A Bear Season of Firsts

Good  Friends  and  First  Bears

It was only the second day of our hunt, but by late evening we had seen a half dozen bears.  Oregon hunters can’t use baits or hounds when bear hunting, so hunters’ glass clear-cuts and walk old roads to locate bruins.  As we drove from location to location in the last week of May 2005, bears seemed to be everywhere.  My good friend Jay Myers of West Linn, Oregon had never been bear hunting and had never seen a bear in the wild.  With just a few hours actually in the field, he had now seen six in two days.  He was spellbound.   

We left the truck around 6:45 p.m.; each walking separate directions on antique grass covered logging roads.  Jay would be walking downhill towards the turnaround, at the dead-end of his road.  To his left the mountain climbed nearly straight up with exposed rock outcroppings the length of the road.  Mere inches off the right edge of the old roadway lay purgatory.  Steep canyon walls stretched several hundred yards to the creek in the bottom.  Four to eight feet tall brush created a nearly impenetrable barrier.  This blockade of green may be heaven to a fleeing bear, but it would be pure hell for humans attempting to recover a dead or injured animal.

Jay carried a Ruger bolt action 25-06 with hand loaded 140-grain sierra boat-tail hollow points, topped by a 3×9 Leopold scope.  Since we would be less than one mile from one another across the canyon, we agreed to switch on our pocket radios if one of us fired a shot.  I suggested to Jay that he could not walk too slowly.  If the wind changed direction or his footsteps were overly loud, he would never know whether a bear had been present.  I told him that if he saw a bear it would be in the roadway in front of him, probably grazing on new spring grass.  I cautioned that if he shot a bruin, he should not hesitate to fire a second or even a third time if the animal was not solidly down for the count.  The object was to prevent the bear from diving into purgatory off the right side of the road.  With a handshake and wish for luck we anxiously parted company.  Jay wondered how he would react if he came face to face with a bear.  I knowingly worried about all the things that can go wrong while bear hunting. 

Forty-five minutes into my walk I heard a shot from across the canyon.  I quickly retrieved my radio and switched in on.  I waited for a long sixty seconds before trying to speak to Jay.  I called to him, but got no response.  Now I worried he had shot the bear and it had skydived over the edge.  My mind’s eye pictured the bear cannon-balling into the darkness of the chasm.  Another minute or so passed until I heard a second shot.  Within seconds my radio crackled. “Jim?”  I answered, “Go ahead – did you get him?”  Amazingly calm, he replied, “I did.  I got him.  I have one down.”  I’m sure he heard my cowboy whoop and holler without the use of his radio!  I rapidly made what seemed a much longer walk – uphill to my truck. 

When I reached Jay and his first-bear I could not have been happier.  His bear was quite large and its gorgeous black coat glistened in the days fading sunlight.  I could not have been more excited.  What a thrill it was to be present with such a close friend and his taking of such a marvelous black bear.  I estimated the bear weighed 260 to 300 pounds, so I called it 280.  The bear measured 6’2” from nose to tail and its front pad was 5-1/2” wide.   

It was fully dark by the time the bruin was resting in the bed of my truck.  We were twenty miles from camp with hours of labor ahead of us, but what pleasurable work it would be. 

Another close friend had scored a huge bear just seven weeks earlier.  2005’s spring bear season was the year of “firsts” for my friends.  For his first bear, Trace Schreiner of Newberg, Oregon took what will probably be the largest bear of his life.  It was certainly the largest bear in my camp in 2005. 

We made camp on April 1, 2005, opening day of bear season.  The first few days it rained quite heavily and we had seen only a glimpse of a single bear.  Trace had never harvested a black bear and I began to worry our trip would end without success.  On April 5^th the weather cooperated and I suggested we pull out all the stops and hunt the entire day.  Trace had to leave for home on the 7^th and the forecast called for additional rain beginning the next day.  With sandwiches and drinks we left camp before daylight.  We wouldn’t see a bear until the end of a long day, only thirty minutes before darkness halted our quest.   

Tired and disappointed we decided to call it quits and headed for camp.  About a ½-mile from dry clothes and fresh coffee I spotted Trace’s first bear.  Less than two hundred yards from the roadway my mind registered something black behind the draping branches of an old moss covered Oak tree.  The vegetation was two to four feet high, a mass of green.  The black spot simply seemed odd in that scene. 

I asked Trace to drive forward a little further and then stop the truck.  With Trace carrying his .308 caliber rifle and me towing my video camera, we slowly and cautiously walked up the old road.  The black spot had disappeared, causing me to wonder if I had simply seen a shadow, or had it truly been a bear, which had now moved.  We stood our ground and waited.  Within moments I observed a very large bear moving slightly closer toward our position.  He was barely visible in the tall grass and brush.  I motioned to Trace and he quickly spotted the bear.   

My Cabela’s range finder told me there were 173 yards between us, and this bruiser of a bear.  Then it happened, the bear spotted us and froze motionless in his tracks.  I whispered to Trace that it was now or never.  I raised my video camera and began filming while Trace desperately searched for an open path in which to send a 180-grain Nosler partition bullet.  It was at that moment this bear did something I’ve never seen a bear do when he was aware of human beings in the woods.  He simply sat down and watched our movements.   

If all had been normal, Trace would never have gotten a shot.  I would expect a bear to instantly vanish into the brush when he became aware of men so close to where he stood.  But this old bear was king of his domain.  He looked alert, prepared to run, but it appeared his curiosity had the best of him.  He simply sat down and stared. 

