“Last week a big boar chased a bowhunter out of the same woods we’ll be hunting. According to the hunter, the bear spotted him well over 100 yards away and immediately started towards him. The hunter began backing up, but the bear kept coming, walking faster, then ran directly towards him. The guy turned and ran for his life and reached his pick-up only a few steps ahead of the bear,” said Dick Ray as we drove to where we would be camped while I hunted black bear with him and his brother, Sam on Arizona’s White Mountain Apache Reservation. Dick continued, “I know you’re looking for a big color phase bear, and we told you about a big blond we’ve seen numerous times lately, but if you see the aggressive bear while we’re hunting, I got a feeling you’re going to shoot him. He’s huge and he might not give you another choice.”

I really wanted a big chocolate, cinnamon or anything lighter than jet black bear. Over the years, I’ve been fortunate to take some really nice, big black bears, but my big bears had all been as black as the ace of spades. I had taken a couple of color-phase bears in the past, but they were not what I would consider big.

After stowing our gear, Sam suggested since it was too late to release their hounds, we should go sit where we could watch converging trails which headed to a waterhole — not far from where the bowhunter had been chased out of the woods, the week previous.

Thirty minutes later, Sam and I pushed our way into several low growing oaks that would hide us. At the time I was hunting with a 50 caliber muzzleloader, stoked with 100 grains of Pyrodex below a 250 gr Hornady XTP sabot bullet. I had brought two muzzleloaders which I’d loaded before we left camp, then capped when we got set up in our ground blind. One rested on shooting sticks and the other I laid immediately to my right, within reaching distance for a quick follow up shot, in case one was needed.

A light wind blew from the waterhole into our faces. We had been on stand less than 30 minutes when I heard something coming up from behind us, directly downwind. I slowly turned to look at the source of the noise. Through oak leaves and limbs, I could see a big black hulk. As it got closer I could see the bear’s ears seemingly hanging on the side of his massive head. He was huge in every way. There was a shooting lane to my immediate right. I moved the shooting sticks and muzzleloader so I could shoot left-handed.

In spite of the wind blowing toward the bear, he paid no attention to our scent. The bear stepped into the shooting lane to my right facing us, less than 12 yards away. He popped his teeth, laid back his ears and charged. Thankfully I had cocked the muzzleloader’s hammer as soon as I spotted the bear.

The bear was close and coming fast, I sighted down the side of the barrel rather than looking through my scope. By the time I could pull the trigger, he was less than 15 feet away and coming fast. The Hornady XTP bullet hit the bear, he stopped but turned and then ran away.

I reached for the second muzzleloader and as I turned, there lay less than six inches away was the muzzle of Sam’s 44 Mag Ruger Blackhawk revolver. He smiled and said, “That so and so wasn’t coming any closer.”

I reloaded the muzzleloader, then we started after the bear, who left a broad blood trail. We found him dead, within 70 yards. Up close he was even bigger than I had imagined. On official scales he weighed 563 lbs and squared seven feet, eight inches without any stretching. Around the bullet hole in his chest there was a burned hair spot about three inches wide — he really had been close!

The Hornady XTP, we learned when field dressing had taken out the top of his heart — perfect bullet performance. There was no doubt that the bear I had just taken had every intention of completing the charge. He knew we were there and he was obviously not afraid of humans, based on the experience he had with the bowhunter. He thought he was ‘King of the Mountain’, but obviously was wrong.

Part II

“He’s not stopping, SHOOT!” Less than a heart beat later a rifle fired and the charging black bear died mid-stride. Momentum carried him to less than three feet from where we stood. After making certain the bear was dead, I looked over at my companion, somewhat ashen in color and trembling a bit. I extended a congratulatory hand, “Great shot!”

“There wasn’t any time to hardly aim” says he. I smiled.

What lead up to our adventure had started at the time the outfitter begun baiting for the upcoming bear season. My two companions and I had arrived in bear camp earlier in the week, when our outfitter pulled me aside. “There’s a bait we have set up which has been taken over by a very aggressive boar, and he’s getting more bravo every time we freshen the bait. Yesterday he charged at me before I got to the barrel, so I had to throw my bait sack at him. Thankfully he stopped and started eating the beaver tail I had in the bag rather than complete the charge, but it’s just a matter of time before he keeps coming.” He continued, “We’ll give him three days, then go back with a hunter.” Before I could volunteer my services, he added, “I’ve got a couple of places where I’ve seen big boars which I think will square over seven feet. We want you to hunt one of those.”

