Bear Attack! – Nearly Mauled

by Rod Davis

One hour before dusk, the small bear made his way into the tiny clearing in the North Maine Woods and with no small degree of caution, tipped over the bait barrel. The smell of chocolate bars and slurry of peanut butter was just more than he could stand.

It was the last night of an eventful week at bear camp at the Libby Camps’ location on Lake Millinocket. I had seen a total of nine bears this week, none that I could shoot, and this little guy, a two year old, would make a nice small rug for the hunting cabin back in West Virginia. He looked to be about 100+ lbs and while I would have preferred about 50-60 more lbs on him, it was after all, the last night and there were no guarantees that a larger bear would show up before the end of legal shooting hours.

The temperatures in Maine had been near 90 all week, making for poor bear hunting, anyway.

While finding him in my scope, he looked up and made me. He looked right at me and I saw him bristle. I knew it was now or never so I sent a 300 grain .450 Marlin slug on its way, deep into the center of his chest. The bear flipped over backwards and I sent another bullet while he struggled to get up.

He managed to get to his feet and tumbled over a bank into the thick Maine brush. I could see the brush moving and the bear grunting and gurgling 10 feet behind the clearing. This went on for several minutes and the bear just stayed right there. Over a 15 minute period, the gurgling and occasional brush shaking continued, just out of sight, behind the clearing. I figured he was bleeding out and he would be dead soon.

I am at this point still 16 feet up a tree, 20 yards uphill from the clearing. I pulled a 9mm handgun from my pack, and fired three shots in the air, to alert the guides that I had a bear down. In a few minutes I heard a truck coming and stop. I heard, and then saw the guide coming up the trail. I yelled down that I indeed had shot a bear but was pretty sure he was still alive, and that the guide should approach with caution. He looked into the brush as I was climbing down from the stand and when I arrived by him, he said, “There’s no bear here. Where did he go?” Apparently the bear had got up and took off after I fired the three shots with the handgun. I was amazed he had taken the .450 slug and got up at all.

The guide went to his truck and returned with an old Spanish double barrel loaded with 00 Buckshot. In the gathering gloom, he took off with me limping behind him after the wounded bear. He got out 20 yards ahead. I was extra careful in the woods as I walk slowly and painfully after a shattered ankle injury in 2008. All at once I hear, “ BOOM…BOOM “ as the 12 gauge went off. After a couple of seconds, the guide yelled, “He’s still on his feet and I’m out of shells!”

I arrived to find the dying bear under a fallen log, unable to go another inch, but still very much alive. One 9mm from my Taurus Slim at the back of the skull ended his fight for survival. For a two year old, 100 lb bear, he was the toughest varmint in the North Maine Woods. It had taken quite a bit of lead to end his career. We wondered aloud, how many holes would have to be sewn up to make a rug from this little guy!

The hunt had ended, with a bear in the truck, but the week had started out even more exciting and nearly had turned into a tragedy:

On Monday evening, the bear opener in Maine, 2010, the guides from Libby’s had put me in a double ladder stand at a cross roads of two old logging roads that were grown up with vines and briers. Thirty yards from the stand was a barrel of sweet stuff to attract the bears. From this very stand, in 2006, I had watched a half grown cub put on quite a show digging around in the bait!

The stand was at the top of a short bank, and the ladder was only 5-6 feet off the ground. Libby had placed me in this stand, because since my fall and accident in 2008, that has left me crippled, I really don’t like to be too high up. For the next several hours, I saw nothing save a lone red squirrel that tried, and failed to climb the barrel at least a hundred times. It was growing dark and the guide that dropped me off at this stand site, called Transmission 2, had told me I would be the last one picked up, and not to be surprised if it was late.

Legal shooting hours ended at 7:44 pm, and we had been told to unload all weapons at this time. Since no Maine game Warden seemed to appear magically at this time, to protect me, from any, grouchy, possessive predators in the area, this was advice that I usually ignored.

Thank God…

At 8:00 pm, it was full and complete dark in the North Maine Woods. It was just pitch black. Nothing at all could be seen, but having done this many times, I felt fairly comfortable, even if a bear showed up at the bait. After a few minutes, I heard walking in the dry leaves directly behind me that was unmistakably a large animal; no doubt a bear. The noise continued until the animal stopped, directly to the right and UNDER my tree stand. I sat there and listened to the bear breathing, no more than 2-3 feet away from my own feet. I have to admit it…I lost my nerve. I couldn’t abide that situation for any longer, so at the risk of spooking the bears off that site for the foreseeable future, I quietly reached for, and turned on, my flashlight and looked down.

There looking back at me was a 75-80 lb yearling bear cub. He looked at me as if to say, “ Hey! Get that light out of my eyes”, but he never moved, just looked at me. Then I heard a noise and saw yet another…and then another bear cub behind me ten feet over my right shoulder, but on the ground. As I shined my light back and forth between them, the one standing at my feet, nonchalantly walked on out into the clearing and in a few seconds, I hear the bait barrel tip over as he began to have his dinner. Obviously, he was the brave one of the trio, as the other two, apparently unnerved by the guy with the light, began to panic. One ran around behind me and disappeared over to my left, into the thick brush and weeds. The other cub, decided he would feel much safer if he ran up a tree. So he ran right up the tree,…. that I was sitting in. He raced by me, in the dark, claws scratching the bark as he went by my head at a high rate of speed. He lodged himself in the forks of the tree, about 12 feet above my head.

