Here are a couple stories of black bears....my father....and Ruger six guns I'd like to share if you would be so kind as to indulge me.
A little history about my father first, He's a Korean war vet (2nd Division, 38 infantry regiment 1950-1953) CIB, two purple hearts, Silver and Bronze star recipient among others) He has hunted his entire life, collects firearms and is an all around outdoors men. He has recently retired from his job of 50 years working with underprivileged kids from broken homes in an all boys school that he himself attended as a child. all in all he has spent all but 9 years of his entire life associated with the school. Originally an all military school is now only a minor part of it.
Along with his normal position (director of student activities) he also served as the schools camp director. The camp is located in northern WI. (Sawyer Co.), the camp along with the land was donated to the school many years ago It's nestled on the East Fork of the Chippewa River, a beautiful place indeed. Being the camp directors son me and my brothers spent all of our summers growing up in the north woods from 6 months old till young adults.
Now the bears.........
The first encounter he had was way back before I was born......it was the late spring of 1963 he was at camp finishing up the chores for the day and getting ready to turn in for the night. He had shot a snapping turtle earlier in the day with his trusty Ruger .22mag Single Six and had the turtle outside to dry out the shell. The guts were in a garbage can right below it (the shell was on the roof of a low garage) and some of the blood was dripping out of the cans.
It was late and dark out. The camp at this time had only crude electric service so there were no outdoor lights installed yet. He was about to turn off the garage lights when he noticed his Ruger hanging on a rail and thought "I might as well bring it up to the cabin". He slung the western rig over his right shoulder and closed to door. As he rounded to corner of the garage on his way to the cabin at the top of the gravel hilled road into camp (approx 75yds away) he noticed two sets of eyes in the moon light and knew right there and then what it was. Two cubs were licking the blood off of the can and trying to get into it for the turtle end trails.
No sooner did this all register when he heard the unmistakable sound of a bear running at him her claws digging at the gravel as she approached at full speed! He started to back up toward the lake and reached for his only chance, his sixgun on his hip..........it wasn't there, it was slung over his shoulder! As he fumbled to release the leather strap from the hammer to free the pistol the bear was close enough to smell. Instinctively he pulled the pistol pointed it in the direction of the sound and smell, eared back the hammer on the Ruger and pulled the trigger.
BLAM! the muzzle flash showed the eerie sight of a huge sow closing in on him. The bear rolled in font of him only to get to her feet and continue her charge not even skipping a beat....BLAM!.....BLAM! he fired again and again all the while backpedaling to allow some space between him and an angry set of teeth and claws hell bent on his destruction!. The bear rolled but again got up. By this time he found himself sliding down the steep bank down to the waters edge. His back bumped up against a big tree that was growing in the middle of the bank, as he slid to the water side of the trunk he heard the bear slam into the top side. The bear started to reach around the tree with her massive razor sharp claws trying to get a hold of the person causing her pain. This life and death game of "ring around the Rosie's" played on for a couple rotations around the tree. Finally seeing an opportunity, my father reached around the other side of the tree, put the pistol to the bear and BLAM! let another.22mag round into her.
Knowing he was running out of real estate (and ammo) he knew what he had to do. He dug the handle of the pistol into the ground and pulled himself back up the bank not knowing if the bear was right on his heels or dead. As he got to the top and started to make his way to the cabin to retrieve his 44-40 rifle, a person with a flash light runs up to him to ask what was going on. It was a truck driver who earlier in the day had brought in food and supplies for the upcoming camping season for all of the kids who would be arriving at the camp along with the rest of the staff.
Explaining what happened my father asked the driver to get into his truck and aim the lights onto the tree in the middle of the bank. The driver did and upon his return from the cabin (with his rifle) found that the mother had rounded up the cubs and treed them above her. She was at about 15ft up and the cubs slightly higher. They were all in the lights of the truck and he could tell she was bleeding badly.
Knowing what he had to do a well placed shot sent the bear tumbling down the tree and down the bank below the lights of the truck into the pitch black darkness of the waters edge. Not wanting any more excitement for the evening and very sure a well placed shot was made it was decided to "investigate" in the morning.
After first light sure enough the bear was right where she fell by the waters edge. After a few calls to the game warden the whole issue was figured out with no charges or citations issued. It was deemed (as it should have been) an act of self defense. The cubs hung around camp for a few days then wandered of to fend for themselves. This encounter no doubt was due to the cubs but it was the last thing my father expected. My father only ended up needing 20 stitches in his left leg and 4 on his right arm. His clothes were ripped and other minor cuts and scrapes but all in all he came through the ordeal fairly unscathed. You can still see the scars to this day on his leg.
The bear was taken by the warden where it was weighed and measured. I can't remember the exact numbers but I know she was close to 6ft and weighed in at 350+lbs which is very big for a Wisconsin sow bear especially in the late spring/early summer.
