Something I look forward to, almost as much as Christmas – bear season.

I was more than excited to get up to Kapuskasing this year – I mean, after all – I had finally tapped out with a bear the year before.  Steak is still in my freezer waiting to get mounted.

Kelly and I drove up together and it was quite the journey.  Don’t they say half the fun is getting there?  We were hopped up on energy drinks and junk food by the time we got to Kap.  We spent the first night around the fire with the Ohio boys and my cousins and enjoyed the finest of barley flavoured beverages.

We went out to check our trail cameras and see what the action was like on the baits.  Dad and I had some big bears on our bait.  Mom and Kelly had 2 small bears.  The baits were not getting hit nearly as hard as they were the year before, due to the berry crop we had. But ya can’t really blame ‘em.  Why would you eat old pastries when you could get fresh berries?

The second day Kelly shot her bear.  She weighed in around 150 lbs.  So we climbed down out of the stand to help Mom and Kelly get the bear out.  Kelly and I dragged that bear through the bush ourselves.  I think I did most of the work though.  Kelly goes to the gym, but she doesn’t know how to throw her weight around, and you pretty much have to do that to get these creatures out of the bush.  Have you ever tried dragging a bear?  It’s like dragging a bag of jell-o.  It gets caught on every little rock and twig.

Then our baits died. We had no action all week.  It was strangely reminiscent of the year Mom shot Big Fella.  Once the human scent was on the baits, the actions died down.  It made for some long sits in the stand, that’s for sure!

On the last day we decided to go out at noon and sit until 4:00 and then pull down all of our equipment and pack up.  At 3:00 I looked over my right shoulder and boom. Bear.  I elbowed Dad and pointed.  I turned on the GoPro camera and grabbed my bow.  And I didn’t do these things very slowly.  I got busted.  The bear was looking at me the whole time.  I should’ve w

Kelly & KasperMom & Jazz Red Rocket

aited for the bear to hit the bait and then slowly do all of these things.  But all I could think about was that this was the only bear we had seen all week… I was feeling the pressure.

The bear walked under our stands and back into the bush. He charged the tree once and then walked away.  I was choked.  I knew exactly why that bear buggered off. Me. And Dad knew it to.  I was hoping that through some divine intervention Kelly and Mom would have action on their bait in the next half hour.. or that the bear would come back in.

Not much later I received a text that Mom had shot a bear.  So Dad and I climbed down and helped them track the bear.

The bear actually ran 2 laps around the tree stand and then into the bush! So it was a funny blood trail.  We found the bear and it weighed in around 180lbs.

Yet again, due to my mistakes, my mom ends up tagging a bear before I do.

I always said, (after my 2009 Christmas Eve missed doe) that 2010 was going to be my year.

After an unsuccessful turkey hunt, the pressure was on to get a black bear.  My sister who has only started hunting had shot a bear the year before, and I was cheesed that she got one before me.  I needed to get a bear.  I quadruple checked to make sure I had both my Outdoors Card as well as my license.

Kelly and I drove up in the car separately from Mom and Dad.  The JUH Truck was filled with bait (expired doughnuts and such from the local bakery) which basically pushed us into the car.  On the way up, I remembered where the garbage dump was in a small town about 45 minutes from where we were staying.  Kelly and I pulled in to see if we could see any bears at it.  By golly did we ever.  There were 2 HUGE bears, with no fear of the car.  We drove within 30 yards of them and they were just sitting there…eating whatever it is dump bears eat..leftovers, diapers…  We took a few pictures and kept truckin’ up to our destination.  If bears that size were hitting our baits, we were in for some action!

The next night, Mom and I walked into our bait and waited. And waited. And waited.  I know being patient is a large part of hunting..and I don’t have that.  I fidget. And get bored.  It’s something I’m working on.