This did not really upset me. I felt no threat from the little guy, as I could tell he was terrified of me. I began to chuckle at this turn of events but this lasted only a few minutes, or even less, as I began to realize that these three little guys probably had a mother nearby. I did not know that I was about to make her acquaintance in a very up-close and personal way…

After a few minutes, I became aware of a low, moaning noise, off to my left in the darkness, no more than 30-40 feet away. The little bear above me began to cry and whimper. The low moaning became deeper in sound and more urgent. I knew that Mama had arrived on the scene.

I became acutely aware that I was in a very, very bad place to be. I was six foot up a tree, standing at the top of a very short ladder, with a bear cub, just above my head, and his Mama was trying to get to him. If going through me or over me to get to him was required I had no doubt that she would do just that.

I kept trying to locate the mother bear with my LED flashlight, but could only see the bushes moving where she had begun to pace, and occasionally a flash of red eyes reflecting back. I was holding my Browning BLR .450 Marlin and became quickly convinced it was useless in a hand to paw fight with an angry bear in near total darkness.

By sheer force of will, I MADE myself not panic. I knew I was in trouble and there was just no way out of it. I surmised that if my flashlight batteries died, she would be on me, and I would never even see her coming up the ladder. Actually I was so near the ground, she could have stood on her hind legs and pulled me out of the stand with ease. I knew if I went down and lost my footing that she wouldn’t stop until she either killed me, or I was horribly mauled and maimed.

I thought of climbing down and trying to run to the road. Then I remembered I couldn’t run with my bad ankle, and figured she would outrun me anyway.

I have read many accounts of bear attacks and knew they rarely turn out well.

At this point I just began to speak aloud. I spoke to my Heavenly Father, who knew this bear better than me and asked Him to speak to her and to calm her heart. I spoke to the bear in a loud voice and told her to beat it. (she really didn’t seem to care what I thought).

She became increasing agitated and began to pace back and forth in front of me in the clearing and then in and out of the brush. While I was speaking to the bear, I had been reaching to my hip and retrieved my wife’s Taurus 9mm Semi-auto pistol. I had borrowed my wife’s gun for this trip because I didn’t want to carry my much larger gun into tree stands on this trip. I leaned my rifle against the sides of the stand and took my pistol with its 8 rounds, in my right hand and crossed my left hand over it holding the flashlight. I did not want to shoot this bear with a puny 9mm and wound her, further enraging her, unless I had no other choice. I figured if she charged and came up the ladder, I could maybe hit her in the head at no more than inches away…if I was fast enough.

So began the standoff. Whenever I saw her moving around, I would fire into the ground where I thought the bullet would hit near her. I did this 3 times over 15 minutes. As I continued to yell and shoot she became more and more agitated and started to pop her teeth; a classic sign of aggressive behavior among black bears.

My light, while still bright, began to slowly dim and fail. I knew I was running out of time. I pulled a 6” long glowstick, that I had bought days earlier on a whim, from my backpack, broke it and threw it in front of the stand on the ground. I hoped this would give me a little light, maybe enough to see the charge before it was too late to act. Unexpectedly, the strange green glow seemed to puzzle and calm the bear. The pacing, growling and teeth popping stopped for a minute. I looked all around with my light and saw yet another set of red eyes glowing, 40 yards up the hill and became aware of a Woofing sound.

I believe this was a boar showing up to see what the fuss was all about at his candy barrel. GREAT! Another, larger bear! Gladly he chose to stay where he was and watch the events unfolding.

I holstered my pistol, grabbed my rifle and fired twice into the air. This was not the “pop – pop” of the 9mm but the Howitzer- like Boom of the big .450 rifle. THAT backed her up a few steps and quieted her down even more.

After a couple minutes, I heard a truck coming down the gravel road at what was obviously a high rate of speed. They slid to a stop in the gravel and I heard doors being flung open 100 yards away, out on the road. I pulled my pistol again and fired once in the air, and yelled out, “Don’t come in here un-armed! There are 5 pissed off bears around!” I could then hear rifle and pistol actions slamming shut as guns were loaded. The guide came in, headlamp blazing, and I could see a big 44 Magnum pistol extended in front of him. My friend Lee and my new friend Dan at his heels locked and loaded.

Mama, Papa and the two cubs had enough. A quick retreat was made by the bears and an even quicker retreat was made to the truck by the hunters. My little friend in the tree was still there, when last I saw him, yelling for his Mama…

The next day, I didn’t go out hunting. I was still pretty unnerved. On the next day I went hunting, figuring if I didn’t I would lose my nerve forever. Close-up bear encounters require a small bit of nerve anyway. They put me in a tent-type ground blind and guess what showed up: A mother bear and two cubs.!

No further altercations took place, however! I love to bear hunt and will be going back, but I will always check out what’s up higher in the tree from now on.