Bear-ly Scared

It had been a good fall, the cattle were all shipped and the cows were in a fresh field with lots of grass, so Dick and Billy got the urge to go elk huntin’.

“How ‘bout we load up our horses and some groceries and head up to the Bob Marshall Wilderness?” Dick hiccupped as he finished off his breakfast. (A barley sandwich.)

“That’s a heck of a good idea,” Billy belched in reply. “We can take along our fishin’ poles, too. You gather up some grub, an’ I’ll run in the horses. I’m sick o’ fixin’ fence anyway.”

In a couple of hours the two ramshackle cowboys were rattlin’ their way towards the mighty Rocky Mountains with their pickup box loaded down with gear and a trailer load of horses draggin’ behind. Now, Dick was a pretty experienced hunter and had been in the “Bob” lots of times in his younger days, but the only wild game experience Billy ever had was with the barmaid down at the Stockman.

“Ain’t there bears up there?” Billy asked his pardner, trying not to sound too scared.

“Yea!” Dick grinned with a gleam in his eye. “We might just get one o’ them too!”

“All we got is a couple of elk licenses,” Billy stumbled. “We better not mess with no bears.”

“Now, how in the dickens is a bear gonna know if ‘n we got a license ‘er not?” Dick grinned again as he shifted the old pickup down to pull a hill.

They got to the jump off point at the trailhead into the wilderness just as the sun was going down, and made camp there. The next morning they were off shortly before daylight, riding a couple of their best mounts and leading three packhorses all loaded up with their gear. Billy was a little spooked about bein’ in bear country, although he didn’t want to let on (Cowboys are tough, you know.) … but he finally confessed.

“I never did like bears too much,” he remarked as bravely as he could, looking over his shoulder. “What ‘r you figgerin’ on doin’ with one if you get ‘im?”

“Heck, we’ll just camp out up here ‘til we eat him up. Nuthin’ like a good bear steak.”

They were two days packin’ in on the trail and pitched their camp in a big meadow beside a little stream that was running over with trout. It was just like bein’ in Paradise. The next morning found them up at daylight again, in earnest search of the elk they were sure they’d find.

Oh, they found them alright, but didn’t have much luck. Billy shot up all of his shells in the first half a day and couldn’t hit a thing. Dick didn’t have any luck either, but had only gotten off a shot or two. Their guns were different sizes, so poor ol’ Billy was just up the creek.

“I told you to bring more shells.”

“I was gonna, but there wouldn’t have been enough room for the beer.”

That seemed like a reasonable argument, and Billy was enjoying the ride and the scenery anyway.

Along about two o’clock in the afternoon on the way back to camp, what should they jump but a big black bear. Dick didn’t have time for a shot as the old bruin loped down a slope and into his den in the rocks, with the boys in hot pursuit. Well, to be honest the boys really weren’t in agreement about just how fun this was. Dick was in hot pursuit, but Billy was taggin’ along at a fairly safe distance. When they got up to the den, they had a problem. They knew he was in there, but it was too dark in the hole to get a decent shot. Dick leveled his rifle at the door of the cave, but Mr. Bruin was too smart for that. They could hear him in there, but he wouldn’t come back out.

After a few minutes of waiting, it was time for another plan.

“Go throw a rock in there, Billy,” Dick ordered, still peering down his gun barrel.

“Not me! I don’t like bears, remember!”

“Dang it, Billy! This might be our only shot. … ’sides he ain’t a grizzly. It’s just a little black bear. You ain’t scared are you?”

Cowboys are tough, you know, and that’s one of the best ways to get ‘em to do something really dumb. The very suggestion of being afraid was all the encouragement that Billy needed. He tied his horse a little ways away and picked up a hand full rocks and began chucking them into the door of the cave. There was a lot of growlin’ coming from in there, and Billy was scared to death, but he was way too proud to admit it.

“That ain’t workin’, Billy! Get yourself a stick, and poke him in the face. When he comes out I’ll nail him!”

“I never DID like bears,” Billy thought to himself as he reluctantly headed to the bear’s den with a long tree limb. “How in the dickens did I get myself in this mess anyway?”

This time it worked. Out charged old Bruin with his teeth a snappin’ and Billy in his sights. Dick was true to his word, and got a shot off right away. He was sure he’d hit him good and hard, but the bear had turned around and headed back into his den. Billy didn’t have a clue if he’d hit him or not. He had his back turned to any place a bear might be and was takin’ forty foot strides down the mountain. He didn’t stop running for at least a hundred yards.

“Got ‘im!” Dick crowed to Billy as his shaky kneed pardner finally gained the courage to climb back up the hill. “... but he crawled back in that dang hole again.” The boys could hear the low growling in the cave getting fainter all the time. “Go throw a rope around his foot, and we’ll drag him out o’ there with the horse.”

“I never did like bears,” Billy protested.

“For cryin’ out loud, Billy, the durn thing’s dead! Besides, just as soon as we get him back out where I can get a good shot I’ll pump another one into him to make dang sure.”

There was still a little growlin’ coming from the den as Billy reluctantly headed in the door with the loop end of his lariat in his hand. It really didn’t take him very long to find a foot and get the rope on it, and it took even less time for him to get back out of there. As soon as the rope tightened up around his ankle, the growling got louder and the rope started to jerk violently as Mr. Bruin tried to kick it off.

“He dang shore don’t look very dead to me!” Billy squeaked, his face white as a ghost.

“Aw, they do that sometimes just before they croak. Go get your horse and pull him out of there.”

This was the only part of this whole operation that Billy thought MIGHT be a good idea. He certainly felt a whole lot more comfortable on horseback than he did afoot.

Billy took his dallies and pointed his horse between a couple of trees. As soon as the slack came out of the rope, the grumbling from the cave got louder again.

“OK! Pull ‘im out!” Dick ordered, staring down his gun barrel.

Billy put the spurs to his horse and headed for Texas with a mad bear on the end of his rope. Not only was Mr. Bear not a happy camper, he wasn’t even wounded. The boys found themselves with a very healthy and torqued-off bear on the end of their rope. Things got a little hectic there for a minute or two, but Dick finally got off a couple of good shots. Mr. Bear was now dead for sure.

It wasn’t until then they discovered that there were actually TWO bears in that hole. One of them WAS dead, but Billy had put his rope around the live one’s foot.

“Holy Cow! You could o’ got killed in there! Wasn’t ya scared?” Dick asked his pardner when the dust had finally settled.

“Naw,” Billy lied through his teeth. “I was just in kind of a hurry so I put the rope on the first foot I found ... never did like bears much, though.”

Ken Overcast is a recording cowboy singer that ranches on Lodge Creek in North Central Montana where he raises and dispenses B.S. http://www.kenovercast.com