My daughter, Teagan, and I enjoy spring bear hunting over bait in interior Alaska for special reasons I’ll explain later. Baiting season opens April 15^th, a time of year commonly referred to as “Break-Up,” where temperatures and slushy conditions vary significantly from year-to-year. We land on remote frozen lakes, rivers, and tundra with ski-equipped airplanes, then snowshoe hundreds of pounds of cheap dog food, powdered sugar, and a bucket of foul-smelling “stuff” to our registered bait sites. Then, as soon as the ice melts and we can get back to the baits, we check them by airplanes on tundra tires or floats sometime around mid-May. 

For this hunt, Teagan and I were dropped off mid-afternoon on June 4^th by a float-equipped Cessna 185. As the airplane departed, it sunk in… we were alone, except for the bears and mosquitos. Before getting set, Teagan and I have a ritual of putting out several jars of marshmallow fluff on stumps and branches that eventually gets stuck to bear feet and noses. Then, from our elevated platform and hub-style blind, we discuss shot placement and practice getting ready each time a new bear shows up. At approximately 11:30 pm, the big boar we had seen on the game camera finally showed up. We were not worried about the time of day because this far north, we really wouldn’t see darkness until around 3:00 am, and then it would begin to get light again by 4:00 am. He was a cagy guy who had our location pinned and was very aware of his position relative to ours. He laid behind the barrel for over 20 minutes slowly scooping paw-fulls of food from behind cover.

We were heartbroken when the bear slowly got up and left without giving Teagan a shot. I thought she would lose her patience, but she kept at it as I whispered words of encouragement. Even though the spring foliage was dense, I could still see his outline behind the bait. He milled about for a few minutes then walked back into the opening, standing broadside. Unfortunately, two spruce trees were between us and didn’t give Teagan a wide enough opening for her shot. One slow step, another slow step, and his ribcage was fully exposed by the third step, and I asked Teagan if she was on him? She replied, “yes,” and as I whispered our shooting ritual to her, the shot rang out and connected solid. The boar woofed, made 3-4 crashing bounds, then balled-up dead within thirty feet of where he was shot. Wow! I moved quickly to get Teagan’s electric ear muffs off, so she did not have to hear the amplified “death moan” often produced by dying black bears.

A grand celebration took place as we recalled all the hours of preparation over the years that led to this glorious moment. Thirty minutes or so had passed since she shot, the woods were settled, and it was time to get our hands on her first bear. I went to work clearing brush and tugging on legs to get the bear prepared for that “perfect” photo. When Teagan reluctantly sat down next to him, I didn’t see it… I didn’t see the hesitation and the fear she had of that bear. There I was in all my glory, the proudest dad you could imagine. I was talking to Teagan, teaching her, and explaining the process every step of the way but I just didn’t see her physical reaction being that close to a big predator, dead or not. I finally got her bear posed just right, cleaned him up, and gave him much thanks. Now for pictures, the easy part, the fun part. Not! I took the first photo at 12:41 am and noticed Teagan looked petrified; then, the tears began when the second photo was taken at 12:42. I want to say I did everything right and was the perfect dad, but most likely I fumbled through it and made matters worse. We tried thumbs up and dad jokes, but the tears kept coming. I’m sure she became as frustrated with me as I was with her, and her only outlet was crying. I was task-driven because I knew there was a lot of work to do, which involved getting Teagan a good meal and tucked into a sleeping bag, skinning, butchering, and packing. By 1:10 am we dried the tears best we could and started taking pictures again. It is what it is, and at some point, enough photos were taken, and we were both exhausted; it was 1:30 am.

 

I helped Teagan climb back up into the blind and told her to get a snack and get ready for bed. I walked towards the lake to “water a tree” when I heard the distinct sounds of a distant black bear popping its jaws from a trail up behind our bait. I quickly began the climb up the short ladder while telling Teagan another black bear was coming in. As I reached the top rung of the ladder and was about to step onto the platform, all hell broke loose below me. It was so violent, so loud, so out of place that I couldn’t wrap my head around it at first, but when the enormous head and body of a grizzly bear came into focus, I realized we were in a bit of a situation. I quickly jumped up on the low platform and looked directly down at this enraged animal ripping two-inch diameter trees out of the ground like they were nothing. I rushed into the blind and said to Teagan, “Are you okay? Sit down now!”  I peered directly down from the blind and tried to figure out what this bear had in store for us. The way this Grizz looked at us, I could tell no kind intentions were going through his mind. He would undoubtedly maul us if we were on his level, and that’s exactly what he wanted. He was well over 8 square feet of impeccable fur and shooting a grizzly over bait was legal in our location. The problem was that I had been fortunate enough to harvest a grizzly about a week and a half ago, so that tag was already punched.