The bear’s head, neck and upper chest were the only visible body parts.  Trace made a great shot, striking him dead center in his neck.  The bullet functioned perfectly and the bear was down. 

I was dumbfounded when we reached the bear.  It was very large.  Although it was April 5^th, this animal was obese.  It was obvious that he was the ruler of this small slice of the Oregon Coast Range.  In some years the weather is so mild along the coast that black bears find no need to hibernate.  With fat up to five inches deep along his back, it appeared this bear had not lost weight over the rainy days of winter.   

This great bear measured 6’10” from nose to tail.  Due to his size and weight, we were forced to skin and quarter him where he laid.  We later discovered the head and hide weighed 96-pounds and with most of the fat removed, the hindquarters still weighed 111-pounds.  There is little doubt this bear would have tipped the scales at around 400-pounds.  Not bad for a first bear!  I told Trace he is now ruined for bear hunting.

 As for myself, I think I had more fun than either Jay or Trace being there when two good friends, each took their first black bears. 

Bears Return to Southern Oregon’s 500,000 Acre Biscuit Fire

Bears in the Biscuit

Drive south from the historic Wolf Creek Tavern in southern Oregon, to just north of the giant Red Woods in California and the majority of your trip will be within the boundaries of the Siskiyou National Forest.  You could stop off in Grants Pass and take a jet boat ride westward on the whitewaters of the Rogue River.  Or, from the pacific coast-side of the Siskiyou you could tag along with the postman, delivering mail up-river along the Rogue for sixty miles.  If you’ve seen the movie Rooster Cogburn, you watched John Wayne and Katherine Hepburn weave their way through magnificent canyons and treacherous waters, a top a raft of logs.  They dodged bullets and bad guys, eventually dumping their cargo of dynamite into the river, and of course The Duke saved the day.     

The Siskiyou (pronounced Sis-Kee-You) is an amazingly wild place.  It is the most floristically diverse forest in the country and holds 28 species of coniferous trees.  Only the great Smokey Mountains of the eastern United States can compare with the diversity of plant life in this Mediterranean ecosystem.  Hunting, fishing, hiking, camping and whitewater rafting are enjoyed by thousands of visitors each year. 

The Klamath, Pacific Coast and Siskiyou mountain ranges within the forest are extremely old.  Some rocks found in the Siskiyous have been there for over 200 million years.  The Siskiyou National Forest comprises 1,163,484 acres, or just over 1,800 square miles, (the state of Rhode Island encompasses an area of 1,545 sq. miles).  Thousands of black bears, deer, elk and innumerable other species reside in this enormous landscape.

In July 2002 the Siskiyou was ablaze.  Over a period of weeks nearly one-half-million acres (499,965 acres, equal to 780 square miles) would be charred and blackened.  In the recorded history of Oregon, no fire had been so large.  To put the immensity of this occurrence into perspective, with over eight million residents, the five boroughs of New York City rest on 301 square miles.  The boundaries of the District of Columbia take in only 68 square miles, and the city of Portland Oregon fills a mere 90,000 acres.

On July 13, 2002, a large number of lightening strikes sparked fires throughout southwest Oregon and northwest California.  Two of these fires began on “Biscuit Hill”, located within the 180,000 acre Kalmiopsis Wilderness, which in turn is located within the Siskiyou National Forest.  A number of smaller fires eventually joined the Biscuit #1 and Biscuit #2 fires, spreading a wall of flame and smoke across an incredibly large area.  Over 7,000 firefighters and smoke jumpers battled the blaze until November 9^th. 

Fire is vital to the overall long-term health of a forest.  Forest fires clear the ground of brush and debris, and return valuable nutrients to the soil.  In a relatively short period of time, grasses and brushy plant life will sprout and thrive.  But initially within the Biscuit fire boundaries, hundreds of square miles of forest floor had the appearance of a blackened moonscape. 

An Oregon State Police game trooper informed a friend of mine that he sees bears nearly everyday within the boundaries of the fire.  In order to learn more about bears returning to the Biscuit, I met with Fred Craig, a biologist with the U.S. Forest Service.  Fred is assigned to the Siskiyou National Forest and has worked hard to assist wildlife disturbed by the fire.  Fred lives in the Grants Pass area and is an avid hunter.  He is the President of the Oregon Hunters Association for Josephine County.

Fred told me that at the outset the Biscuit fire displaced countless animals, including bears.  Bear numbers are high throughout the Siskiyous and the Kalmiopsis Wilderness.  As the fire progressed across hundreds of square miles, fleeing bears entered the territories of other bear populations.  Suddenly black bear numbers were extremely dense all along the fire’s border.

Mr. Craig said firefighters were inundated with visits by hungry bears.  Firemen told stories of finding bears in the cabs of fire trucks and climbing about on other apparatus.  Firefighters lived in the field, consuming meals on the run, outdoors and inside their vehicles.  They found it difficult to resist the urge to toss a marauding bear chips, cookies and sandwiches.  Also, boxed meals were often brought to specific pickup locations and were consumed in that area.  This meant food was stored and refuse discarded at isolated positions.  Like computer assisted fighter pilots, bears zeroed in on these savory aromas.  Eventually supervisors had to impose strict rules against the sharing of food.  Fred told me that due to stress from the fire and forced relocation, bears seemed to lose all fear of humans.  Line supervisors worried someone might be injured. 

I found Fred Craig to be extremely helpful.  He spoke of wildlife recovery with a passion and genuine concern.  He patiently spent over one hour showing me maps of the fire area and explaining some of their programs in place to assist the bears, deer, elk and other returning animals.

