Thursday, Sept. 24 High 67, Low 51

Today would be our last day of this adventure. It was supposed to end yesterday as Michelle is supposed to be to work at her job as an ICU nurse, but she got a coworker to cover for her until midnight. Two days ago, we had our first daytime hit at one of our five baits in 33 days.

In simple terms, we do five hikes into the woods carrying a five-gallon bucket of granola to a place where we have a hollow stump with a cover on it. In most cases, a bear has consumed the bait. We have trail cameras at each bait and, until Tuesday, every hit had been after dark.

We are camped in the Meadow Valley Wildlife Area and camp is a blast. Every night we have a fire, listen to music, cook food and have a skunk that wanders among us. There are dozens of mice and I put out a trap which is a bucket with water in part of it. I put peanut butter in it just far enough below the top so when the mouse tries to eat it he or she falls into the water. A stick leading up the bucket is their ladder. Two nights ago, I caught seven.

I do not have a tag, but I sit in a portable tree stand next to Michelle. We are 15 feet off the ground and, let me tell you, I am impressed that come dark she has it in her to take her safety harness off and climb down the tree. It is not as simple as it may sound.

Every night we watch raccoons, skunks and porcupines do everything that they can to take the cover and logs off the stump to get the granola. The raccoons pull with their powerful arms. The porcupines attempt to chew through the stump. The skunks hope the coon or porkie opens it up.

The worst daytime pests are pine squirrels. They never give up and there are a million of them. There is always a dominant pine squirrel and it is very mean to its underlings.

Michelle and I are literally mentally and physically toast but, in reality, we’re just a few days rest away from being much stronger for our efforts.

Last week I mentioned how we had been watching deer and turkeys by the gazillion this summer and they literally did not seem scared of us. Like a light switch that has changed since several hunting seasons have opened, the “summer of love” has ended.

Every night at sunset when we are done hunting, and this has always been the case for me in all forms of hunting, we have the walk back to the truck or camp and, in some cases, canoe or boat ride.

I honestly believe that in my 48 seasons of hunting this may be my guaranteed to happen favorite part of the hunt. There is generally enough light to kind of see and it is very cool to reflect on the hunt and look forward to camp.

Our hunt has been over for a week. The following day I went on a canoe trip/duck hunt, and Michelle went back to tending to patients at her hospital. Since returning home I have had friends and family say that they just do not think it is worth 107 days of kicking your own ass to do this.

Here is what I have to say. I hope I get a tag next year. Michelle also wants to hunt next year. We came up with a better plan to possibly win the game with nocturnal bears. Some people golf, some people are really into sports. Some folks are bass whackers.

I hunt bears.

Already excited! Sunset