Finally a bear walks in and my heart starts pounding through my chest.  I nock an arrow and stand-up.  The bear knew that I was there, he kept looking up at me.  I took a shot at him and just grazed under it’s belly. He jumped 10-feet and stopped in the bush.  I was so choked! I missed my chance to get a bear!  The bear came back and rolled the bait barrel behind a tree, never offering me a chance to shoot him again.  I was so disappointed.  I was getting down on myself and was adamant that it was Mom’s time to hunt.  I had my chance.  Kelly gave me an Oscar-worthy pep talk and I was back in the stand the next night.

Dad had come in and cut down a few trees to stop the bears from rolling the barrel behind the tree.  This would give me more shooting opportunities.

After the 2 hour mark I was fidgeting.  I was tired, and 100% certain no bears were coming in.  I turned my head to the left and heard a small twig snap.  My eyes grew big.  I elbowed Mom and told her a bear was coming in on my left.  Usually when you hear something in the bush, it’s a squirrel or a bunny.  But my gut was telling me this was my redemption moment.

Sure enough, in walks a beaut of a bear.  It was the same size as the bear from the night before…or was it bigger? I tried not to think about it.  I kept whispering under my breath to myself, “hit the bait, hit the bait, hit the bait”.. I wanted the bear to feel comfortable before I took a shot.  I learned my lesson from the night before.  And what happens?

The friggen bear meanders right by the bait and kept walking! I was soooo bummed! I started shaking my head and was ready to give up on myself when I saw the bear do a complete 180 and start walking back towards the bait pile.  My heart stopped beating around then.

The bear kept trying to roll the barrel behind the tree, but the trees my dad cut down didn’t allow this to happen.  I stood up.  The bear was standing broadside with his front leg extended trying to pull the bait.  This was the moment I needed. I pulled my bow back and kept thinking to myself, “pick a spot, pick a spot, pick a spot” and I released.

This is the moment in the movie where Quentin Tarantino would slow everything down and turn it all into black and white.  My arrow raced through the air.  The fletching of my arrow slowly flowing with the air moving over it.  The nockturnal nock glowing red.  The destination was imminent, calculated.  It was destiny.

The arrow hit the bear, right tight behind the shoulder.  The bear growls and turns to bite the arrow and takes off running.  My tears start instantly.  Seconds later, the death moan is heard throughout the bush.  I’m crying.  I was so happy.  I turned and looked at Mom with pure joy on my face.  She was tearing up too.  I finally did it.

I get a BBM from my sister and all it read was “Nice shot!”  I called Corby and told him I finally got my bear.  I climbed down and took my hero pictures with the bear.  I knew what this bear’s name was.  It was Steak.  Dad rolled Steak over to see a fresh scar on it’s hide.  It was the bear I had nicked the night before.  It truly was destiny.

We brought Steak back to the hunt camp and celebrated with the Ohio boys.  Steak weighed 275 lbs and I was prouder than a peacock.  It was the proudest moment of my life. I was lucky to get this bear, and boy does he taste good!

My Prince - Steak

Twas a cold December 24th in the year of 2008.

The temperature was dropping as were my spirits.  My dad broke his back in October, (thankfully he wasn’t paralyzed) and this was his first hunting season back out in the field.  He was unable to hunt, so he came with me and filmed my first successful dear hunt.  That was the plan anyways.

Because of his broken back, and heels, and wrist, my dad was unable to climb a tree stand.  Me, being the loving daughter I am (and after a 6-foot-fall when I was 12 out of a tree stand, I am not a big fan of them to begin with) decided that we would hunt out of a ground blind.

The season had been pretty average, seeing deer just as legal shooting light was dwindling, and never having a shot opportunity.  As cool as it is to see deer, it might be more frustrating to see them but not have the opportunity to even draw back on them.

Christmas eve, a magical night…

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the bush

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The hunting blind was placed under the tree stand with care

In hopes that some bucks-n-does soon would be there.

Me & Dad were nestled all snug in the blind,

While visions of deer mounts danced in our minds.

And Dad in his camo, and I in my fleece,

Had just settled down for a cold hunting sleep.

When out in the bush I heard a light patter,

I opened my eyelids to see what was the matter.

I twisted my neck and looked out the blind,

Squinted my eyes to see what I could find.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a decent sized doe, this was my reindeer!

