Bears & Bows: A Great Combination

Loverboy strutted into the wilderness bait site in all his grandeur, patiently following a sow. Late June at the Arctic Circle is prime rut for black bears. After several days of observation from the shooting platform, I knew Loverboy was a boar — and the best bear I’d seen on my hunt. He wasn’t a monster, but he was a very mature bear.

My longbow, an arrow nocked and ready, rested in my bow hand as my eyes tracked the boar’s movement. He’d slipped past me before, but this time — 4:20 a.m. on the fourth day of a five-day hunt — I did not intend for him to be so lucky again. He crossed behind two trees, nudging the sow, and turned broadside. I nodded to Carl, my guide, and he hit the record button on my video camera. My intention as a true instinctive shooter is to set in a solid anchor, hesitate and pull through a perfect release. My brain said “now” when I locked my eyes on a rough tuft of hair just behind the bear’s front leg. I vaguely remember scraping the corner of my mouth, and the white-fletched arrow was sailing on its way.

Pursuing Predators

Bears and bows are a great combination. Bears are a serious predator, and bowhunting them comes with an element of danger; those claws and teeth aren’t for show. I’ve hunted and taken polar bear, brown bear and grizzly bear on spot-and-stalk hunts. They are in a class of their own, each with their own special challenges for a bowhunter. The black bear doesn’t get quite as much respect as the other bears, but it is no slouch. The black bear actually attacks and kills more people than the other three North American bear species combined. The reason should be somewhat obvious, as black bears are abundant and roam freely from Maine westerly to Washington state, south into Arizona, and North past the Arctic Circle.

Black bears are the most serious predator on our continent; one study in Montana indicated they killed 90 percent of the elk calves in a few regions. They don’t just stop at killing babies. Several years ago in Eagle County, Colorado, I interrupted an elk herd moving through some “dark” timber. We call it dark timber because it’s exactly that, dark brown soil with a canopy of spruce trees so thick it is dimly lit in daytime hours. The elk steadily moved through the forest on a single trail as I slowly moved up the steep slope to fill my elk tag. Just when I spotted a set of antlers that held promise, a huge commotion erupted as an oversized black bear charged in from above me and took a dive at a cow elk, 25 yards to my right. The spruce forest erupted with pounding hooves and broken limbs as 20-plus elk exploded in all directions. Based on that encounter, I believe black bears do hunt and harvest mature big-game animals. As with any predator that has conflict with man and domestic stock, they must be managed. My hunting buddies of Greek descent have many stories of bears slaughtering sheep. Hunting is effective, although with states having restrictions on using dogs, baiting and spring hunts, bears are becoming more of a problem across the West.

Black bears haven’t missed the attention of bowhunters. Only whitetail deer and elk account for more entries in the Pope and Young Club’s Record Book of North American Big Game than black bear entries. A huge reason for the popularity is access, and the second might be that twist of danger. I’ve never carried a pistol in the November rut to protect myself from whitetail deer, but I sometimes do in the Colorado Rockies, when I possess a bear tag.

Spring bears are eating machines. After a long winter hibernation, they are on a rampage to fatten up. That is probably why bear baiting is so effective. My first bear hunt was over bait in Saskatchewan, Canada. I eventually went on spot-and-stalk hunts in Colorado, Alaska and British Columbia. I liked the spot-and-stalk hunts best. I’ve also killed bears at water holes in September, while in a treestand. I guess that could be considered a distant cousin of baiting, and it’s a lot of fun. Whether a traditional bait site, water or sitting over an animal carcass, the benefit for the elevated bowhunter is the potential for a bear unaware of the hunter’s presence to present that perfect quartering-away shot. The chest cavity narrows towards its brisket, with that evil shoulder blade looming above and forward of the lungs. When excited at close range, and shooting out of a treestand, the shoulder shot is all too common. The quartering-away shot allows a much bigger window for success.

I’ve heard very strong statements from youthful bowhunters who have harvested numerous deer that hunting bears would be no big deal. Many of them returned from their first hunt with a lot more respect for what they considered the lowly black bear. Many have had stories of blown chip shots and encounters with bears that raised their heart rate.

Let’s not forget the beauty of a bear rug in front of the hearth or on the wall above the couch in the den. My young nieces would first ooh and ah at the size, touch the fur and then feel the teeth. I’ve been asked many times, “So, you shot that with a longbow?” Bear hunters do get some added respect.

North to Adventure!

At the 2023 Pope and Young banquet in Reno, Nev., I was nosing around for a spring adventure. The pandemic had really put a dent in my pipeline of hunts, planned well in advance. It was a little late, but a guy has to try. A very tempting Alberta black bear hunt with two tags caught my interest. As stated earlier, I’ve rarely hunted baited black bears, but it sounded like an adventure, and I was in need of an escape. Not two hours later, an Alaskan outfitter I’ve hunted with several times — Stan Parkerson of Denali Hunts in Fairbanks — told me he had one opening for a baited black bear and grizzly hunt a couple miles south of the Arctic Circle. To make it more of an adventure, it involved a long flight in a Super Cub with no known competing hunting operations. I was hearing buzzwords that lit my hunting fire — wilderness, Super Cub, Arctic Circle and grizzly. It was probably entrapment, and I got snared!

