Cousins connect in Canada County sportsmen cross the border for spring bear hunt

If I had been sitting in the rinse bay of a car wash, the water drops could not have fallen any faster or harder. The fact I was perched 14 feet high in a tree stand on the first night of a spring bear hunt in Canada made the heavy rain more frustrating. To cap things off, the jacket of my rain suit was nowhere to be found. Had I not packed a compact, collapsible, camo umbrella that attaches to the tree trunk and is made especially for such occasions, my situation would have been even more unpleasant.

As I hunkered down trying to avoid the steady rivulets of water cascading from the umbrella edges, as well as the drops blown sideways by the gusts of wind, a sardonic grin crossed my face. My cousin and lifelong outdoor companion Steve Hitchcock was enduring the same deluge from his tree stand a couple of miles away. Four years previously Steve and I had enjoyed our very first spring bear outing and our first New Brunswick hunt along the Miramichi River near Doaktown. Since then we had tried unsuccessfully to arrange another May bruin adventure, and during the past three years a lot of things had changed.

One outfitter and a couple of guides had either gone out of business or given up bear hunts as gas and bait prices skyrocketed. Canadian wildlife officials reduced the amount of bear permits in many zones and also limited the number of tags available to guides in most territories. Of the three top-rate guides I contacted in good bear country within two hours of the boundary line, all were booked solid and had a waiting list at least a year or two in advance. On the plus side, cousin Steve moved from southern Maine last year to within 15 minutes of my house, so our outings are much more convenient and more frequent these days.

Boundary-line bear

My answering machine’s red blinking light signaled surprisingly good news one evening about three weeks ago. Brian Bowmaster, of Bowmaster Brothers Guide Service, was calling to tell me that due to a health issue, one of his annual spring bear hunters and his two buddies from Connecticut had to cancel this spring’s trip. Brian wanted to know if I had any interest and, despite the short notice, the time to hunt. Like dangling a carrot in front of a horse, he went on to mention three of his several baits were drawing multiple bear and each had one bragging-size bruin.

It has been many, many years since Maine halted its spring bear hunt, and New England sportsmen must either travel to Quebec or New Brunswick for May and June gunning and bowhunting or wait for the fall season. Most knowledgeable black bear hunters and regional taxidermists will be quick to confirm that for a top-quality rug or wall mount, spring bruin are in prime condition. Their fur is thick, long and luxurious with no rub marks or sparse areas. Many wild-game cooks claim, and I agree, that meat from early-season black bear is tastier and more tender than that from a fall critter.

All things considered it took me about 30 seconds to decide to juggle my schedule and take advantage of this unexpected opportunity, and seconds later I was on the phone to cousin Steve. Brothers Brian and Frank Bowmaster live in Morrell Siding, New Brunswick, a village right along the St. John River and only about 7 miles from Limestone. All of the Bowmaster brothers’ bear stands are within 10 to 15 miles of the border crossing, requiring only a 45-minute drive each way from home for Steve and I. And that brings us up to speed as to why I was sitting 14 feet up in a tree during a steady downpour.

It had been overcast all day, but of course the rain held off until about 4 p.m., about an hour after we arrived at our guide’s home, and Brian had taken care of our licenses and paperwork. The baits he selected for Steve and I had both been cleaned out by bear the day before, so the light sprinkles of rain as we climbed up into our respective stands and settled our gear and guns was overlooked. Two hours later the constant torrent of drops that fell through the forest and among the leaves with a steady audible hiss, and often blew sideways when the wind gusted, was becoming annoying.

I knew within the first half-hour no sane bruin would venture out in this deluge. Only a couple of foolish but game hunters would face these elements. My spirits did pick up a bit about 7 o’clock when a big cow moose wandered up the trail and stopped to feed right below me. She was so close I could have literally done a Hopalong Cassidy hop-down mount-up. Despite the cow’s hide being soaked and slicked down, the rain didn’t seem to faze her, so I stuck it out until dark thinking just maybe there was one hungry bear that wasn’t rain shy. No such luck!

Back again

Work and family commitments kept Steve and I from returning to hunt for another four days, and this time it was Brian’s brother Frank Bowmaster who met us and set us up on the same sites. Each had been hit regularly by one or two bear and paw prints promised a couple of the black ghosts were bragging size. Within seconds of settling into my tree seat, the insects located me – Canadian mosquitoes, black flies and no-see-ums all in search of a foreign taste treat. In this case, U.S.D.A.-approved me.