The Forest Service planted grasses and oats along roadways.  This not only helped fight erosion in severely damaged areas, but provided an immediate food source.  They also utilized helicopters to spread these same seeds over broad areas on mountainsides.  Mr. Craig advised me the seeding had been so successful, there was plentiful springtime food in 2003 and 2004.  He said that with an abundance of protein rich food, many black-tailed deer gave birth to three fawns.  But, bears consume the grasses and oats as well, bringing large numbers of them into the fawning sites.  Bears have taken an exceedingly large number of newborn deer and elk throughout the planting area.  Of course, cougars feed on fawns and elk calves as well.

Fred suggested I contact DeWaine Jackson, a biologist with the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife (ODF&W), as Jackson is a research scientist involved in a “bear marking” program.  Mr. Jackson’s office is located at ODF&W’s Southwest Regional Office in Roseburg.

Like Mr. Craig had been, I found DeWaine Jackson was professional and dedicated to wildlife projects with which he is involved.  DeWaine explained one method in which ODF&W attempts to determine bear population numbers.  In 1999, ODF&W began a bear-marking program in Oregon’s southwest regions.  This includes the area affected by the Biscuit fire and the boundaries of the Kalmiopsis Wilderness. 

Mr. Jackson is the Research Project Leader for the development of a black bear population census.  Over the past five years ODF&W staff have established hundreds of feeding stations across an enormous tract of land.  Tetracycline is mixed with the feed and permanently stains the teeth of a bear when consumed.  When a hunter takes a bear and forwards a premolar tooth to ODF&W, the tooth is examined to determine if the tetracycline is present.  At the conclusion of each hunting season ODF&W completes telephone surveys of persons who purchased bear tags, inquiring about their success.  Results of the telephone survey and tooth examinations are correlated as a method of determining bear populations.  DeWaine Jackson shared the results of their preliminary progress report, data collected since 1999 when the research began. 

The Klamath Mountain Range, inside the Biscuit fire area proved to be one of the most heavily populated sections.  The Coast Range Mountains east of Coos Bay, north of the “burn”, was another area with dense bear numbers.  Preliminary estimates from the ODF&W progress report for southwest Oregon show a progressive and dramatic increase in bear population.  In 1999, bear numbers in this tiny corner of Oregon were estimated at 4,796.  In 2002 the estimate dramatically increased to 7,838 individual bears.  Although the data is not yet calculated, there is no reason to believe the 2004 census won’t show a continued increase.  What great news for black bear hunters.  (Note:  Oregon’s statewide bear population is estimated at over thirty-five thousand bears.)

Clayton Barber is also a bear researcher for ODF&W, working out of their Gold Beach office on the southern Oregon coast. If you’re a black bear enthusiast, Mr. Barber has your dream job.  Clayton Barber directs a project in which bears are captured and fitted with radio tracking collars.  Then, while bears are snoozing in their winter dens, he uses the collar to locate females and inspects their cubs for research data.  Clayton also assists in the tetracycline project by attending to feeding stations within his area. 

Clayton feels bear numbers are very high within his region, which is on the western boundaries of the Biscuit fire.  Mr. Barber told me he believes bears were never truly displaced from most areas affected by the fire.  He explained that the fire burnt in a mosaic pattern, meaning some mountainsides and watersheds were left untouched.  Clayton believes bears returned to burned-out sections almost immediately.

My longtime friend Brian Riley acquired a SW Oregon spring bear tag and traveled to the western regions of the Biscuit fire, east of Gold Beach.  While showing me maps of areas where he thought bear numbers would be the highest, Fred Craig pointed to roads named Burnt Ridge, Chrome Ridge, Flat Top, and other roadways within the burn.  Brian Riley chose to hunt southeast of the Rogue River, searching the mountains and canyons off Burnt Ridge Road. 

The fire cleared the timber of underbrush, which drastically improved visibility.

Due to dense vegetation, those of us living and hunting in western Oregon are not accustomed to being able to see into the timber.  Brian told me camping and hunting within the burn was a real pleasure.  He noted the incredible growth of new grasses, providing exceptional forage for black bears and other critters. 

In four days of glassing Brian observed seven bears.  On the fourth and last day of his hunt he took a beautiful cinnamon colored bear.  Using a Ruger Model 77, 25-06, with a Sightron 4-12 scope, and Barnes Triple Shock 115 grain bullets, Brian took the bear from 150 yards. 

The blitzkrieg of a forest fire is always a double-edged sword.  The costly devastation to trees and private property is a nightmare for those earning a living from or living in the forest.  Conversely, fire is a natural occurrence of nature and revitalizes the long-term growth of woodland plants. 

It appears bear habitat may actually be improved in the aftermath of this fire.  Bottom line, if you want to find me next spring, I’ll be down south searching for Bears in the Biscuit.

Elk Hunting is a Rite of Passage in Oregon

 

 Coast Elk, A Rite of Passage    

From Ashland to Portland, the vast majority of Oregon’s residents live along the Interstate-5 corridor.  With the Coast Range Mountains looming just to the west of their backyards, it stands to reason that most Oregon hunters have at one time purchased a tag and sought Roosevelt Elk in our State’s coastal mountains.  Tens of thousands of Oregonians have known the misery of constant rain and nearly vertical terrain associated with Oregon’s Coast Bull rifle season.  Hunting’s most seasoned veterans will readily tell you that seeking coastal elk in this perennial rain forest can be one of the most physically demanding hunts in North America.

