Unexpected Blessing

Trent and I went up Mount Ida on Tuesday looking for possible locations for a group camp site. We want to have an out of doors alternative location for a children's ministry. I used Google-Earth to search the mountain before we went out. I book marked three possible locations to explore.
At the end of a narrow, overgrown and four wheel drive access forestry service road, we found ourselves still two hundred yards from a possible camp site. The area had been logged some 20 years before. A forest had grown up again, and it obscured our view for anything more than 75 yards. So, we decided to hike it back into the forest and see if the area had water.
We had gone about 200 yards and found a low area and ravine that looked promising, so we went further. We ducked under fallen trees and climbed over others as we followed a well used game trail. Suddenly, Trent stopped and pointed to a pile of bear scat on the trail. "Is that what I think it is?" he said.
"Yep, it is bear scat and from a large bear, too," I answered.
A hundred yards further, Trent stopped and seemed to be searching the area before him, down in a low area. He pointed in a direction and said, "Is that a bear?"
Trent never hunted big game and that included bears; yet, he had been able to see the rump, back , and shoulder of a chocolate brown colored bear about 100 yards ahead, down in the trees. The bear had picked a nice "home" area. There was shade from the older growth trees, and small pools of water for drink.
The wind was in our favor, but I was concerned about our situation. "Why did I leave my rifle in the truck?" I asked myself.
"Let's get out of here while we can," I said softly, and we walked quickly down the game trail back towards the truck.
Back at the truck, I asked Trent if he wanted to continue on the search for camping sites, or would he like to go back into the woods to see if we could find that bear again. He said he had room in the freezer at home and thought a hunt might be worth a try.

This time, with rifle in hand, I took the lead and followed the game trail back to the area we saw the bear. In the last 100 yards, I slid the safety "off" the Ruger No.1, .458 Win Mag, single shot rifle. I inched forward, low to the trail, and slowly raised my head to look and then back down to creep forward again.
Just like before, I picked out the bear. He had moved into the shade, was on all fours, looking intently in my direction. It was evident that he had heard something of our approach. I checked the scope and made sure it was set at 2 power. I wanted a wide field of view in case things got busy real fast.

I moved slowly to the side, trying to find a view where the trees didn't obscure the bear. After moving five more yards, the bear got up, and began to move in my direction. He didn't act aggravated, he just slowly walked forward to a tree, and stood up on his hind legs. He reached up the tree with his claws. He was doing a territorial marking display. I thought to myself, "He must think I am another bear, snooping around his area."

The cross hairs of the scope were now resting solidly on the bear as he came off the tree and began to walk forward again. The mountain echoed with the resounding "BOOM" of the big gun. The bear never knew what hit him.

Back packing the meat out was a time for reflection. I was carrying 80 pounds of meat on my back, up hill. "Well," I told myself, "if my heart doesn't give out on this trip, I guess I am good for another year." The last fifty yards were up a rather steep grade. Trent put down his meat and pushed me from behind to help get up the hill. We made it back to the truck, with an unexpected blessing. God had given us some excellent meat, and we were grateful for it.