More rapid than eagles my heartbeat did beat,

And I brainstormed and thought of the delicious red meat;

Oh steak, and kabobs and jerky and burgers!

And venison and stir frys oh how my mouth watered!

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

The camera was ready, my heart made a bound.

She was dressed all in fur, from her head to her hoof,

I had to act quickly before she left with a poof.

I nocked my arrow and pulled back the string,

I clicked my release and the arrow did fling.

The arrow flew 3 feet over her head,

I swore quite loudly, as the deer wasn’t dead.

Behind the camera, my father did sigh,

And I rubbed tears of frustration from my eye.

“You didn’t pick a spot,” my father told me,

“You looked at the whole deer, classic hunter’s anxiety.”

We packed up our stuff and headed for home,

I felt so tiny, not much taller than a gnome.

When I got home I opened a beer,

And I told the story, of my Christmas Eve deer.

I have yet to shoot a Huron County doe,

But I promise my story will be here, and you’ll know.

As a moral or two for the reader to jot,

Don’t just aim at the game – pick a spot!

This is quite possibly the most ridiculous of my unlucky hunts.

My roomie and I are huge country fans, and she told me about this extreme country concert, Havelock Jamboree.  She goes every year and I decided to go with her one summer.  So I bought my ticket and went to Havelock.  I had a fricken hoot.  It was a concert I will never forget (my girl Loretta Lynn was there!)

Before I left for Havelock, dad asked me “Erica, do you have your outdoors card” (because I was supposed to stop in Temagami and buy a bear license on my way up).  I rolled my eyes and said “YESSSSSS – I’m not stupid” and got in the car and drove to Havelock.

On my bagillion hour drive up to Kapuskasing, the only thing keeping me awake was my excitement.  I love bear hunting, ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper and my dad took me out bear baiting.  I don’t know what it is, but bear hunting is such a thrill.  Maybe it’s the fact that killing a bear suddenly moves you to the top of the Northern Ontario food chain, or the thought that the animal a mere 15 yards from you could rip you to pieces, but I love it.

I finally see the parking lot for Dad’s Shop in Temagami and pull in.  I grab my wallet and go into the store.

The old fella behind the counter (with few teeth) asked me what I needed and I proudly said, “I need to buy a bear license.”  He reached behind the counter and grabbed his notebook and license and asked for my Outdoors Card.  Prouder than a Peacock I open my wallet and watch the metaphorical moths fly out.

My Outdoors card is not in my wallet.  I search around for it and can’t find it.  Shoot.  Then I can see clear as day where it is.  It’s in my turkey hunting jacket.  Which is hanging on the back of my bedroom door.  At home. Hours away.  My heart sank into the depth of my bowels.  I was driving a bagillion kilometers to go hunting, and didn’t nay, couldn’t buy a license.

I called mom and dad and after some colourful language, dad said I would just have to go to the ministry in Kap and buy one…But it was Sunday – so I would have to wait until Monday to buy it.  No big deal.  Instead of hunting tonight, I would film mom hunt and then the next day she would film me when I had my license.

Now in my history of hunting experience, typically I don’t see much.  So I wasn’t too choked up about missing one night of hunting.  So as I come into Smooth Rock Falls I make the call and meet my parents and sister at our “hot spot.”  I changed into my huntin’ gear and climbed into the ol F-150.

We drove to the hot spot and mom and I climbed into our stands.  We did a few narrations with the video camera, and I text my sister for updates.  Not too much action on our end, but Kelly and Dad walked in to their bait and there were 2 bears on it!

And suddenly all was quiet.  Mom elbowed me and said she heard a bear.  I tucked my ol’ flip phone away and was ready behind the camera.  It was pure movie magic.  I saw the shadow of the bear first.  Long and black against the thick bush.  Then one paw.  Then the other.  A snout, sniffing the air.  The head turned and looked right at us.  He knew we were there.  As he walked to the bait I started thinking, “Shit. That’s a big mother effer.”  The bears gut was mere inches from the ground.  This bear was a monster.