That settled that. I suggested he consider the guy who had come with me from Texas as a likely candidate. Two days later I shot one of the black boars the outfitter had told me about when we arrived. I shot him with my 300 Win Mag Ruger Number 1. The seven-feet, two-inch squared boar’s skull, green scored 21-inches (he dried to 20 12/16ths, just missing the all-time Boone and Crockett Record Book where the minimum is 21 inches.)

My bear had died essentially in his tracks. The 300 Win Mag Hornady 180 gr soft point had once again done its job.

“Chad has seen some bears but mostly sows and a couple of small boars. Do you think he’d be interested in tackling the aggressive boar I told you about?” Asked the outfitter. Chad was the hunter I suggested to take on the aggressive boar, should he not score early in the hunt.

“I’ll back him up, in case he needs help.” Said I. We approached Chad over lunch and he was indeed game.

A couple of hours later we beached the outfitter’s boat. Chad made certain his Ruger M77, 300 Win Mag was loaded. Then we cautiously approached the bait site. When we got to within 50 yards of the bait, we could see a black form striding back and forth behind the barrel. We took four steps toward the bait. Then, here he came at a run. It always amazes me how fast a charging black bear comes, literally like black lightning. As soon as I saw the bear charging I took a step backwards allowing Chad to swing his rifle into action. I heard our guide shout “Shoot!”

He did and Chad dropped the fast charging bear with a great shot.

That night, long after the coyotes finished their midnight serenade, Chad was retelling his bear tale for the 40th time.

A few years later, hunting black bear with Buck Bowden’s Hidden Alaska Guides south-east of Anchorage, my cameraman and I were spike-camped about 15 miles from Buck’s Mosquito Lake base. The first night we were visited by a three-year old boar. He walked around our tent all night long, occasionally “woofing” to express his displeasure of us invading his domain. Thankfully he was gone the next morning when we crawled out of our tent to begin our hunt. But that night he was back, this time brushing against our tent.

During the night he began pushing his nose against the tent wall — he was going too far. I told my tent mate to grab my Ruger Blackhawk 44 magnum, loaded with Hornady’s 240 gr XTPs. I also grabbed my Ruger Model 77 which I had brought to hunt, chambered in 7x57.

When the bear again stuck his nose into the tent wall, I reared back with both legs, as I lay on my back for extra leverage, and hit the bear on the nose as as hard as I could with both feet. I heard the bear tumble back, growl and take off at a run. I laid back down on my cot, thinking I had remedied the situation and the bear would not be back but I was wrong.

A couple of minutes later I heard the bear again walking around our tent, “woofing” and popping his jaws. He continued doing so for a solid hour before I heard him drift away and I could sleep.

The next morning, before opening the tent I told the cameraman to be ready in case the bear charged for us when I opened the tent flap. No sooner had I opened the tent’s front flap when I spotted him. He was about 75 yards away and as soon as he saw me, he charged at a run. I picked a spot about 20 steps away, if he did not stop by the time he reached that spot I would have to shoot to kill him. He came hard but at about 25 steps he slowed and stopped, then started walking back and forth popping his jaws and “woofing”. I waited with my Ruger nestled in my shoulder. After about five minutes the bear retreated and disappeared into a thicket. I breathed a sigh of relief. I really did not want to kill the bear which I guessed to be three to four years old, but I was wondering if I would be given much of a choice if he came back again.

As I prepared breakfast the bear reappeared. As soon as he did I picked up my rifle. The boar raised his head looked my direction and charged directly towards me. As he got to within 30 yards I shot immediately in front of him, throwing dirt in his face. I did not wait for him to come any closer. If he indeed intended to complete the charge, I wanted time to reload and to have time for second shot; this time to put him down. Thankfully he stopped about 20 yards out, turned and then ran away. I thought we were finally rid of him but again I was wrong.

He returned a few minutes later, this time walking around camp about 100 yards out. I knew if we stayed in the area, it was only a matter of time before I would have to shoot the bear or he was going to hurt either my cameraman or me.

I hated to leave the area because I knew there were huge black bears around, based on paw prints. I had one bear tag and I really wanted to use it on a big bear, rather than on a cantankerous younger and smaller one. Reluctantly I used the satellite phone I had with me to call Buck for him to come get us and move us to another area.

While we waited on Buck to arrive, the bear kept circling our tent. As he did I recalled what Buck had told me about bear attacks. “If you are attacked and mauled by a grizzly, play dead and he’ll leave you alone. Get attacked by a black bear, keep fighting because if you play dead, he’s going to eat you!”

Thankfully Buck got us out of the area before I had to shoot the aggressive young boar. I have long wandered what became of that aggressive young boar.

Photo credit: Larry Weishuhn Outdoors