Did you know that a North American black bear can withstand being shot between the eyes at close range with a .22 caliber rifle? Allow me to share a personal story that vividly illustrates this remarkable fact. My home state of Utah is one of those states that requires you to apply for points to hunt bears. I applied for 11 years before I was able to draw a coveted summer black bear hunting tag. Drawing that tag was a moment of pure exhilaration. Not only was it in an area close to my childhood home, but it also held sentimental value because it was where I spent my formative years exploring the Rocky Mountains. 

This particular hunting unit wasn't densely populated with bears, making the hunt more challenging. However, my familiarity with the terrain, acquired through a lifetime of exploration and hunting, gave me an edge. My baiting efforts were hindered by heavy winter snowfall, but I did not let it discourage me. I knew of a lower area in elevation where the snowpack wasn’t as deep and I had previously seen bears there. I knew this would be a good spot to set up my bait. 

Remarkably, the proximity of the bait site to my home was a mere 40 minutes away, which streamlined the entire process. I was awestruck by the scenery surrounding my bait. Imagine the Rocky Mountains in Utah in early summer, a picturesque pine canyon with a natural spring trickling through its bottom with grass beginning to awaken, painting the landscape in vibrant green hues. It was a perfect spot on a south facing hillside overlooking a small opening through the pines where I placed my bait on the opposite side of the canyon. This offered a clear 175 yard shot directly across the canyon.   

Baiting bears, though enjoyable, demands substantial effort. Upon learning of my tag success, I immediately contacted local grocery stores for expired bakery goods, fast-food joints for their old cooking grease, and contacted Boremasters for scent attractants to enhance the bait. With a dedicated team of my close friend Brett, my brother James, and supportive wife DeeAnn, we all embarked on packing the bait into the designated area, making two trips to ensure everything was set up correctly. In Utah, regulations are very clear on bear baits; they stipulate that bait can only be set on the day the hunt begins, followed by a 30-day window for hunting. You can also use cellular trail cameras to monitor the bait site remotely. After everything was piled up and smelling like a candy factory, we headed back down the mountain filled with excitement and anticipation for the days ahead.   

We placed the bait on a crisp Tuesday morning and I sat on the bait the following Wednesday night and Thursday morning with no luck. The excitement peaked on Friday morning when I was awakened by my phone going off in the middle of the night with trail camera pictures of a beautiful, large cinnamon colored bear hitting my bait. However as dawn approached, he would vanish into the shadows of the thick timber. Before sunrise, I hurried up to my spot so I could catch him if he decided to come back out again. Despite planning to remain all day, a wind storm and his absence prompted my return back home around 10:00 a.m. 

As fate would have it, around 11:00 a.m. that same Friday, he reappeared on the trail cameras. I decided I should definitely return for an evening hunt and started preparing my gear. Just then, I received a phone call from my brother James who had just left the country for a vacation in the Dominican Republic. He wanted to ask me if I had seen a local city Facebook group post that included a photo of a massive bear paw in the dirt. The post was about a bear that had approached an undesignated campsite in the same area where he remembered we set the bait on Tuesday morning. 

According to the information from the post, here's how the adventure unfolded; it all started when this majestic bear wandered into the improvised campsite in the early hours of Thursday morning. A tent was nestled in the wilderness with a father and son dreaming away inside. And lo and behold, they had some queso stashed away, adding a dash of flavor to the tale. Now this bear, he wasn't just any bear; he was a wanderer, a seeker of adventure. He caught wind of that savory scent and couldn't resist sniffing around the tent. Under the ethereal glow of the full moon, the bear's massive head cast a haunting silhouette on the walls of the tent, prompting the father to grab his .22 rifle and unleash a single shot through the tent wall, sending the intimidating bear running back into the wilderness. This all played out on that fateful Thursday morning in the quiet hours before dawn. But it wasn't until Friday that the story truly took flight, spreading like wildfire across news channels and social media platforms.  

The urgency was palpable as my brother relayed the news. Local Game Wardens had already deployed traps, intending to relocate or euthanize the bear. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was the same bear that I had seen photos of on my trail camera that very same morning. 

I called my buddy, Brett, to explain what just happened. He replied, “I just saw that exact same post!” With the same sense of urgency, we rendezvoused at the trailhead to set off on our adventure. As we snuck into position across from the bait site, our hearts raced with the thrill of the unknown. 

The stage was set and the anticipation was palpable as we waited with adrenaline coursing through our veins. After only 20 minutes, the sound of branches breaking suddenly echoed across the canyon, signaling the arrival of the elusive boar. And there he was, emerging from the thick timber like a boss, imposing dominance as he confidently strutted around as if he was king of the mountain. His cinnamon red coat glistened as he sauntered towards the bait and, right then, I made up my mind—if he presented a clean shot, I was going to take it. His impressive features sealed the deal: a giant body, a striking scar etched across his face, and his massive, pristine claws that resembled those of a grizzly bear. 

