April is not a busy tourist time in the high Cascades, which made it the perfect time to be in the mountains scouting my old spring bear spots and prepping for my upcoming 3-week tent camp in May.?Even though the bear season in the south Cascades starts April 1, most years the snow has not receded enough and the temperatures are not high enough to get the bears moving from their winter slumber until the end of the month. So, the last week of April is a great time to spend a few days checking out road closures, snow levels, and gauge the overall condition of bear habitats and green-up progression for the main hunt in May.?This year, the winter was mild and the last week of April was downright balmy with temps in the mid-70s, so I was anxious to revisit my regular bear areas and explore some new ones in the short 3-day scouting trip I had planned. 

When I arrived, I expected some snow at the 4500’ level—the elevation at which I normally hunt Cascade bruins. Some years there is still three or more feet of snow blocking access to most of the roads leading into the backcountry, and snowshoes are required. But not this particular year: there was no snow to be had and I had free access to most mountainous trailheads. Still, green-up looked sparse at the higher elevations but seemed itching to sprout in a week or two, which meant it would be just perfect for the first week in May to set up camp.  

My next visit was to one particular area at the base of a mountain where multiple marshy environs border the foothills.?The dark forests surrounding the wetlands and the riparian zones that spider through them green up faster than the highlands due to an ever-present water source and higher temperatures. Slight rises in the landscape within these marshes produce small, lush meadows.?I had one particular meadow in mind when I arrived at midday.?From years past, due to the proximity of a huge marsh bordering it on three sides and steep forested mountains rising out of it in the north, this small meadow has the earliest growth of grasses and sedges that bears crave coming out of the den. After arriving in the middle of the afternoon on that first day, I was surprised at how much grass had grown compared to the rest of my spots. I decided to prop myself against the base of a large Ponderosa Pine and sit there till dark, still four hours away. 

As is a bear’s nature, a half hour before complete darkness a beautiful chocolate-phase black bear emerged from the dark forest and started feeding a mere 80 yards from my position.?With a long, rich, perfectly furred chocolate-brown coat and a fat, round body that wobbled like Jell-O with each step, I watched him feeding directly in front of me until he melted back into the forest and darkness overtook me. I didn’t even raise my rifle, maybe because it was the first day and I didn’t want to end my bear hunt so soon; but also, I knew in a couple years that bear would be a dream bear moving up in weight and size. Maybe if I saw him in May I might change my mind, but I had a lot of spring bear hunting left to do.  

The next day, I hit the mid-elevations and quietly still-hunted an old bear trail that meanders along a stream for over a mile.?This is one of my normal bear haunts as this trail traverses some amazing bear habitats in a relatively short distance (an area where I called in and killed a huge bear two years prior). The trail goes from deep, dark, dog-hair pine forests littered with blow-downs, then along beautiful riparian waterways full of beavers and avian life which feeds its own small marshes and bottomlands filled with aspens, cottonwoods, and poplars rising over lush vegetation, including wild onions and morel mushrooms.?The trail is an ancient one that not many humans seem to disturb.?I found it accidently one year hiking deep into the woods looking over some new country.?I crossed a rickety log high over the creek and entered the dark jack pine forest at first light, carefully picking my way down the faint trail over deadfalls and branches littering the ground from previous winter storms. Halfway through the pine forest section, I found a pile of bear scat that was very big and very fresh.?Now my juices were flowing. I continued on and made it to the open marsh and floodplain surrounded by lowland hardwood forests.?I picked my way along the marshes edge until I hit the flat, open woodlot carpeted by a sea of wild onions, grasses, and sedges.?I was ready to resume stealth mode when the “call-of-nature” that bear felt earlier struck me as well. It wasn’t just a call that I could ignore either---I shouldn’t have had those three over-ripe bananas and coffee for breakfast. 

Just inside the hardwood forest I had to “drop trou.” I know this is getting into TMI (Too Much Information) territory, but bear with me.?Most hunters that are in their “long-of-tooth” years will remember that old, iconic picture of the deer hunter squatting in the forest with his pants around his ankles, rifle just out of reach, and the buck of a lifetime standing broadside only yards away. Well, that image has always stuck with me, so I always keep my rifle within easy reach in such situations.?Of course, situated as I was, I was constantly looking over my surroundings. After all, I was in prime bear country and in a very vulnerable position. As I scanned the woodlot, a dark flicker caught my eye. Was I seeing things??A hulking, ghostly black shape materialized right in front of me through the hardwoods.?To my amazement—a mere 40 yards away—a large black bear was feasting on the greenery without a care in the world. 

Now when the sudden “urge” hit me, I wasn’t too shy about making some noise, getting my pack off my back, and moving quickly to assume the position.?But as luck would have it, the bear didn’t notice any of these unforgivable bear hunting sins (not to mention scent control).?Truth be told, I had a dilemma.?This was definitely a “shooter” bear no matter how early in the season, but with the bear so close I had to 1) finish my business and stand to pull up my unmentionables and pants to protect myself from the constant onslaught of hungry mosquitos, or 2) reach for my rifle and take a shot in my compromising position and chance a messy situation considering the recoil of my .45-70. I know what the old hunter in the picture wished he could have done, so I took the shot in what I would call the “squatting position”.?To my surprise and delight, the stricken bear didn’t even take a step forward and I didn’t tip over backward.  

I cleaned up in the nearby stream and walked over to my bear who died humanely of a broken heart.?I thanked the big boar for his life, and the Creator for his sense of humor.?I guess the lesson here is always be prepared for the unexpected, and don’t eat three ripe bananas and coffee for breakfast.