Chapter Seven

Brownie

Early the next morning they pulled anchor and cruised on down the channel. The place Old Horton was heading for was one of dozens of small bays on Admiralty Island. Long known as the home of some of the worlds largest brown bears. Feeding on the islands rich salmon runs as well as hundreds of black tailed deer the bears were definitely well fed.

Covered in thick forests of spruce and hemlock, the ground was completely coated in deep moss, devils club and blueberries. Hidden by fog and light rain most of the time it is a primeval sight, a place of mystery. This is where the four men came to hunt the giant bears.

Since it took the morning to run to the next area that Old Horton had in mind the group spent a few quiet hours watching the scenery go by. Around mid day they glided into a small inlet with a large, fast flowing stream emptying into it.

“This river has a big run of real late dog salmon in it so even now in the spring there are a lot of dead fish lying around. It doesn’t have a real good meadow for grazing but sometimes a big ole boar will come out here just to eat fish. We’ll go ashore and look for tracks along the river.”

“Since we’re just scouting Jake, you and Carlos can take one side and me and Jose’ will take the other. Just keep alert and watch for tracks. Now keep sharp everybody cause if there is one here he will be very territorial and might just nail you without warning.”

Jake had seen these situations before while logging but had been wise enough to just avoid the area. Now he was going right into the lion’s den.

This time when they got their gear ready Carlos gladly took a pair of hip boots. Jake carried his beat up old 444 Marlin lever action rifle, Carlos had no gun. They rowed ashore where Jake dropped off Horton and Jose’ on the east bank and he and Carlos went on to the west. After securing the skiff they started up the river. There were old, fuzzy salmon carcasses lying here and there along the gravel bars. Occasionally they spotted a fish in the water, pretty nasty looking but still alive. As they sneaked carefully up the river they looked all around them but especially anyplace the ground was soft enough to hold a track.

“Senor Jake, Lobo!” Carlos hissed. Jake looked where Carlos pointed and saw the track of a large wolf. “Yes Carlos, a wolf, big one too”

Horton and Jose' eased along the shoreline, theirs was the more brushy side of the river. Horton had chosen that side because of the better chance for a shot for his hunter. After two hours of travel Horton waved to Jake and they headed back downstream.

Later back on the boat while cruising to the next location they discussed what they had seen. “We found the track of a big old wolf but not one bear track” said Jake. “Yeah we didn’t see any either” said the old guide. “Not to worry though I got other places in mind, I just wanted to check this one as it was on the way. Just a few miles along here we will come to a big delta, it has good grass and lot’s of roots, berries and such. There are good salmon runs there in the summer so it’s just damn good bear country.”

When they arrived at the spot Horton had in mind Jake set the anchor and they got ready to go ashore. “Jose', see that line of trees there going back in from the beach? What we’ll do is go ashore there and walk in staying in the trees. The way the wind is tonight when we get in a half mile or so we can set up and see nearly the whole meadow with the wind in our face.”

“Yes that sounds like a fine plan to me. We will go in light again I presume and have Carlos and Jake bring us the packs if we need them.” “Yes, that is best, we will go in quiet and they can just row back to the boat and wait for our signal. You hear that Jake? You take us in and then you can come back and fix supper. If we shoot you two come in with the packs and gear, and if not we will wave to you from the beach for a ride.”

“Yeah, sure sure, by the way, who was your maid last year” Jake grumbled. But secretly he thought cooking beat the hell out of sitting on the beach swatting mosquitoes all night. Jake took Jose' and Horton ashore, wished them good luck and returned to the boat.

“Well Carlos, what shall we have for supper tonight” Jake asked. Of course Carlos couldn’t understand a word he said so he just looked at him. “This is getting frustrating” thought Jake “guess I’m going to have to teach this feller some English so we can talk to each other.” Jake made eating motions to Carlos and headed below deck.

“This is a potato” said Jake clearly while holding up one. Carlos looked at him. “This is a bowl” Jake said as he got one out to mix biscuits in. “This is a knife, this is a plate and so on and so forth. Occasionally Carlos would state the name of something in Spanish and they both laughed at each other trying to pronounce the strange words of the others language. Fish-Pesca, meat-carne, bread-tortilla, eggs-huevos on and on while they worked together.

They had dinner ready, needing only to cook the steak when they heard the sound of a shot. Jake and Carlos froze, listening intently. A minute then two then after perhaps five minutes another shot.

“Sounds like we got us some work to do Carlos” said Jake as he picked up his hat and headed upstairs. Carlos went straight to his skinning gear and loaded the pack boards into the skiff. In short order they were on their way.

Jose’ and Horton had walked quietly through the trees to a point where they could look over the fifteen acres of grass. They found a large spruce tree with big heavy branches close to the ground. This gave them an easy ladder and a ringside seat for the action.

After waiting for about two hours Horton spotted a nice, big bear coming out of the timber maybe four hundred yards away. “Jose’ there is a bear, do you see it?”

