The shot looked good on the video, Ben’s arrow hit the bear broadside at the bait barrel. The bear reared up twice on its hind legs like an enraged stallion, flailing its front legs furiously in the air and then it ran off out of view of the camera. Prior to the shot we viewed some great footage of this bear coming into the bait. It appeared to be of decent size.

The bear had an hour before the outfitter came in to retrieve his hunter. The men took off to trail the bear into the evening darkness. There was a good blood trail for a while but it became difficult for them to continue so they backed out for the night. Ted, my guide, and I were waiting for them on the road. It was here that we watched what transpired on digital video. We would return at first light to begin the search from the last known marker. Ted had to take some other sportsmen out for some fishing and he would meet up with us later in the morning.

Bright and early we took off for the dense New Brunswick forest where Ben’s stand was. The morning dawned cold with frost, but it was going to be sunny. Picking up the trail from their last known spot we proceeded. Besides Ben, myself, and outfitter Kevin, we were joined by another local guide and champion moose caller, Billy. After shooting the bear Ben heard the bruin give out a lengthy death moan so we were sure we would find his bear in short time now that we had the benefit of daylight.

In earnest, we began marking each bit of blood we found. Soon we found ourselves in the swampy area located approximately 500 yards out front of the bear stand area. The New Brunswick forest is composed of many species of trees, but is dominantly black spruce. Here in the swamp we also had cedar, tamarack, birch and maple as well as the perennial and aptly named tag alder. Our tracking took us over a large area, much larger than anticipated from the description of the bear’s condition and death moan. Soon we noticed a pattern with the survey tape we hung on each branch once spoor was found. Some of the blood was wet and we attributed that to the overnight frost, which was now melting. The pattern of the flags showed the bear had circled much of the night through the swamp.

Often the trail diminished and was lost. It was only with great effort, on hands and knees that the guys would find again some new blood. Each time I would tag the location with the brightly colored tape. The swamp became denser and thicker with shadows and tall foliage. Downed trees and their uprooted stumps permeated the area, often impeding our movement, as we had to crawl over these tangled obstacles.

Again Kevin found himself on hands and knees searching for blood and I stood directly behind him ready with the marking tape. Suddenly, we both saw movement at the same time, but from very different vantagepoints. Under the skeleton of a fallen dead spruce moved a black object. Kevin was nearly face to face with a very alive and very wounded black bear. He could not have been more than three feet away and the bear was facing him, looking directly at him. He was unarmed and I was standing at his left side, near where his knees rested on the ground. We were in a grave situation. All of this realization happened in less than a second and we both backed off as fast as adrenaline allowed.

I am not sure if this is confined to only New Brunswick, but guides there are not allowed to carry firearms when pursuing wounded game. This hunt was an archery only season so none of the hunters could pursue the bear with a firearm either. The danger we were in was imminent, as a badly wounded bear obviously in pain was now feeling cornered by several humans in HIS forest. The other members of the search party were mere feet from our position. We could see the bear’s body under the tree and the tall swamp grass moving. No one moved a muscle. Suddenly the bear decided to run away and busted through the brush away from the group. It stopped 20 yards away, completely hidden now. No one got a real good look at the bear; all we could see before it ran was the shiny black fur. Hearts were beating very strongly in the morning calm.

With no weapon among the group other than knives, Kevin and Ben had to go back to camp and retrieve Ben’s bow. This was his bear and he would have to finish it. Why he did not bring his bow out during the initial search is a mystery, but my assumption was since a death moan was heard the night before it was anticipated a dead bear was going to be found this morning. Billy and I backed off a bit remained where we were to note any further movements made by the bear. The bear made another attempt to move away as Ben and Kevin left. Though we still could not see it, we knew it was still very close but now about fifty yards ahead through the alders and tall grass. We made ourselves comfortable while waiting for the return of Ben and Kevin. Billy and I talked in low voices of hunting, life, and what we anticipated happening with our present situation.

They returned with Ted in tow. More folks made for a more secure approach, now that we knew what we were facing. It was decided it would be best if Ben and Kevin took point since Ben now had his bow. Again, no firearms were allowed to conclude this situation. The rest of us hung back with eyes wide open. The pursuing men stopped and we all saw Ben draw his bow. The humid morning air went quiet. We could see nothing of what they were seeing so it seemed like an eternity for the arrow to leave the tensed bow.

For us observers we heard the unmistakable bellow of a wounded bear. We could hear the bear crash off further into the brush. The arrow hit home, but where? Was this a killing shot? We moved forward to where Kevin and Ben stood. From there we all moved cautiously forward and found the bear dying along the bank of a small forest brook. It was not long before he totally expired; the second shot was through the heart. Amazingly the first arrow was still in this bear, bent at an awkward angle but firmly adhered through the right shoulder and into the opposite side, exiting the neck of the animal. Both men explained when they came upon the bear it was lying down broadside to them against the bank of the brook. This time it never lifted its head.

Surprisingly and lucky for us this was a small bear which appeared to be around 120 pounds in size. His right shoulder was swollen and blood soaked. Our morning tracking job showed we must have been pushing the bear as it circled throughout the swamp but never leaving it. It must have finally decided it had been pushed enough. Had this been a mature animal, I have no doubt we would have been mauled under the same circumstances.