With keen eyes and steady hands, we watched as the scene unfolded before us, nature's drama playing out in real time. It was a sight to behold because the bear's majestic presence commanded respect and awe. I turned to my friend, excitement coursing through me, and whispered, "Are you ready?" I heard his positive response as I got into the prone position and set up my rifle with precision, taking my time and a few deep breaths. I settled the crosshairs on the bear's vitals and with a steady aim, I squeezed the trigger. The echo of the 6.8 Western rang out across the landscape. And just like that, our adventure reached its climax; the bear's journey came to an end as he succumbed to the fatal shot just 30 yards from the bait. 

It was a moment frozen in time, a testament to the enduring spirit of adventure that courses through a hunter's veins. The sense of accomplishment was overwhelming. High fives, hugs, and even a few tears were shared between my friend and I. To have successfully hunted a bear in the very hills where I spent my childhood exploring was a profound experience. I immediately called my wife, DeeAnn, and said, “Big bear down!” She loaded up our dog Apache and jumped in her truck to join us for the celebration and pack out. 

As DeeAnn made her way up the canyon, she passed a gathering of local authorities and news crews, all searching for the bear that was now, unbeknownst to them, lying peacefully at rest. It was a surreal moment. I couldn't help but feel grateful that I was able to be a part of this bear's life and be the one to grant him a warrior's death, taking his last breath being wild and free instead of dying inside of a bear trap.  

I couldn't contain my excitement to finally kneel beside this magnificent bear and feel his presence firsthand. With Brett by my side, we gathered our gear and made our way toward him, feeling the anticipation building with each step. We found him resting under a giant douglas fir pine tree and a rush of emotions swept over me as I drew near. His majestic appearance took my breath away, leaving me in awe of his sheer beauty. Kneeling beside him, I gently placed my hand on his head, overcome with gratitude. "Thank you, my brother," I whispered, acknowledging the connection we shared. 

With reverence, Brett and I carefully moved him to a serene meadow directly below where he died. It was a fitting resting place for such a magnificent creature. As we cleaned him up for photos, I truly embraced the feeling of connection—not just to the bear, but to the land itself—Mother Earth, Father Sky—and it was a moment of profound gratitude, a reminder of the interconnectedness of all living beings. Just then, my wife's voice echoed across the canyon, her excitement palpable as she spotted us. It was a beautiful sight, her joy mirrored in our own. 

Taking a moment, as we always do, I felt a deep desire for my wife to share the sage burn with us. As a Native American, I perform this ancient ritual to honor the passing of the bear's spirit onto his next journey. Performing the sage burn over the bear was a very spiritual moment, a solemn acknowledgment of the circle of life and the respect owed to every creature that walks this earth. It's a ritual I believe every animal deserves, a moment of gratitude for the sacrifice they've made. 

As we finished skinning and quartering the bear, darkness had descended on us. We loaded up our packs and began hiking back to the trucks. The mountainside was illuminated by the glow of the full moon, so the entire journey felt nothing short of extraordinary. 

The following day, I made the necessary call to the Fish and Game authorities to report the kill, a requirement in Utah within 48 hours. Their response was immediate and intense, with everyone eager to learn the details surrounding this remarkable bear. Fish and Game officials visited my home, scrutinizing the circumstances and even combing the kill site with metal detectors in search of clues. Everyone was trying to determine if this was possibly the same bear they had been trying to capture. They also scanned the carcass of the bear with a metal detector trying to find the .22 caliber bullet that was fired from the father inside his tent, indicating they located the suspect bear. There was one exceptional officer who took great interest in this case. She followed up on every clue and tip that we could provide, but couldn’t conclude with surety that this was the bear they were looking for. She even hiked into our bait site several times to go over all the details surrounding the case and eventually helped us clean up our bait site. 

But it was what they missed that revealed the truth behind this story. Funny thing, a different group of Fish and Game Officers came to my home to inspect the bear's hide for any trace of a .22 caliber bullet. But they never checked the bear’s skull with a metal detector. The shocking discovery was made when my taxidermist John Hayes in Montana discovered something astonishing during the skinning process—a .22 caliber bullet lodged between the bear's eyes. It was a jaw dropping discovery, proving the bear's incredible strength and will to live. He was a true warrior of the mountain. 

This experience deepened my appreciation for bear hunting and the strength of the animals we hunt. I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for the support of my family and friends. This was more than just a hunt; it was a journey back to my roots, a testament to the bonds forged in my hometown hills. And as I savor the delicious meat of this bear, I'm reminded once again of the beauty and significance of the circle of life.