I had on scentless insect repellent. I also dosed myself with scent cover and, in addition, I was wearing a camo head net, gloves and layered clothing. Somehow they still got me. For 41/2 immobile hours, I literally was ensconced in a cloud of bugs. And while the occasional bites were irritating, the constant humming and buzzing whirr of wings was even more maddening. Several times during the evening I actually found myself missing the continuous cloudburst of the previous outing that kept the bugs at bay. To add to the tedium, once again no bear made an appearance.

One very unique experience did make my time in the tree memorable. Tedium and the sound of buzzing insects had lulled me into a stupor around 6 p.m. when suddenly a blast of breeze and sound whirred past my head, jolting me wide awake. A blur in the corner of my eye and the source of the noise and wind turned out to be a partridge which landed on a limb 3 feet in front of my face. Not 20 seconds later another grouse scaled in over my left shoulder to join the first on a fir branch about 6 feet away.

The second bird commenced budding right away, but that early arrival kept turning, bobbing its head and hopping along the limb trying to figure out what was out of place. Other than my eyes, nothing moved, but after about a minute the wary bird jumped from limb to bough and joined his friend at a safer distance. A few minutes later the brace of birds fluttered to the ground and wandered away pecking for food and gravel.

My only other companion that evening was a raccoon that made several trips to the bait pail. The coon’s acrobatics and antics kept me entertained until it was too dusky to discern my gun sights, at which point I climbed down and headed out of the woods. A bit disappointed at seeing no bear, I still enjoyed the animal encounters. It’s those unforeseen events that make every outdoor venture worthwhile and memorable.

Steve had seen no bear either, and the Bowmaster brothers, who were expecting success the first night out, were in disbelief and a bit baffled by the situation. The fact we had other game animals come close to our stands verified we were well camouflaged and keeping movement to a minimum. It was now the first week in June; leaves were sprouting and cover getting thicker every day making spotting game and shooting tougher. Also, natural food was becoming more prevalent: clover fields were blooming and with every passing day it would be tougher to bring bear to bait sites.

The last chance

Due to previous plans I only had one more night open to hunt, so three days after our second outing Steve arrived at my house by midafternoon. It was my turn to drive, but Steve, ever full of optimism, suggested we could certainly transport two bear back home in his pick-up easier than in my SUV. I liked his attitude but harbored some real doubts about one bear, let alone a double. Nonetheless, I moved my gear to his vehicle and we hit the road on a warm, clear June day.

Our guides had already told us we would be sitting on different stands, but upon arriving Frank advised Steve that a big bear had raised havoc the previous day at his first bait site. He suggested Steve give it another night and Steve agreed. It was a good choice because at 6:30, after being on site less than 90 minutes, Steve used his new Thompson Center Encore single-shot, 12-gauge with a rifled barrel to send a sabot slug into a bear weighing just shy of 300 pounds. A big blocky head, thick shoulders and lush, long hair made Steve’s second Canadian bear a true prize.

Changing stands had not changed my luck, however, and as dusk settled in around 8:30 my spirits were a bit dismal. Then, without a sound, a black head poked from the brush behind the bait bucket. After several cautious starts and stops, the bear was in the open and I slowly and quietly reached for my rifle hanging from a tree limb. Suddenly, the bruin dropped to all fours and took off into the thick brush. Wondering if the bear would return, I laid the Thompson Center .50 caliber single-shot, black-powder rifle across my knees and watched and waited.

Ten minutes later the bear reappeared but went to the opposite side of the bait bucket, presenting no sure shot opportunity. Two more times the bruin came and went. It became gloomier by the minute, but the bear refused to use the open side of the bait site. I had one narrow sight field through the tree trunks and brush for my 100 grains of Hodgdon Triple Seven powder pellets and the T/C 250-grain Shock Wave sabot. At the shot I saw the bear wheel and sprint into the woods through a haze of powder smoke. As the last filament of light filtered through the forest, the lustrous black coat among the green leaves and brush would catch Brian’s eye less than 25 yards from the bait site.

Steve had been right about the pickup, we had our double on black bear and would need the space to haul them both back home. Despite the late date, the wild, wet, windy weather and voracious insects, our spring bear hunt was a success – thanks to master guides Brian and Frank Bowmaster. Any sportsman who has never experienced a spring bear hunt, especially those close to northern Maine, should give Brian a call at 506-273-9046. There’s a great new hunting camp, wonderful home-cooked meals, knowledgeable guides, and best of all, lots of big bears.

Don’t wait too long to book for next spring, however. There are limited spots available, and Steve and I are already making plans.

bgravesoutdoors@ainop.com