Whisker to Whisker: Manitoba Bear Hunt at Close Range!

The gentle lapping of waves on the rocky shoreline 30 yards away was relaxing, as were the haunting cries of nesting loons, reaching my ears on the subtle breeze from all corners of the big lake. Throw in the warm, Manitoba sunshine filtering through the pines, coupled with several sleepless nights from anticipation and two days of travel to reach this remote corner of the province, and it was difficult to stay focused!

I was sitting on a stool 25 feet from this remote bait site along the north shore of Mahekun Lake, a large body of water 180 miles northwest of Thompson, Manitoba. Reached only by float plane, this lake embodies true wilderness and is a highly sought after destination for walleyes, northern pike, moose, and the giant black bears that drew me to this outpost.

Early on, entertainment was provided by a multitude of pine squirrels, whiskey jacks, ravens, and a curious pine marten that visited my ambush. But at exactly 7:30 p.m., I turned slowly to look over my left shoulder and was surprised to see a big bear inside 40 yards and closing! Even after 34 spring seasons bowhunting bears all across Canada, it always amazes me how such a big, powerful animal can move in complete silence, like a wisp of black smoke oozing through the timber.

As the axiom goes, “The big ones always look big,” and this bruin left no doubt he was a shooter: ears stretched out nearly to the sides of his blocky head and he had a heavily creased forehead and multiple scars across his nose and face — the marks of a true warrior. His path would bring him past me at a distance of maybe 10 feet, but I intended to let him walk by and reach the bait barrel before I made any move. A black bear does not have the best eyesight in the world, especially if a hunter is fully camouflaged and remains totally still, but they are always alert and aware of their surroundings. I wasn’t sure I would go unnoticed at point-blank range. I didn’t!

At 10 feet, just after clearing the small pines I was using for background cover, the brute stopped cold and his beady, little eyes bored a hole in my camo form. Daring not to even breathe, I was frozen like a statue as the big bear slowly backed up and began circling my ambush. I didn’t want to turn my head for fear he’d catch the movement and spook. So, I followed his trail by the soft footfalls reaching my ears, but when the pines behind me began to move. I eased around just enough to see his scarred, wet nose poke through and start sniffing my elbow. Too close! My heart began a jack-hammer pounding that seemed to echo off the surrounding timber; definitely more cardio than a 61-year-old heart should be subjected to! I’ve had my share of close encounters over the course of my bear-hunting career, but nothing like this, and just when I thought my nervous system was about to implode, the record-class bear decided to ratchet things up a notch.

Worth the Wait

I was bowhunting with Russell Bettschen, owner of Lynn Lake Fly-In Outpost Camps. Russ and his wife Lori have welcomed hunters and fishermen to northern Manitoba for decades, and their remote camps are a bucket-list destination for sportsmen and women looking for stringers full of walleyes and giant pike or trophy moose and black bears. This trip had actually been scheduled for three years earlier, but when Covid hit and the border closed, everything was put on hold. Waiting patiently for things to return to normal is not an easy thing to do, especially when a trip of this magnitude gets delayed, but everything finally fell into place, and I was headed north from my home in Minnesota in mid-June of 2023.

A 14-hour drive and an overnight in Thompson did little to ease my excitement, and finally I was sitting at the float plane base, Wings Over Kississing, on the northeast edge of town. The flight in the de Havilland Otter was a brief one with a stiff tailwind, and in little more than an hour I was shaking hands with Russ and guide Joe Fleury on the dock at the lodge. To say this remote location offered all the comforts of home would be an understatement, as the island-based lodge had generator power, hot showers and even WiFi so hunters and fishermen could reach out to loved ones; remote wilderness, yes, Spartan camp, no! Beds were comfortable, food was delicious and plentiful, the fishing was incredible and the views from the lodge spectacular. But I was here to arrow a giant bear with my longbow, and arrow I did!

Epic Action

Stepping back a couple feet, the brute began circling to the east. I assumed he had satisfied his curiosity and would now proceed to the bait and offer a shot; not so fast! As he passed my hide, he stopped and looked at me again from point-blank range, but this time, instead of backing up, he decided an even closer look was in order. I had a small, dead pine tree laying diagonally beside me, and as he reached the base of the tree, he stepped over with one front foot, then his second front foot, then one back foot, and finally his second back foot, and was now literally IN the blind with me! I’m not sure I was even breathing at this point, but my heart was definitely working overtime! I could have reached forward and put my hand atop his pumpkin of a head, but in truth I had no clue what to do. I didn’t want to spook him so badly that he left and never returned, nor did I want to provoke an attack at such close range. After a brief stare down, I moved my right foot ever so slightly, making an almost imperceptible rustling sound in the caribou moss below me. At such close range, it must have been deafening, because the bear spun around and ran head-long into a nearby pine! Eventually, he retreated to the lake shore, where he alternately lay down, sat up, drank and tested the air, but he finally made his way to the bait site 8 yards away.

After such a heart-pounding encounter, the shot was fairly anticlimactic: my heart rate and breathing had returned to a manageable level, so I needed only to wait for the boar to present a perfect shot: for quite some time, he wouldn’t stop moving, pushing and pulling logs from in and around the bait barrel, and then he would alternately lay down or sit on his haunches like a dog, neither of which offers a great shooting angle. So, I sat patiently with tension on the string of my 52-pound Prairie Panther longbow. At last, the big bear rose, turned slightly and looked up the hill to the north, and I quickly drew the heavy, footed arrow to my cheek and sent the shaft on its way. As the arrow struck the spot I was looking at, the bear let out a loud woof and ran up the hill, stopped briefly, and then slowly walked off to where he had come two hours earlier. The woods grew silent, and I was immediately struck with an intense feeling of exhaustion.

Eventually, the sound of Joe’s boat motor reached my ears, and he and fellow bear hunter Dave Blanchard from Minnesota listened, wide-eyed, as I retold my story and showed where the bear had been standing. With darkness approaching, the decision was made to take up the bear’s trail in the morning, and the next day I was finally able to lay my hands on this exceptional trophy.

I detest the word epic, because it is overused to describe outdoor adventures. That said, I can think of no other adjective to describe the excitement of this adventure. Having a trophy boar inside 10 feet on five separate occasions, and inside 5 feet twice, certainly qualifies! We estimated my bear at weighing more than 300 pounds, with a skull that measured more than 19 inches. Although I don’t care to enter animals in any sort of record book, this bruin will forever be my best bear.

So, the question is, how close is too close? I’d say whisker to whisker is definitely too close! Epic indeed.

Joe Blake is a regular Bowhunter contributor and dedicated traditional archer and bowyer from Minnesota.

Author’s Notes

Regardless of what game I’m after, I carry one of my own Prairie Longbows that I craft in my shop in Minnesota. I also rely on a Thunderhorn Lynx quiver made by Duane Jessop of Montana; heavy, footed, Douglas fir arrows handcrafted by Steven Burns of Oregon; and 190-grain, 3-blade VPA broadheads. Specific to bear hunting, since the bugs in remote Canada are legendary, I always carry a Thermacell to repel mosquitoes.

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