldn’t Die
Jeff Dixon, 1980
Minnesota bear season opens the first week in September. My buddy Mark and I started north three days before opening day. We arrived in Big Falls around noon at the campground that seven of us had stayed the season before.
We went and put out my bait, which consisted of meat scraps, smoked bacon rinds, half rotten apples, ground corn, molasses, and marshmallows under one of the stands we used the previous year. There was good sign there, like oak trees with the branches broken off from the bears trying to get the acorns, bear droppings, etc.
After my bait was set and we had our camp all set up we went to the local dump to see if we could spot any bears coming into rummage through the garbage for something to eat. That afternoon we had seen a couple of nice bears – almost 250 pounders.
We slept in the next morning and went out to build our tree stands by my bait. When we arrived we were surprised by one of the largest black bears I have ever seen. Its head was as large as a bushel basket. I estimated it to weigh over 400 pounds. It was a large sow. Quietly we left so that we would not spook her so that when season came, she might come around again when I’d be ready for her.