This weekend I performed at the Fall Gathering, in Loomis, California. The Blue Goose Fruit Shed was filled as I opened the show to a sold out crowd of 400 aficionados of the cowboy poetry, music and storytelling. I performed four poems, including my latest “Shotgun and a Shovel” which I will share in a future column I promise.

The highlight of the weekend was that my good friend Kirk Edgerton, invited me to bunk at his house. I didn’t expect the short notice bear hunt we went on that Sunday.

At 4:30 Sunday morning we met up with Mike Hoppis, a successful hunter, predator caller and peace officer from the Sacramento area.  When we reached the hunting area in the Sierras, we were greeted with eight inches of snow, and 25 degrees at daybreak.  We hiked the first three miles of trail with no sign of big game.  The freshest tracks were the chipmunks and tree squirrels who were still caching pine nuts for the deep snow that would accumulate at 7000 feet.  At Kirk’s and Mike’s urging we walked over a small rise and and spied a large patch of Manzanita, across a steep ravine, and a few hundred feet lower. 

Now Manzanita berries are a favored food source for bears in California.  So we took off through the brush and rocks and trees to look for signs of Yogi.  By this time the fog was rolling in and out intermittently, and it had warmed up to 35, maybe 40 degrees.  The fresh snow in the trees and on the brush began to melt and it was a full blown downpour under the trees. By the time we reached the likely looking area we were all wet. 

After an hour of maneuvering to this good looking real estate, we begin to see bear sign. 

As we gazed across the ravine we had just crossed, I saw Kirk’s eyes get wide.  Back below, where we we had glassed across to the ridge we stood on, now a BIG bear was walking across an opening.  All hands scrambled for their rifles, and I took the first shot after Mike ranged the bear at over 400 yards.  Kirk followed with a two shot volley, and the bear disappeared into the timber, seemingly unhurt. 

Well, we three were cold, wet and had just missed the only bear we had seen all day.  As punishment for our poor marksmanship, Kirk decided we needed to go check for blood across the ravine we had circled earlier.  So he dropped off into the jaws of the beast across slick rock faces and through ankle snapping brush.  Once we crossed the creek it was back up through more of the same, to where the bear was standing when we opened fire.  We didn’t find any blood, and Kirk picked up the bear’s tracks in the patches of snow that still remained. 

We slogged back through the “Rain Forest”, soaked through and boots sloshing.  Even my Gore-tex lined boots were no match for the sheer volume of water that had wicked into my socks.  However each of us sported a smile that we had had an encounter.  As we relived the day over a deli sandwich, we all agreed that it had been a worthwhile outing despite missing the bear.