“Yes, I see it. It is too far to shoot, what shall we do?” Jose’ asked. “Let’s watch him, check his coat and see if he comes this way” Horton said. The bear was a smooth, even milk chocolate color and was pretty big. He fed steadily and would pick his head up to sniff the wind regularly. They watched with binoculars and found no rubs on the bear.

“Jose' he looks like a good one to me” whispered Horton. “Yes, I would take him if he were in range. Should we sneak around and get closer?” “Won’t work Jose' the wind is good from here but if we were in the trees behind him the wind would carry our scent right to him. I got an idea, after seeing you shoot I know you can hit him so I’m going to try calling him to us. If he comes he might come fast and he wont’ stop so you’ll have to take him from the front, on the run. Can you handle that?”

Jose' knew that this could be a hazardous undertaking but they were in a tree, not on the ground and he had confidence in his abilities. “Yes Horton, I can do that. Where do you recommend I hit him coming straight in like that?” “If you was on the ground and had to stop a charging bear you would shoot him right in the end of the nose. The bullet would follow the nasal passage right into the brain. From up here the best shot is to hit right behind the head and break his neck. A perfect shot will drop him like a rock and a slight miss will still get a lung and at least one shoulder.”

Don Jose' loaded a shell into chamber of his rifle and nodded to Horton. Horton also chambered a round then leaned his rifle against a branch. He then took a small, smooth stick out of his pocket. It had been split lengthwise and had a rubber band stretched along it, then the ends had been bound back together with string. Horton placed the stick to his mouth and blew on it. He let out with the most god awful squalling, screeching racket that Don Jose’ had ever heard. It made Don Jose' think of lambs being butchered.

The bear was feeding peacefully when the sounds reached him. He jerked his massive head up listening. His nostril dilated as he tried to smell the wind. The giant brownie hesitated only for a moment and then started toward the sound at a ground eating, rolling lope.

Horton never broke the rhythm of the screaming bleats he was making but elbowed Jose’ and pointed at the bear with his chin. Don Jose' raised his rifle and picked up the running bear in his ‘scope. The animal was coming deceptively fast, he had already covered half the distance to them. Don Jose' tried to hold the crosshairs on the bouncing neck.

At about sixty yards Horton suddenly stopped calling and picked up his rifle, the great bear made two more jumps and slowed to a trot. The huge beast was magnificent, puffs of steam jetted from his nostril as he tested the air. He swung his broad head back and forth seeking for the scent. At just about forty yards Horton pursed his lips and squeaked like a mouse. The bear stopped dead in his tracks, ears up, nose quivering.

“Now!” hissed Horton and Don Jose's gun boomed. The bear dropped flat on the grass, the bullet driving through the back of his neck. The old guide and his hunter watched in silence, staring at the body of the bear, looking for any sign of movement. After several minutes Horton started to relax and reached to shake hands with Don Jose'. At that second the huge bear exploded to his feet, spun around and with a coughing grunt, bolted for the cover of the tree line.

Don Jose’ reacted with speed and control. He had already chambered another shell and he swung his rifle after the bear. Smoothly swinging like he was shooting doves he picked up his target and tapped the trigger. The bullet struck the bears right side just behind the reaching foreleg, tore though both lungs and broke the offside shoulder. The brown bear crashed nose first into the ground and rolled completely over.

Horton stared intently over his own gun, ready to make a backup shot. He had never seen a client so fast and sure. After several more minutes of tense watching Horton said to Don Jose'. “That was some damn fine shooting there old son, when he took off I wasn’t holding back at all, you just beat me to it. How bout you stay here and keep him covered and I go down and kick him in the ass to see if he’s dead this time.”

“Si, OK, you go kick him, I will stay up here, My God even the big cats of Africa are not so fast as this bear!”

Old Horton climbed down out of the tree and gingerly approached the bear. He did not kick him in the ass or anywhere else. He came up behind and out of Don Jose’s line of fire, he eased up on the bear with the safety off and the gun barrel leading the way. Horton reached out and poked the bear in the rump then when he got no reaction poked him right under the tail. With still no movement he stepped forward and touched the muzzle to the bear’s open eye.

“Come on down Jose' you got him good and I believe he’s going to stay dead now.” Horton yelled.

Don Jose' climbed quickly down and joined Horton. The bear was beautiful, nearly as large as a full-grown steer, massive and solid. The hair was long and luxuriant, darker on the guard hairs and lighter underneath. The animal was to heavy for the two men to roll over. The head was broad, wide between the eyes and dished in at the base of the nose. He carried old scars along his snout and had a tattered ear. Horton judged him to be a good nine and half foot and close to a thousand pounds. In the fall when fat this same bear might weigh over fifteen hundred pounds. Long, ivory colored claws and worn teeth showed he had ruled his world for twenty years or more.

keep em coming I need somthing to read between superbowl commercials.