Yearly harvest statistics gathered by Oregon’s Department of Fish and Wildlife show nearly 50,000 rifle elk tags are sold for the Coast and High Cascade hunting seasons.  Statistically, fewer than 6,000 cows and bulls will be killed, with an overall hunter success rate standing around 13%.  Shockingly, approximately 3,500 bulls will be harvested by well over ten times that many men and women who purchase bull elk tags, leaving the actual bull elk hunter success ratio at less than ten-percent.  So, using twenty consecutive years of hard to come by vacation time from the salt mine, solidly average hunters will take fewer than two bulls.  Terribly difficult terrain, sometimes an inch of rainfall per day and a 90% chance that you will not kill a bull elk, you’ve got to ask what gives?  Why would so many otherwise intelligent people submit themselves to this kind of yearly torture?  In addition to mere proximity, I believe the number one reason must be “family”. 

Evolving across three and four generations of Oregonians, hunting coast elk is a family tradition.  Who among us has not heard someone make a statement similar to, “My family has been using the same elk-camp for the past twenty or thirty years.”  One such family is the Parnell’s of southwest Oregon.  Their coast bull tradition spans nearly fifty years.

Brothers – Duane, Brian (deceased), Glenn and Robert Parnell grew up on a small ranch just outside of Sutherlin.  Their father, Chester Parnell, fell tress and built roads in coastal timber for over forty years.  Having relocated his family to Sutherlin in 1950, “Chet” readily took to hunting elk in this rugged country.  Referring to the 1940’s and 1950’s, I heard Chet say many times, “folks raised their families on elk and deer meat in those days”.  Always an avid hunter, he excelled at meeting coast bulls head-to-head, ignoring the rain and torturous terrain.  Chet shared his hunting prowess with friends and family, and passed his elk hunting skill to his sons and grandsons. 

Before his death Chet Parnell would personally tag over forty coast bulls, and aid those close to him in the taking of countless others.  But, knowing the environment so intimately, Chet closely guarded the whereabouts of his private “honey-holes”, sharing their locations only with his children and grandchildren.  I had the pleasure of sharing an elk camp or two with Chet and while he never ran short of elk stories, I never tired of hearing them.  I have hunted since I’ve been big enough to keep-up, and my hair is more gray than brown.  Chet Parnell was unquestionably the best animal tracker I’ve known, and probably the best hunter I ever met.  He was a master elk hunter.

The Parnell’s hunt within the Tioga Unit, which extends from the Umpqua River, south to Highway 42, and from just west of Sutherlin to the ocean.  They like hunting in the old growth forests east of Coos Bay.  Fearing for my personal well being, I will provide no further description of their favorite hunting grounds.  Like all of the coast range, it is steep unforgiving terrain.  While the old growth is more open than “reprod”, there are certain pluses and minuses for each type of forested hunting situation. 

For instance, old growth timber allows hunters the ability to see for long distances inside the trees.  But, when a fallen tree blocks your path, it is often too large to climb over, or even to see over for that matter.  When moving on nearly vertical slopes, walking or climbing two or three hundred feet in one direction, simply to get around a fallen tree, can add a lot of work and time to your hunt.  Experiencing this several times per day throughout the season, seriously adds to your workout.  Rhododendron patches the size of cornfields, rocks the size of houses and cliffs dropping off to nowhere, all add to the coast elk experience.

The Saddle Mountain Unit in northwest Oregon and the Tioga Unit in the southwest have each been established as trophy bull hunts by Oregon’s Department of Fish and Wildlife.  In order to comply with established hunting regulations, any bull taken in these areas must have a minimum of three points on at least one antler.  This “three point or better” rule applies to both rifle and archery hunters.  Archery hunters can still take a cow elk, but if they harvest a bull it must have three points on one antler.  About the fourth day of your hunt, you have climbed mountain after mountain, and it has rained every minute since you arrived, this restriction can be extremely frustrating.  You may have seen dozens of elk, but none with the required three points.  Let me tell you, a spike elk never looks so good as the third or fourth day of a Tioga elk hunt.

Even in his sixties Chet Parnell was in superb physical condition and could climb up and down unforgiving mountains for day after day.  Coming across a single elk track in the timber he would make a judgment call as to whether or not the animal was a lone bull.  So long as the ground was not frozen hard, if he decided to follow an elk track, chances were good that he would get a look at the bull.  If he lost his race with the sun, the next morning he would either guess where the bull was heading at sundown and make his way to a particular canyon or timber stand, or he would return to where he had stopped the day before and begin a new.  I loved listening to he and Duane’s stories about bulls Chet had taken on the second or third day of a hunt, having tracked the same bull for days on end.  Duane paid close attention to his father’s lessons on tracking.  We followed a bull for hours one day, climbing over ridge after ridge.  I was spellbound at Duane’s ability to detect the slightest irregularity or disturbance on the ground and rightly connect it with the bull we were following. 

The Parnell’s have a particular “honey-hole” on a nameless ridge, off a nameless road, somewhere in the Tioga Unit.  On that steep ridge there is a small flat resting squarely above a cliff, about 1,000 yards off the nearest road.  The circling trees are ancient and enormous, allowing little light to penetrate the earth on even the sunniest of days.  It seems likely that elk and deer have rested on this little flat for hundreds and hundreds of years.  An Indian or two may have walked in this flat in the past few thousand years, and I suppose it is possible that a timber cruiser has stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow during his long workday.  But, in decades of Tioga elk hunting, Chet and Duane Parnell never saw so much as a human footprint in this flat, their own private “honey-hole”.  Three generations of Parnell’s have sat in wait at this beautiful slice of the coast range.   While patiently waiting for a yellow bull to step into this special place, two Parnell fathers (Chet and Duane) have passed on coast elk knowledge to sons.      