Encounter #2
Years later (mid 70's) he again had to kill a rogue bear that was coming into camp. This bear however was a completely different situation from his first encounter. The difference this time was the camp was full of kids and staff and this bear was very big and very old. My dad had scared it off on two other occasions with a shot gun but the bear kept returning. He phoned the warden (same one) to inform him of the situation. The warden told my dad that they would send someone out to dispatch the bear but if came into camp and was a threat to any of the kids before they could get to it, it was ok to kill the bear. My father showed restrain on the two other occasion the bear had come into camp. Not wanting to arbitrarily shoot a bear he was hoping to run it off with bird shot. So far it had worked on two occasions. The camp however is pretty spread out and the cabins take a while to get to on foot so he was a little uneasy about the bear willingly coming back into camp.
Well the bear indeed came back later that day at just about dusk. It had got in between a camper and one of the two "wash houses" on the grounds. I remember like it was yesterday my father running out toward the bear with a shotgun in one hand and a Ruger .44mag SBH strapped to his hip. Our dog (German Shepherd) was going crazy trying to get at the bear. He (the dog) had treed the bear the day before only to have the bear come down the tree and attack the dog but the Shepherd was too fast for the bear and was able to tree him again. (the dog weighed in at about 135lbs....big shepherd) My oldest brother was holding back the dog at my father's request while we all stood back and watched what unfolded.
There's my father standing about 25yds away from this bear who is growling and popping his jaws at him, circling to his left the bear was posturing for an attack! My father raised the shotgun and fired over the bears head in an effort to scare him off like he had in the days preceding........nothing, again he shot only this time right in front of the bear causing dirt and rocks to fly up into the bears face again nothing, the bears resolve was unshakable.
The bear had decided to make this afternoon his last stand. He started toward my father, as said, my dad being a hunter himself and having served in the army as a front line infantryman for three years in Korea was no stranger to danger. Having faced much more difficult and life threatening moments in the war and from his first bear attack, he was as calm as could be. He dropped the shotgun and drew his pistol. This time though his weapon was very much up to the task at hand, and with one shot from his Ruger he dropped the bear in his tracks! I was in awe.......
Again a call was made to the warden and again the killing was justified. I don't remember the exact size of this bear either but my dad said it was "much bigger than the big sow that tried to eat me years ago." He was able to keep the bear, unfortunately the pelt was ruined in a water leak some years ago but I've got the skull here in my office, it's big! I love my dad and I hope he sticks around for another 79 years.
Thanks for reading......
A little history about my father first, He's a Korean war vet (2nd Division, 38 infantry regiment 1950-1953) CIB, two purple hearts, Silver and Bronze star recipient among others) He has hunted his entire life, collects firearms and is an all around outdoors men. He has recently retired from his job of 50 years working with underprivileged kids from broken homes in an all boys school that he himself attended as a child. all in all he has spent all but 9 years of his entire life associated with the school. Originally an all military school is now only a minor part of it.
Along with his normal position (director of student activities) he also served as the schools camp director. The camp is located in northern WI. (Sawyer Co.), the camp along with the land was donated to the school many years ago It's nestled on the East Fork of the Chippewa River, a beautiful place indeed. Being the camp directors son me and my brothers spent all of our summers growing up in the north woods from 6 months old till young adults.
Now the bears.........
The first encounter he had was way back before I was born......it was the late spring of 1963 he was at camp finishing up the chores for the day and getting ready to turn in for the night. He had shot a snapping turtle earlier in the day with his trusty Ruger .22mag Single Six and had the turtle outside to dry out the shell. The guts were in a garbage can right below it (the shell was on the roof of a low garage) and some of the blood was dripping out of the cans.
It was late and dark out. The camp at this time had only crude electric service so there were no outdoor lights installed yet. He was about to turn off the garage lights when he noticed his Ruger hanging on a rail and thought "I might as well bring it up to the cabin". He slung the western rig over his right shoulder and closed to door. As he rounded to corner of the garage on his way to the cabin at the top of the gravel hilled road into camp (approx 75yds away) he noticed two sets of eyes in the moon light and knew right there and then what it was. Two cubs were licking the blood off of the can and trying to get into it for the turtle end trails.
No sooner did this all register when he heard the unmistakable sound of a bear running at him her claws digging at the gravel as she approached at full speed! He started to back up toward the lake and reached for his only chance, his sixgun on his hip..........it wasn't there, it was slung over his shoulder! As he fumbled to release the leather strap from the hammer to free the pistol the bear was close enough to smell. Instinctively he pulled the pistol pointed it in the direction of the sound and smell, eared back the hammer on the Ruger and pulled the trigger.
