Bear Attacks of the Century by Larry Mueller & Marguerite Reiss

Author:Larry Mueller & Marguerite Reiss
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781599216386
Publisher: Lyons Press
Published: 2014-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

SLAMMED INTO SUFFOCATION

When you suddenly find yourself stuck between a grizzly and its lunch, it takes supreme audacity to fight back with a battered up little .30/30. And a little luck can't hurt, either.

Roger Stewart's bear first-geared into view, stopped, lowered its head like a bulldozer dropping the blade to wipe out anything in its path, laid its ears back, bristled its neck hair, and lunged.

Roger, who then owned Stewart Archery and Sporting Goods Store in Eagle River, Alaska, was hunting Stone's sheep in British Columbia. He had already taken Dalls and Rocky Mountain bighorns, and the Stone's would be the third animal in his quest for a grand slam with the bow. He had signed on for a two-week hunt with outfitter Coin Collison and Charlie Boya, a Seceney Indian guide.

On the tenth day of the hunt, Roger and Charlie were glassing sheep from about a thousand feet above tree line. Several days before, a local resident had shot one, the offal of which was in rocks about twenty yards above where Roger now sat. He'd discovered the animal remains three days earlier. This day, Charlie climbed up for a fresh look. He called back that something was now “on it.”

“What? Birds?”

“Think eagles. Broken rib bones.”

It seemed plausible to Roger that eagles could break rib bones. He continued to glass the valley. Charlie then returned, dropped his large canvas pack, laid his old .30/30 rifle on the ground, and decided to walk down the slope to glass from a different vantage point. He'd said he'd call if he saw sheep.

Roger watched as Charlie had walked over a hump, disappeared for a short time in a broad natural trench behind the hump, then come back into view and continued on to a rock outcropping fifty yards away. Seated on the ground, both elbows on his knees, Roger slowly scanned the terrain below with his binoculars. Nothing. He glanced down at Charlie's rifle. A piece of masking tape covered the bore. The tape would keep dirt out of the barrel, but because tape wasn't inside the bore, a bullet would be able to safely pass through. An old sling was wired to the forearm and taped to the shoulder stock. There were no sights, front or back. Charlie had knocked them off because they'd hung up in the scabbard on his horse. It was only a protection firearm, and he was confident that he could sight down the barrel at close range.

Roger returned to glassing. Still nothing. He glanced back down the slope. Charlie was waving frantically.

“He's seen sheep!” Roger thought. He jumped up, put on the pack, and grabbed the rifle with his left hand, the bow with his right.

Ready to go, he glanced back at Charlie again, but now the guide was waving his arms in a pushing motion. “Does he mean don't move?” he wondered, “or has a sheep sneaked up behind me?” He looked back. No sheep. But when he looked forward again, there, just above the

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