I happen to know the precise locale of this small slice of heaven on earth.  In 2003 I had the privilege of helping young Brian Parnell bring his bull from the little flat, up and out to the roadway.  This was Brian’s first bull and because he had taken it in a secret place where both Duane and his father had harvested coastal elk, it is and shall always be a cornerstone day in Duane’s life. 

The Parnell’s may be typical of countless thousands of west-side Oregon families.  Young men and women learn to elk hunt in the forests of the Coast Range Mountains.  For these families, hunting coast elk is truly a rite of passage by which youngsters can gauge a never-ending journey into adulthood and fathers can mark the passage of time.

Residents dub Southern Oregon: CAMO-LAND

Camo-Land  Southern  Oregon’s  Spring  Incursion

It begins each November.  Low banks of clouds amass in the Pacific Ocean, lining up like battalions of Roman soldiers.  Wave after wave, storm after storm, brigades’ of rain clouds overwhelm the land.  The forward assault of this watery onslaught is eventually halted by the towering Cascade Mountains.  Positioned squarely between the high Cascades and the coastal mountains, southern Oregon is a land of perpetual green. 

Infamous Northwest rains begin to slow in March, and on occasion locals glimpse a bright yellow orb in the sky.  Daylight hour’s increase and four months of temperatures in the mid-40’s give way to fifty and sixty degree highs.  Talk of springtime fills conversations, with residents forecasting its eventual arrival.  Finally, a man dressed in camouflage is seen at a restaurant, and another was seen stopping for fuel.  A fast-food clerk said she’d served a woman wearing a camo-shirt and hat.  Quiet rainy days of winter are dissipating and southern Oregon is being transformed.  In the blink of an eye an incursion of camo-clad humans have invaded.  All forecasting is over, for spring has officially arrived.

Along the Interstate-5 corridor, from Eugene to Ashland, Oregon landscape is made up of rolling hills and green pastures.  Several species of Oak trees, along with Madrone, Fir and Cedar dot the ridge tops and canyons.  Innumerable creeks and springs careen down every slope.  If logging is the economic King of this area, ranching is certainly heir to the throne.  Tens of thousands of cattle and sheep graze within the immense greenness of this enormous basin.  Wild turkeys thrive here, and it is without question the Mecca of turkey hunting in Oregon.

To simply say turkeys are plentiful in southern Oregon is a gross understatement of fact.  Drive for thirty minutes in any direction from my home in Douglas County and you will easily see dozens upon dozens of feeding birds.

Wild turkeys were not native to Oregon, but since their introduction here in 1961 they have populated nearly every region of the state.  Merriam’s were brought from Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, Nebraska and Montana.  Their numbers have been stable for several decades, but Merriam’s reside in high rugged mountainous terrain.  Rio Grande turkeys were released in southern Oregon in 1975 and are now well established, with their numbers exceeding all initial estimates.

Turkey hunting is the fastest growing form of hunting in the United States and Oregon is no exception to this phenomenon.  The popularity of turkey hunting has grown ten-fold since Oregon’s first statewide spring hunting season in 1987.  The number of birds harvested that first year was approximately 425.  Although there is no required check station system in place, it’s estimated hunters harvested 3,700 turkeys in Oregon’s 2002 spring hunting season, with a statewide success rate reaching about thirty six-percent.

Oregon’s Department of Fish and Wildlife (ODF&W) divides the state into 57 separate Management Units.  Far and away Oregon’s best spring turkey hunting is found in southern Oregon.  The five most successful units are – Applegate, Dixon, Evans Creek, Melrose and Rogue.  Of the 3,700 gobblers taken in Oregon’s 2002-spring season, 1,585 were harvested in these five management units, well over 1/3 of all birds statewide.  Individual hunter success rates for these units approached nearly fifty-percent.

Oregon allows the taking of one male bird each day with a three-bird total during the spring season.  There is no drawing for spring tags, so they are easily purchased from any licensed agent.  Hunters can pursue birds from sunrise to sunset, seven days a week throughout the season, which runs from Aprils 15^th through May 31^st.  The use of dogs is not allowed in the spring. 

The State is divided into regions for fall turkey hunting.  For most southwest Oregon counties, tags are provided on a first-come/first-serve basis, with approximately 3,000 tags available to hunters.  This “first-come” season runs from October 15^th through November 30^th.  One bird of either sex can be taken in the fall. Those who wish to do so can utilize dogs during the fall hunt.  There are also two controlled fall turkey seasons, for which an application must be submitted.  These are in the White River and Pine Valley hunting units, with 50 tags available for each hunt.  These seasons are in October and November, but with a total of only 100 tags available in the drawing, the prize is difficult to attain.

With turkey hunting at it’s apparent peak of popularity, finding a place to hunt can be challenging.  I first began turkey hunting in Oregon, in the spring of 1995.  I live within the Melrose hunting unit and found little trouble in acquiring permission from neighbors and through friends-of-friends.  I worked hard at gaining hunting authorization from a large number of landowners, and faced little opposition.  But, by the year 2001, guides had approached most persons whose property supports large numbers of turkeys.  Some guides offer landowners $100.00 per bird they remove, and often pay an up front fee of $1,000.00 or more.

Additionally, many ranchers were “turned-off” by unethical hunters who trespassed on their land, or perhaps even worse, failed to look for and recover injured birds. 