BLAM! the muzzle flash showed the eerie sight of a huge sow closing in on him. The bear rolled in font of him only to get to her feet and continue her charge not even skipping a beat....BLAM!.....BLAM! he fired again and again all the while backpedaling to allow some space between him and an angry set of teeth and claws hell bent on his destruction!. The bear rolled but again got up. By this time he found himself sliding down the steep bank down to the waters edge. His back bumped up against a big tree that was growing in the middle of the bank, as he slid to the water side of the trunk he heard the bear slam into the top side. The bear started to reach around the tree with her massive razor sharp claws trying to get a hold of the person causing her pain. This life and death game of "ring around the Rosie's" played on for a couple rotations around the tree. Finally seeing an opportunity, my father reached around the other side of the tree, put the pistol to the bear and BLAM! let another.22mag round into her.
Knowing he was running out of real estate (and ammo) he knew what he had to do. He dug the handle of the pistol into the ground and pulled himself back up the bank not knowing if the bear was right on his heels or dead. As he got to the top and started to make his way to the cabin to retrieve his 44-40 rifle, a person with a flash light runs up to him to ask what was going on. It was a truck driver who earlier in the day had brought in food and supplies for the upcoming camping season for all of the kids who would be arriving at the camp along with the rest of the staff.
Explaining what happened my father asked the driver to get into his truck and aim the lights onto the tree in the middle of the bank. The driver did and upon his return from the cabin (with his rifle) found that the mother had rounded up the cubs and treed them above her. She was at about 15ft up and the cubs slightly higher. They were all in the lights of the truck and he could tell she was bleeding badly.
Knowing what he had to do a well placed shot sent the bear tumbling down the tree and down the bank below the lights of the truck into the pitch black darkness of the waters edge. Not wanting any more excitement for the evening and very sure a well placed shot was made it was decided to "investigate" in the morning.
After first light sure enough the bear was right where she fell by the waters edge. After a few calls to the game warden the whole issue was figured out with no charges or citations issued. It was deemed (as it should have been) an act of self defense. The cubs hung around camp for a few days then wandered of to fend for themselves. This encounter no doubt was due to the cubs but it was the last thing my father expected. My father only ended up needing 20 stitches in his left leg and 4 on his right arm. His clothes were ripped and other minor cuts and scrapes but all in all he came through the ordeal fairly unscathed. You can still see the scars to this day on his leg.
The bear was taken by the warden where it was weighed and measured. I can't remember the exact numbers but I know she was close to 6ft and weighed in at 350+lbs which is very big for a Wisconsin sow bear especially in the late spring/early summer.
Encounter #2
Years later (mid 70's) he again had to kill a rogue bear that was coming into camp. This bear however was a completely different situation from his first encounter. The difference this time was the camp was full of kids and staff and this bear was very big and very old. My dad had scared it off on two other occasions with a shot gun but the bear kept returning. He phoned the warden (same one) to inform him of the situation. The warden told my dad that they would send someone out to dispatch the bear but if came into camp and was a threat to any of the kids before they could get to it, it was ok to kill the bear. My father showed restrain on the two other occasion the bear had come into camp. Not wanting to arbitrarily shoot a bear he was hoping to run it off with bird shot. So far it had worked on two occasions. The camp however is pretty spread out and the cabins take a while to get to on foot so he was a little uneasy about the bear willingly coming back into camp.
Well the bear indeed came back later that day at just about dusk. It had got in between a camper and one of the two "wash houses" on the grounds. I remember like it was yesterday my father running out toward the bear with a shotgun in one hand and a Ruger .44mag SBH strapped to his hip. Our dog (German Shepherd) was going crazy trying to get at the bear. He (the dog) had treed the bear the day before only to have the bear come down the tree and attack the dog but the Shepherd was too fast for the bear and was able to tree him again. (the dog weighed in at about 135lbs....big shepherd) My oldest brother was holding back the dog at my father's request while we all stood back and watched what unfolded.
There's my father standing about 25yds away from this bear who is growling and popping his jaws at him, circling to his left the bear was posturing for an attack! My father raised the shotgun and fired over the bears head in an effort to scare him off like he had in the days preceding........nothing, again he shot only this time right in front of the bear causing dirt and rocks to fly up into the bears face again nothing, the bears resolve was unshakable.
The bear had decided to make this afternoon his last stand. He started toward my father, as said, my dad being a hunter himself and having served in the army as a front line infantryman for three years in Korea was no stranger to danger. Having faced much more difficult and life threatening moments in the war and from his first bear attack, he was as calm as could be. He dropped the shotgun and drew his pistol. This time though his weapon was very much up to the task at hand, and with one shot from his Ruger he dropped the bear in his tracks! I was in awe.......
Again a call was made to the warden and again the killing was justified. I don't remember the exact size of this bear either but my dad said it was "much bigger than the big sow that tried to eat me years ago." He was able to keep the bear, unfortunately the pelt was ruined in a water leak some years ago but I've got the skull here in my office, it's big! I love my dad and I hope he sticks around for another 79 years.
Thanks for reading......