I looked down at mom and her chest was pumping.  She knew it too.  She calmly drew back her bow and smoked the bear right tight behind the shoulders.  It all happened within 4 minutes.  The bear ran and dropped within 70 yards of the bait.

Mom turned to me and I had a huge smile on my face.  Her eyes were wide.  ”That’s a big fuckin bear,” she said.  We started talking about how big we thought it was.  Growing up in a family with experience not only hunting bears, but guiding as well, I knew that people notoriously over estimate the weight of the bear.  So I was guessing it was 400lbs, I knew it was big.  We called Kelly and Dad and said we needed bear back-up.   Mom and I weren’t going to be able to pull it out by ourselves.

Dad and Kelly came over and Mom and I climbed down and started tracking the bear.  It wasn’t hard it find.  It was a mountain of black fur.  Dad kept saying “Nice bear!” over and over again.  He knew it was big too.

Mom couldn’t hold it’s head up for pictures.

We couldn’t drag it out. With all 4 of us pulling.

The bear seemed to be getting bigger and bigger the more we handled it.

Uncle Ron came out with a quad and a winch.  The bear broke the winch.

When we got it to the boathouse back at Uncle Ron’s, all the other hunters came down to see it.  It took 6 men of 250lbs + to get it out of the truck and into the boathouse.  Everyone started guessing weight.  Nobody was prepared for what the scale would read.

As the bear was being hoisted up, the roof beams started to buckle.  The bear was lifted off the ground with only a centimeter to spare.  The scale read 706lbs.  An Ontario record for a bear harvested by a woman with a bow.

We all celebrated the monster kill.  Then it set in.  That should’ve been my bear.  Had I double checked to make sure I had my Outdoors card, I would’ve shot this bear.  It’s something that I will never live down, but something I am proud to be a part of.

Needless to say, I always double check to make sure I have my Outdoors card on me. At all times.

The Big Fella.

Me and the newest member of the Just Us Hunting crew; Daphne Labelle

Well my 2011 turkey hunt was no different from any others.  I finished the season turkey-less.  However this season might have been more heart breaking than the past seasons…

On our annual Omemee turkey hunt I typically hunt with my sister, I am behind the bow and she is behind the camera.  But my sister was in Japan this year for school, leaving me to fly solo.

When we first pulled into Omemee, we stopped at Richard McQuaid’s house to pick up a blind for me to use and a decoy.  Dad recently purchased a strutting tom decoy and Richard gave him an authentic tail and wings to make the decoy look more realistic.  We piled into the truck and went to the camp (the same ghastly shack I’ve mentioned before, with heat, electricity, running water and hardwood floors).

After unpacking and setting up our blinds, Richard came over to enjoy some 40 Creek.  He said he had a hot-spot that he hasn’t hunted and he wanted to take someone there.  I was lucky enough to be offered the opportunity to hunt there with Richard filming and calling.  I was excited to hunt with Richard, he is a close family friend and an all-around great guy (plus this way I had a fighting chance if he was calling for me…my turkey call is a little rough around the edges to say the least).  So Richard told me to be ready at 4:30 a.m and he would pick me up to go to the newest hot-spot.

I set my alarm for 3:45 a.m so I would be ready to go when Richard came.  I brewed some coffee and stumbled upstairs to wake-up the rest of the crew (who I later found out went to bed at 3:00 a.m).  I came downstairs and saw the headlights of McQuaid’s truck pulling into the driveway.  I hadn’t even had a coffee!  I threw on my rubber boots, grabbed my bow and jumped into the truck.

Richard was frantic, “Those guys better get up! The sun is rising!”  I looked through the truck window to see the moon still out.  No Richard, that’s moonlight.  SO we walked into the blind with the light of the moon guiding us.

We settled into the corner of a field and waited for the bush to start waking up.  The birds started chirping, the deer were frolicking but the turkeys were not calling.  Richard gave a quiet few scratches on his slate call and suddenly the bush erupted with hens!  They were squawking, chucking and yelping to their hearts content.  But no gobbles.  We must have walked in right under where they were roosted!  It was a good sign, at least there were turkeys in this bush.  And typically where there are hens, there are toms.