I’ll never forget one aggravated rancher.  This gentleman told me he had lost a pregnant cow due to an unethical turkey hunter.  He said a hunter stopped on the roadway and shot an arrow at a large tom in his pasture.  The “hunter” missed the bird, and failed to recover his arrow.  One of his cows stepped on the arrow’s broad head and injured her foot.  A single blade was removed from the animal’s hoof, but the cow did not recover from an infection as a result of this injury.  He told me he frequently discovers camo-clad trespassers on his property.  He has no use for turkey hunters. 

For persons living out of state, or out of the area, contacting ODF&W could be of great value.  The state has acquired hundreds of acres, which are available to the public for turkey hunting.  One of these sites is near my home and I frequently see flocks of turkeys feeding along its hillsides.

I would also encourage prospective newcomers to telephone local sporting goods stores, primarily in the cities of Roseburg, Sutherlin, Winston, Grants Pass and Medford.  Due to customers “talking-it-up”, storeowners and staff know where turkeys can be found.  These folks hope to sell you supplies you’ll utilize in the field when chasing the illusive Rio Grande gobblers.  It is in their best interest to help you find a place to hunt.

A guided hunt amongst Oregon’s beautiful river valleys and oh-so-green hills could bring fulfilling memories for a lifetime.  Many quality guides are available throughout the state and specifically in “turkey-alley” in southern Oregon.  The costs of these services will vary widely, but you should expect to pay at least $250.00 per day or per bird.  Check for licensed guides through ODF&W or simply type “Oregon Turkey Hunting” into your favorite Internet search engine.

If you want to “wing-it” and simply come to southern Oregon and ask landowners for permission to hunt, I strongly suggest you put your hunt off until May.  The first two weeks of spring season are extremely busy, thus the local descriptor of camo-land.  I believe a polite handshake and a guarantee of being responsible could bring some success.  But remember, you represent all hunters; each time you enter the field.

Oregon’s Rio Grande gobblers will weigh sixteen to twenty-five pounds, averaging nineteen to twenty each.  The largest I’ve taken had a twelve and one half inch beard, and weighed a whopping twenty-four pounds.  He was the largest of five big toms, which came charging toward me when I imitated a lonely hen with my mouth call.

My personal hunting strategy varies greatly, depending on the lay of the land and how well I know the property.  I’ve had success by merely staking-out travel routes.  Birds often follow specific daily routines and I’ve taken several toms by just sitting above a deep ravine or gully and waiting for birds to approach.

The rolling hills of these pastures are often quite high, with deep swales between them.  When I observe groups of birds moving up or down a swale, I move as quickly as possible to cut them off.  Using the crest of the hill to hide my movements, I kneel, sit or lay down when I reach the cut off point.  The toms usually stop when they reach the end of the swale.  Like submarine periscopes bobbing over the crest of the hill, they peer over the edge before stepping out. 

Calling birds is certainly a challenge once the season is underway.  But, little in the hunting world is more satisfying than a successful session of calling and moving, out smarting this ultimate survivor.

If you choose to pit your wits and skill against those of a long-beard in this area, be extremely careful.  Once you’ve come to Oregon in pursuit of a spring gobbler, your life could change.  You may have trouble sleeping with visions of strutting gobblers dancing through your minds’ eye.  You’ll find yourself “talking-turkey” throughout the year, telling complete strangers in coffee shops about this beautiful part of our country.  Undoubtedly you’ll be watching for sales on hunting gear and clothing, mindfully preparing for your next trip to Oregon’s “Camo-Land”.

The Deer Story

 

This was written by someone who supposedly farms and writes magazine articles.  It has been circulating on the Internet without an author’s name.  It is very funny.

The Deer Story

     I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it.The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregate at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home.I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it.

     After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up — 3 of them. I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me.  I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation.  I took a step towards it…it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and then received an education.

     The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope.  That deer EXPLODED.

     The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT  stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope and with some dignity.  A deer – no chance.  That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it.

     As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it ocurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I had originally imagined. The only upside is that they do not have as much stamina as many other animals.  A brief 10 minutes later, i t was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head. At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope.

     I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual.

     Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer’s momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn’t want the deer to have it suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder – a little trap I had set before hand…kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and I started moving up so I could get my rope back.

     Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist.  Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head –almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.

     The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective.  It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now) tricked it. While I kept it busy tearing the bejesus out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose.  That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day.

     Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp.  I learned a long time ago that, when an animal — like a horse –strikes at you with their hooves and you can’t get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.  This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run.The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head.  Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.

     Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head. I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.

     So now I know why when people go deer hunting they bring a rifle with a scope so that they can be somewhat equal to the Prey.

Three big black bears taken by “Ambush”

Spring 2007 – Big Bear Triple Play

         Most people believe Oregon black bears can only be hunted by means of spot and stalk, or as I prefer to call it, “spot and sneak”.  I have little experience at sitting in a tree stand or ground blind and like most folks who hunt in Oregon I have never been any good at it.  As I’ve said before, traditional western hunting means putting your boots in contact with the ground and covering as much terrain as humanly possible.  But, in the spring of 2007 I decided to try something different, a hunting tactic which most western hunters would consider a bit radical, Ambush!  Surpassing my most optimistic expectations, this change in tactics allowed two friends and myself to have our best spring bear season ever.  Each of us took big spring boars.

        Southwest Oregon’s spring bear season runs from April 1^st through May 31^st.  When the clouds part and warming rays of sunlight spark new growth in April and May, bears suddenly appear, moving from bedding areas to grass covered roadways, grassy openings on canyon walls and immensely green creek bottoms.  Scouting has taught me that bears utilize the same skid roads, clearings and timber, year after year.  I know unmolested bears will use the same feeding area on a daily basis once the growing season begins in earnest.  In early March I began placing trail cameras on skid roads and woodland trails which lead into these feeding areas.  I quickly enlisted the help of my friend Dave Heffner.