On the flight to camp, Stan told me no grizzlies had showed up yet, but the black bears were coming in. We landed on a remote strip a mile from a trapper’s cabin. My guide Carl got me situated in the cabin. The original owner, now deceased, used to winter here. It’s a tad odd looking, as it’s built on top of 4-foot-high vertical logs around 30 inches in circumference. I asked, “What’s up with the stilts?”

“Bears,” Carl replied. Bears tend to break down doors and windows and destroy cabins. The elevated cabin had worked over years, outside the occasional attempt to claw through the floor. The 12x18-foot cabin had two single beds, a small dining table and a propane cook stove, everything needed for our adventure.

No lighting system was needed in mid-June, as it never gets dark so far north. The outfitter said the best time to hunt was 10 p.m.-5 a.m. I pictured myself falling sound asleep after midnight my first time on stand, but surprisingly, I made it to 5 a.m. without dozing off, as the parade of bears kept the adrenaline flowing.

Lots of bears is great; the hard part is sorting out the boars. It’s illegal to shoot sows accompanied by cubs, and most outfitters want hunters to shoot boars. Every black bear article mentions how to tell the boys from the girls. Just like our current society, it’s hard to tell sometimes. Small-bodied bears with big ears and pointy noses are obviously sows or immature males. If a bowhunter sees a bear that looks like a black sofa and has a head like a giant melon, it’s a shooter. The dilemma is that most bears are in between these two extremes. The rut helps, as an aggressive, mature boar will harass every sow in sight. However, when only one bear is in front of you, it’s not so obvious, since you have nothing to compare it with. It’s never easy, and even after more than 30 years of hunting black bears, I’m no expert.

One bear was easy to identify, as he apparently was courting every girl in town. He’d calmly walk up to a sow, sniff around and give her a nudge. The sow would respond with a playful bite or soft tap of her paw. Some would roll on their side and wrestle with him a bit. I immediately called him Loverboy. He had little discretion; if it had hair, Loverboy was interested! He was one of only two bears I saw over the course of several days that was for sure a boy. Even though his belly was fairly flat, he was long (at least 1.5 feet longer than most bears I’d observed) and lean, as his desire for love was trumping his desire for food. His skull looked OK, but not overwhelming. We saw Loverboy for three days; he was fun to watch, but always on the move, and rarely presented a good shooting angle.

I had a similar problem with a gorgeous cinnamon bear. Carl was pretty sure it was a girl. I was leaning toward it being a male, but it definitely did not have a huge skull. The hide was a real trophy, but it never presented the classic, quartering-away shot.

On day four, I decided Loverboy was on the hit list, as nothing bigger had made an appearance. We got settled on the tree platform as usual around 10:30 p.m. It was a pleasant evening, with temperatures in the 40s. I thought my bear had wandered off, but at 4:18 a.m., I looked to my right and Loverboy was on his way in with a date.

Six hours of waiting and the early hour had me a bit fatigued, but I snapped back to action mode quickly. The arrow fletched with white feathers was easy to see on the black hide as it struck tight behind the front leg of the boar. Loverboy made it less than 18 yards and luckily collapsed short of the stream. I was suddenly wide awake and ready for all the work involved in transporting and skinning the bear.

On the fifth and last day of the hunt, I left the trapper’s cabin with a grizzly tag in my pocket, which could also be used for a second black bear. On the trail to the treestand, I remembered I had forgotten to strap on my pistol. I thought to myself, My guide has one; it’s no big deal. Two hours after arrival late in the evening, a twin to Loverboy showed up; an obvious boar and very aggressive. He strutted in and stared and smelled but didn’t eat. Obviously, he was experiencing this scenario for the first time. Likely he’d never seen a human. I decided to pass, as he wasn’t substantially bigger than my bear, and I had some more time to see what else showed up.

An hour into the bear laying claim to the spot and chasing off all newcomers, he noticed us on the tree platform. We were maybe 8 feet up, and when he leaned on the ladder, his head was about 12 inches below our feet. My lack of personal protection became dreadfully obvious. Some strong words and pepper spray only made the boar back up 8 yards. “I think we might have trouble leaving here tonight,” Carl said. Well, that was an understatement.

After much commotion and shouting, the aggressive bear backed off about 30 yards. I had the pepper spray and Carl had a .44 Mag. We moved quickly as the bear circled around and followed us to the ATVs. I looked over my shoulder several times as we whisked away. What an adventure!

Nathan Andersohn, a businessman and real estate attorney from Broomfield, Colo., is a dedicated traditional archer who has taken all 29 species of North American big game with a longbow.

Author's Notes: On this hunt, I shot a 51-pound ACS longbow, Carbon Express 250 Heritage arrows and Razorcap broadheads. I wore KUIU apparel and LaCrosse boots. For information on booking your own black bear hunt in the far north, visit denalihunts.com or call Outfitter Stan Parkerson at 907-455-6056.

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