The Ten Square Sitka Spruce Surprise Bear: Bear Attacks

I was hunting moose near Anchorage Alaska in the Nalchina Public Use Area, a huge tract of land dedicated to people to enjoy the woods. In Alaska, hunters are allowed to hunt moose for subsistence, that is, for food. The requirements to harvest are that the moose must be a bull of a specific size or larger. I had been hunting in my secret spot for about 8 years and it had been a reliable place to find bull moose that met the subsistence hunting minimum size requirements for each of the last 8 years. This is no small feat in moose hunting and this place is what hunters call a “honey hole”. That means that is a sweet spot to harvest the target animals.

In the fall of 2011 I was doing my normal yearly preparation before heading to my honey hole by float plane. I took careful inventory of my necessities and tracked their weight as I would only have 180 pounds of cargo load to carry on my Dehaviland Beaver before passing the weight limit. I grabbed the usual equipment, my tent, sleeping bag, guns, ammo and distinctly recall carefully examining my moose call and being excited about how much meat it had helped me put in the freezer.

The next morning I arrived at the small private airport and eagerly walked toward my small plane in the dark. My gear was already loaded the prior day and all I had to do was buckle up and prepare for take off. I cracked the engine after completing my pre-flight review and then taxied down the short runway. As I gained speed and approached the end of the runway, my Dehaviland Beaver lifted off gracefully and away I went.

I flew for a little over under an hour and saw the Talkeetna River come into view. In stretches of the river it is a steep canyon which can make for very frightening and riveting wind patterns at times. I followed the river to the point at which it turns west and I went east, gently landing at remote Stephan Lake. The lake is surrounded by a mix of tundra, bush and small patches of Sitka Spruce. Now Sitka Spruce are a particular species of Spruce tree which are adapted to the arctic and subarctic climate and grow in muskeg areas and don’t usually pass about 5 to 7 feet in height. This area offered tremendous views to observe for my moose. As I unpacked my float plane and tethered it to the shore, I paused to take in the cool October air and the freedom and loneliness that Stephan Lake always gave me. It centered me in many ways, and helped me keep perspective on life when I visited it.

I set up my tent and laid out my bed and sleeping bag and prepared my dinner. After eating dinner and briefly reading my Bible I decided to get to bed. I was too excited to go to sleep right away and tentatively planned out my hunt the next day. Uneventfully, consciousness faded and I fell asleep.

My alarm startled me awake at 7:30 AM. It was cold outside of my sleeping bag and I hurriedly got dressed and put on my stalking cap. I warmed up some oatmeal and sipped my coffee quickly so I could get on the trail as quickly as possible, then I remembered, it wouldn’t even get light for another hour. I decided to take advantage of having the time to start hiking toward a meadow that had often had bull moose and many other game animals there in the past. Utilizing my headlamp to light my way, I stumbled and huffed my way along the trail for about an hour and arrived just as the sun peeked over the horizon and light revealed the features of the area. I positioned myself on the high end of the slope so I could see the entire area and relaxed behind my spotting scope. Every hour or so I would let out a long, low pitched moan mimicking a cow moose in heat and looking for a mate. Alternately I would let out a low grunt like “GWA” to mimic a love sick bull moose in pursuit of a cow. As the day passed, I saw a handful of smaller animals but none of the usual caribou, nor any moose. It was perplexing as in the past I had seen at least ten caribou on any given day and an assortment of sheep or goats as well as moose. But, not this day.

The next day I hiked to a different site and essentially repeated the same pattern, and this went on for the three days. Nothing! I couldn’t believe it!

On the 6th and final day of my moose hunt I decided to go down closer to the river. It was a longer hike but due to the absence of any game near my cabin, and going home with no meat was not an option, I decided it was worth it. Again, I sought and found a promising stand of willows and alders and began calling. I would wait a few hours in one spot and then move about a mile and repeat the process. Nothing.

Finally, I found a flatter area and positioned myself comfortably. I let out several cow calls and a few bull calls, then I heard it! Not too far away either! “Finally”, I said to myself. I gathered my things and slowly stalked toward the grunt that answered my grunt. I would grunt and the other bull would grunt in reply. About every 5 minutes we would exchange grunts as if we were getting a good idea of