       Things were slow in the beginning.  Once or twice per week we drove nearly one hundred miles to our camera setups.  It was frustrating to drive that distance and discover there wasn’t a single photograph on the cameras.  Scouting further, I found feeding areas showing moderate amounts of sign and we moved cameras to these locations and the trails leading to them.  Payoff!  As the weeks passed we got more and more photographs and learned a great deal.  We discovered that multiple bears would walk the same woodland trails to access grassy skid roads, clear cuts and canyons.  By the time we decided to begin hunting in mid-April, we had hundreds of photographs of live bears.

       Dave owns several ground-blinds and we decided to use them to conceal our presence at bear ambush sites.  We took the blinds to an area of old growth forest with a busy trail leading to greenery (bear groceries).  The blinds help reduce human scent, allow you the ability for some movement, and keep you dry during spring showers.  

       The first two evenings of watching the trail were not successful.  On April 20^th Dave and I set up two blinds in a heavily wooded area.  We climbed inside our respective blinds around 4:00 p.m. and began the wait.  By 6:00 p.m. I was really bored.  My lack of practice and near inability to remain seated while hunting was rearing its ugly head.  Then, just as I was about to burst, a shot rang out!  Positioned on the trail in a manner that prevented my seeing him, a big bear appeared and walked directly toward Dave’s blind.  Dave had chosen to use his Remington Model 700 with home loaded 7mm cartridges.  We had discussed the importance of making a high shoulder shot, preferably at a diagonal into the bear’s boiler room.  I suspected Dave had done that successfully when mere seconds after he fired, the bear loudly moaned, just out of our line of sight.  The bear collapsed less than twenty feet off the trail.  With only ten to eleven hours of actual hunting time, the plan had worked.  Field dressed, Dave’s boar weighed 250 pounds.  Adding in 18% to attain live weight, this solid six-footer had a walking weight of nearly 300 pounds.  

       Jazzed about this new experience, I had great incentive to put in some “bottom” time.  After two additional trips to the same wooded area my fifth visit brought success.  I was seated observing a trail, but this time my perch was simply a cloth lawn chair parked behind a large old growth deadfall.  The tree’s trunk was sufficiently high that only my head and upper shoulders would be visible.  Naturally this meant I would have to be extremely careful about movement.  

       I had taken my seat at 4:30 p.m. and after about one hour I was counting the minutes.   I impatiently looked at my watch for the last time at 6:28.  Just then, a large crow landed in a tree next to the trail.  The bird was only twenty feet off the ground and about seventy yards in front of me.  Suddenly I observed movement to my right.  Through the heavy brush I could see a black colored object moving toward the trail.  It was obviously a good-sized bear.  

       When the bear reached a large old growth log it effortlessly leapt five vertical feet to firmly land on top of it.  The bear glanced up at the crow and made a low guttural noise.  With that it jumped down and walked behind the large tree’s base (root-wad).  As it emerged into my line of sight the bear turned toward me on the trail and began walking in my direction.  I was ready to make a shot at my first opportunity.  I hoped he would stop before the unpredictable swirling winds gave me away.  

       At around sixty yards the bear stopped and looked to his right.  As the crosshairs of my scope came to rest on his shoulder I moved about four inches off center, towards his hindquarters, and slowly pulled the trigger of my Remington Model 700, 300 Win-Mag and hand loaded 165 grain Nosler ballistic tipped bullets.  The bear immediately rose into the air until he was standing on his hind feet, he turned 180 degrees and ran, but made it less than 50 feet.  In an instant it was over.  This boar field dressed at 300 pounds meaning his live weight was just over 350 pounds.  With only fifteen to sixteen hours of seat time, I had harvested a wonderful bear.

       This success meant the pressure was on for the last member of our group.  My friend Tracy Schreiner was camped about fifteen miles from my patch of old growth timber.  He had been scouting and glassing since his arrival on Saturday, making Tuesday May 8^th, his fourth evening in the field.  Tracy would be hunting alone, but his wife, Monica, was at camp anxious to assist if he were successful.  

       Tracy decided to hunt on an old skid road with a large amount of new green grass.  It is located in a very isolated area, at least 30 miles from the nearest town.  This old spur is about one mile long, all downhill from the roadway.  Although it had been socked in with fallen trees for two years, I used my chainsaw to clear a path.  About two-thirds of a mile off the main road a large rock outcropping began paralleling the roadbed.  At this point the road is met by a heavily used bear trail, which leads into extremely thick cover.  The trail is used so often it has flat “paw holds”, clearly detailing each step taken by a bear.  Tracy planned to sit about eighty yards uphill from this trail and simply wait until dark.

       He sat down about 5:30 p.m. and waited only one hour and twenty minutes for action.  At 6:50 p.m. a very nice bear came into view as it walked uphill toward his position.  The mountain winds were swirling badly and Tracy was worried the bear would scent him.  When the animal reached the end of the rock outcropping he stopped dead in his tracks, then spun and quickly began to leave.  Tracy shot him high in his left shoulder with a Winchester 300 Magnum utilizing home loaded 190-grain Hornaday boat-tail spitzer bullets.   Tracy’s bear instantly dropped in his tracks, but with steep unforgiving canyons on each side of this hogback ridge, he fired a second round to ensure the bear would not move.  This too was a good boar, and although Tracy did not have a scale, he estimated the bear’s live weight would have been over 275 pounds.