Teagan sat there and took in the chaos. I was yelling at the bear, and he was roaring right back. There was so much thrashing and crashing, and as suddenly as he erupted from the brush, he disappeared, running directly over Teagan’s dead black bear. Did that just happen, I though. Then it sunk in as to how fortunate we were not to have been mauled, or worse. I mean, we were on the ground, right there, within seconds before he let loose. Whatever set the Grizz off, I am sure glad we didn’t have to face him on his level. We listened to him let loose with several more distant temper tantrums, but all was quiet again after a few long minutes. The woods took on a whole new eerie feeling as we reached the darkest hours of the night. Teagan assured me she was okay, and I was not about to convey how serious our situation was. To her, it was just another day in the woods with dad hunting bears.

We had a black bear that needed tending to but getting out of the tree was not an option, at least right now. I was worried about the meat and hide and surely didn’t want a single ounce of Teagan’s hard-earned bear to go to waste. I contemplated a reasonable time for me to get back on the ground safely, and after about thirty minutes, my question was answered. He was back! Out of nowhere, the Grizz came pouring back into our lives. He stood on his hind legs and looked directly up at us. His open jaws, yellow teeth, black gums, and bright pink tongue were quite vivid at just several feet away. Once again, I found myself face to face with this monster, tracking his every move with my crosshairs. The Grizz and I were in gridlock. He looked mad as hell wishing he could get at us as and I stared down wishing he would just leave us alone. Again, just as soon as he came back into our lives, he ran off, taking the path directly over Teagan’s bear.

The big Grizz never touched Teagan’s bear and visited two more times, each time just as violent as the first. The woods would seem to just quiet down, and then he’d bust back in beneath our stand as if to appear out of thin air. How can something be so quiet one second and so ferocious the next? About 30 minutes came and went, and our Grizz had not returned or at least showed himself. Teagan eventually fell asleep at 3:50 am. I settled into my chair with my rifle in my lap and dozed off as morning slowly came into our lives.

At 7:00 am, I had a discussion with Teagan that no dad should ever have with their daughter. I gave Teagan strict instructions NOT to come down out of the blind no matter what happened to me, no matter what, and to WAIT until my buddy in his floatplane arrived later in the morning. I stood at the base of the stand, and Teagan looked down at me while I surveyed the area of ripped-up trees where the Grizz had been just a few hours ago. Where was he now? Was he waiting just out of sight to maul me in front of my daughter? You know, average questions running through any dad preparing to walk down a path in the woods. I took one last glance at Teagan and as sternly as I could, reminded her, “No matter what! Do not come down from that tree!” 

Rigor mortis was set in so maneuvering Teagan’s large bear was nearly impossible. Now and then I’d hear, “Dad, are you okay? Do you hear the bear?”  I would respond “No” and asked her how she was doing and if she needed anything. Although rushed, I managed to skin Teagan’s bear without cutting myself or putting extra holes in the bear’s hide. I was elated to find out the hide and meat were in perfect condition; nothing would have made me feel worse than having slipped hair and sour meat. As I loaded the last game bag full, I heard the sound of a small, single-engine aircraft in the distance. It was probably around 10:00 am when I told Teagan to hold tight for a few more minutes as I walked out to greet the airplane. Before I could tell Teagan’s bear story, my buddy pointed to the south end of the lake and told me he saw a grizzly bear chasing a cow moose and its newborn calf. I told him our story.

Teagan was a chatterbox and could not stop telling tales of the hunt while the airplane was being loaded. We were standing on the lakeshore when we saw something brown running through the grass on the far end of the lake. A cow moose and her calf came clearly into view, and they were sprinting along the lakeshore in our direction. A split-second later, while the two moose were rapidly covering ground, we saw our Grizz in hot pursuit. Closer and closer they all came, directly towards us. They weren’t on top of us by any means but the sense of desperation and sheer terror in the eyes of the moose told the all too vivid, timeless story of predator versus prey. Finally, fifty yards ahead of us, both moose cut into the woods and went out of sight while the Grizz kept coming towards us. Fortunately for everyone, except perhaps the moose, the Grizz veered into the woods, and we never saw him again. We quickly loaded into the floatplane and headed for home. What a night!

The outdoors can be a puzzling place for all of us, but understandably more so for my daughter, Teagan. Teagan has a significant Intellectual Disability and was 13 years old when she shot her first bear in this story. Hunting black bears, specifically over bait provides Teagan increased opportunities for success because of her limited accurate shooting range. Teagan loves to hunt, fish, and trap in our home State of Alaska and she’s one helluva hunter with more grit than a lot of neurotypical adults I know! Teagan and others like her have a story to tell. I suspect there are countless outstanding young people with intellectual disabilities out there who would love the out-of-doors but lack the guidance to get them there. Teagan truly has the biggest heart of any person I know, and for her, it’s not just time with dad; it is genuinely about the outdoor pursuits. She can go from pink & sparkles to camo & rifle in seconds flat. Teagan hunts hard and digs in when it’s time for field dressing, butchering, and cooking. Teagan continues racking up spring black bears, despite our scary night with the Grizz. She is an ambassador to our hunting heritage, and I sure am proud of her accomplishments. Taking a child hunting for their first time can be trying even for the most patient of parent. Now try the whole thing with a child who has an intellectual or physical disability. The challenges go up exponentially, but so do the rewards.