We heard a few gobblers that morning but they sounded far away.  My turkey guide extraordinaire took a nap, and I sat with my eyes peeled waiting for the first sign of a strutter.  Turkeys are notorious for suddenly just popping up in front of you, and I did not want not get caught with my pants down…figuratively speaking.

Suddenly there was a gobble behind us and McQuaid’s eyes popped open.  He motioned behind me and said, “It sounds like it’s getting closer.”  How he knew that with his eyes closed and the drool coming down his face, I don’t know.

He peaked out the window and motioned that there was a tom right beside the blind!  He frantically turned on the camera and motioned for me to get my bow ready.  ”Hurry up!” he whispered as I nocked my bow and waited to see the bird.

It was like something out of a horror movie.  First I saw the shadow of a massive tom on the ground and suddenly, he was beside the decoy, puffed up and looking for a fight.  It circled the decoy and McQuaid’s eyes were the size of saucers.  ”Shoot it!  Do it!  Do it now!  Shoot that thing!”  he whispered with excitement.  I drew back my bow and took aim.  I came up from the legs and picked a feather. (Turkey fact for the day, if you shoot up from the legs, then even if you hit low, the bird can’t fly away.  And since the legs are dark meat, the bird will bleed out faster than if you hit it in the breast which often results in the bird escaping with no fatal damage).

I slowly pulled on my release trigger and WUBAM! The birds took off clucking and McQuaid and I were left in shock.  Where did my arrow go?  I found the vanes and top 4 inches of my arrow in the blind, so McQuaid and I searched ourselves for the rest of the arrow, did it ricashay and hit us?  We were unscathed, but the blind wasn’t.  I had hit the fiber glass window frame of the blind, causing my arrow to veer  in the complete opposite direction of the bird.  When you watch the film, it actually sounds like a shotgun went off in the blind.

McQuaid felt horrible.  I however was laughing.  It was just my luck that the tom should come in and run away scott free.  McQuaid couldn’t believe my luck.  I was laughing and cussing and laughing.  The best part is when you’re in the Just Us Hunting crew and you have a complete miss at an animal, everyone back at camp gets to take a shot at the hat you were wearing from the distance you missed.  I was wearing my dad’s hat.

So yet another season, where I was so close yet so far from getting my first bird.

Remember, if you think you’ve had a stretch of bad luck, mine’s even longer.

It was 3 years ago that I went on my very first turkey hunt.

I took the turkey hunting course in St.Catherines, while I was going to Brock University, and I was keen to get out in the blind and call in a big ol’ tom.  I have a peep sight on my bow, and the rubber tubing (we call it snot sucker around our house) that connects the sight to the string was broken and we didn’t have any more.  So dad replaced it with some dental floss, until we could get some more.  I had shot with it at home and every so often the dental floss would get tangled and I would have to play around with it before my next shot.  But so long as I was careful, it wasn’t an issue.

Kelly, my dad and myself along with John Van Loo, Garry Labelle and Marcel Aube all went to Omemee to stay the weekend at our friend Richard McQuaid’s hunt camp. Now when I say hunt camp, I don’t mean a one man shack with pots in every corner to catch the rain, a Coleman stove for cooking and an oil lamp for lighting.  I mean a full blown log cabin, with heat, electricity, running hot water and a view to kill for.  Oh yeah – we were roughin’ it.

Kelly and I were hunting out of an old shack in a gully in a field a short distance from the camp.  Kelly was video taping and I was behind the bow.  We were dropped off by Garry and John that morning at 4:45am. (Turkey hunting has the ordeal of waking up at 4:00am to get to the blind before the birds fly down off the roost. Yes. Turkeys sleep in trees. Which is creepy).  SO after driving around the field for awhile (Garry couldn’t find the shack..however he said “You can’t miss it” the night before..bahaha!) we finally found the shack and Kelly and I set up for our first morning hunt.