         After being thoroughly cleaned by a taxidermist’s hungry beetles, Dave and I were able to measure our bear’s skulls.  Dave’s bear scored 19-7/16 inches and mine an even 19-4/16.  Each of them was just under the 20-inch minimum required for placement into Boone and Crockett’s book of big game records.   Tracy’s bear has not yet been scored.        Although I had thought about ambushing bears for many years, my bias against sitting had kept me from trying this tactic.  I have been so very wrong. Believe me, after this unbelievable spring 2007 big bear triple play, I can’t wait to try it again.

The Quest – Dave Heffner is a man on a mission.

 

 

 

The Quest – A Man on a Mission

        Dave Heffner is a man on a mission.  Thus far in his seventeen-year quest to harvest an antelope buck with a bow in every state offering a tag, he has been successful in seven and hunted in New Mexico and Wyoming twice.  Unfortunately, drawing a tag in his state of residence, Oregon, has eluded him.  Using both traditional and modern archery equipment, Dave has undertaken what would amount to a serious challenge for most any hunter.

        Dave began thinking about pursuing antelope while deer hunting over a water hole in northern California’s Modoc County.  He was fascinated by the colorful antelope, which he observed from tree stands as they stopped in to quench their thirst.  He began reading everything he could find on this fleet footed critter and channel surfed through television outdoor programs hoping to view actual hunts.  While deer hunting in pronghorn country, Dave visited the camps of nearby antelope hunters, asking many questions of they and their hunting guide.  After successfully drawing a tag and harvesting an antelope in Nevada’s 1990 archery season, he was hooked.

His next pronghorn hunt came two years later on familiar ground in Modoc County, California, near the town of Lookout.  This hunt became a grueling seven-day test of willpower in ninety-degree plus August heat.  Having sought the services of a guide, Dave would be sitting on some of the same waterholes he utilized when hunting deer.

The guide had only two archery clients and since the other man harvested a buck on his first day, Dave never saw another hunter.  It was the end of a long drought and many traditional water sources had gone dry.  Day after fourteen-hour-day, with a vigil extending from before daylight until after dark, no antelope came into view.  With the exception of a ragged coyote and a bat that spent the day in his backpack, Dave saw no other animals.  Not until the seventh day did a buck come in for a drink.  After shooting it, this antelope nearly joined Dave in the open-pit blind he had occupied for so many long-drawn-out hours. 

        Future hunts took Dave to northeast Wyoming near Casper in 1994 and he hunted just outside of Roswell, New Mexico in 1995.  He saw very few antelope and not a single alien.  His Colorado hunt in 1997 was near Maybell in Moffat County, located in the upper northwest corner of that state and Dave returned to New Mexico in 1998, hunting close to the small town of Vaughn.  In southeast Montana he was in serious Prairie Dog country near Olive.  He harvested his Montana buck early in the morning on September 11, 2001.  He revisited Wyoming in 2004. 

Dave’s ninth and most recent hunt took place in August 2007 in the northwest corner of South Dakota near the town of Buffalo.  In South Dakota he saw every kind of weather imaginable, including huge hailstones, heavy rain, extreme winds and sunshine, all inside a short five-day hunt.  The outfitter and ranch owner had four hunters on his property and Dave was the sole member of the group to head home with a buck.

        Oregon’s Department of Fish and Wildlife can count antelope as a genuine success story.  Pronghorn numbers and available tags increase every year, but it is a work in progress.  Those seeking to take an antelope with archery equipment in Oregon have a greater chance of drawing a tag than hunters intending to use a modern rifle.  But, even with increased odds, in a given year there are still fewer than 800 antelope tags available to Oregon bow hunters.  In 2007, over 20,000 Oregon rifle hunters vied for just under 2,000 antelope tags. 

        In four of the past five years, Dave spent late summer and fall guiding antelope and deer hunts for an outfitter in Wyoming, thereby making himself unavailable for Oregon’s pronghorn season.  He hopes to acquire his Oregon resident archery tag in 2008 or 2009.  He is also seeking antelope tags in Idaho and Arizona, eager to travel to one of these states in the not too distant future. 

       Dave’s quest requires time, money and a large measure of patience.  He applies to state after state for non-resident antelope tags, knowing he will be unsuccessful for a given number of successive years.  Obviously, for this Oregon Hunter, planning for and merely obtaining this big game tag has become a good deal of the prize.

Introduction

 

Today, my hair is deservedly a bit more gray than not. I’ve been traipsing through woods, fields and hollers since I’ve been big enough to keep up, at least big enough to find the truck on my own. If it has fur, feathers or scales and it breathes or filters oxygen in the lower 48, there is a chance I have pursued it, possibly to the point of obsession.

After retiring from a real job in 2003, I have worked as a hunting guide, chasing Roosevelt elk, mule deer, black bear and upland birds. Some injuries and surgeries won’t allow me to continue guiding, but it has done nothing to diminish my desire to be afield. I’m slower, but I am still on the trail.

My first magazine article was published in “Bear Hunter” magazine in 2002 (not to be confused with “Bear Hunting” magazine). Oregon Hunter, Turkey Call, Rack, Bear Hunting, Big Game Adventures, Trail of the Sportsman and others, have each been kind enough to print my outdoor driven prose. With dozens of articles in publications across North America, I feel as though I have only dusted the surface of my writing goals.

With a kind invitation from Taj Gombart of Hawg Quest Outdoors, I hope to electronically meet and greet likeminded hunters and outdoor enthusiasts through this blog. One thing is for certain, regardless of your age and abilities, you never stop learning and hopefully we will never lose our desire to improve our game…

(http://www.hawgquest.com/HawgBlog.htm)