We set up the decoys, using a flashlight…which we shouldn’t have done because it would spook the birds.  We did some quick narrations and started calling.  Again, we shouldn’t have started calling so early since the entirebush was still sleeping…but we didn’t know any better.

I drew my bow back 3 times to make sure the dental floss on my bow didn’t tangle.  Everything seemed perfect and in right working order.  I was ready to shoot a big bird and show it off back at the camp.

At 5:30am, when the bush started to wake up – we heard gobblers.  Ours eyes widened with our smiles and we were super stoked to shoot a turkey.  Every time the turkeys gobbled, we responded sending them into a tail spin of gobbles.  We were so excited!  This would be our first time seeing a wild turkey up close and personal.

2 hens flew out of the roost right above our shack and hung around our decoy for a long time.  Just puttin’ and purrin’.

At 6:00am I looked through the doorless door and my eyes grew even wider (was that possible?)  I tapped Kelly and she spun the camera around just in time to see 3 honkin boss toms come running down the hill toward our hen decoy!

I picked my bow up and was ready for action…

The 3 toms went straight to the decoy and stood broadside just asking to be quilled.  My sister gave me the nod, she had the tom in her sights, and so did I…but when I looked through my peep sight, it was twisted! The dental floss had tangled when I drew my bow back!!  I put my bow down and started to detangle the floss.  In the footage you can actually hear me cussing and fussing over the floss.  Then my arrow fell off the string and clanged on the shack floor.  By the time I was fully loaded and ready to rock again, the 3 toms followed the 2 hottie hens into the bush.

We gave some pathetic attempts at trying to call them back in…but they were long gone.

I was rattled and called mom right away.  I told the guys back at camp the story and in true Just Us Hunting fashion, we had a good laugh at both mine and my dad’s expense..

The real kicker?  One of the guys had extra snot sucker in his tackle box the whole time. So the whole situation could’ve been avoided.  But alas – that’s just my luck!

it's a shame - he couldn't even afford drywall!

I have the absolute worst luck.

And I’m not talkin about winning the lottery luck, I’m talkin about hunting.

I grew up in an outdoors family.  My dad hunts, fishes and he used to own a trap line as well.  So needless to say, I also fish, hunt and I spent weekends out on the trap line too.  Mosquitoes and black flies were considered the annoying cousins to my family, and bug spray was the perfume of Northern Ontario.

My family shoots bows.  Typically when I tell people that my family hunts, they assume we shoot guns.  But I’ve never shot a gun in my life – and I don’t particularly care to try.  I respect those who hunt with guns, and I get really frustrated sometimes because I think it would be so much easier to shoot something with a gun.  But archery is where my heart is, so I stick with it.  Through thick and thin. Through luck…or lack thereof.

When my sister Kelly and I were old enough to take the Hunter’s Apprenticeship Course, we were so excited! Finally I was able to join my dad on his hunting trips.  However the entire course was based around gun rules and regulations.  Being an archery family my sister and I were very confused.  We jotted down pages and pages of notes every night.  When we took our test, we both failed.  We had no clue what we were doing when it came to guns.  Actually, I failed my test because the instructor asked me to hand him a gun.  I looked at the table of guns and looked at him.  Like, how lazy can a guy get?  The guns were 2 feet away. Pick it up yourself.  So after I raised an eyebrow at him, I picked up a gun and put it in his hands.  I didn’t check to see if it was loaded, like you’re supposed to do.  So I failed a test for the first time in my life.  I think this might have been the beginning of my bad luck.

I regularly hunt turkey, black bear and whitetail deer.  I have been hunting for 11 years. I have successfully shot 1 black bear.  But I have countless stories of bad luck.  I’ve learned to laugh off the circumstances I have encountered.  Where I used to get frustrated, I just grin and bear it.  It’s part of the adventure, and when I finally shoot my first deer, turkey, elk, caribou or squirrel – it will all be worth it.  This is my blog documenting all of the crazy bad luck I have.

Hope everyone has a laugh at my expense.

And remember; when you think you’re down on your luck – just think…Critter probably has it worse