Black Bear

I hate the cold. So you know that, when I am bundling up to go out in seven-degree temperatures to sit in the woods, there is a very good reason. On this particular Saturday, I was going on my first bear hunt.

We arrived at the woods' edge well before dawn and started getting our gear out of the truck. The trees sparkled like I had never seen before. It looked like someone had sprinkled glitter all over everything. The frost captured the beams from our flashlights and twinkled like tiny galaxies full of stars. The only word qualified to describe it - no matter who you are - was magical. My husband got some teasing from that by the guys at work but they weren't there to see it. They didn't understand. It was, without question, magical.

We followed the flashlight beams to the tree stand where I was to sit. I was putting on a brave face, determined not to let my fear of heights cost me a bear, but I was keeping quiet about it. Phil helped me situate myself up there, tying my rifle to the rope and waiting patiently for me to say I was good to go.

And there I sat. Board-straight against a tree. Rifle in a tight grip across my lap. Every muscle tightened and eyes wide with panic.

I listened to his footsteps as he moved further away to find his own place to sit. I didn't turn my head. I didn't move. At. All.

What was I thinking???

I could hear Phil moving around in the area he had selected. He seemed uncertain. Maybe I could catch him before he got settled and get him to come back. With great, exaggerated caution, I sent him a text: "trade places with me please!" Even as I awaited his response, I wondered how I would get myself back down even if he helped. I was truly paralyzed with fear. It's a real thing.

The reply came. "Too late."

It didn't take long for me to decide this wasn't going to work out. Very slowly and with tiny movements, I pulled the rope back up to me. I very carefully tied my rifle to it and, holding my breath, lowered it ever-so-slowly to the ground.

Deep breath.

I took the poncho liner off my lap (I had thought the cover would somehow make me feel more secure - silly me). I let it fall to the ground below.

I unlatched and opened the rail (which also didn't provide the feeling of security I had hoped).

Deep breath.

Very carefully, I stood, gripping the side rails with shaking hands, and turned to face the seat.

Deep breath.

Once both feet were on the ladder, I was done going slowly. I got to the ground quickly, still shaking, and gathered my gear.

Within minutes I was seated on the ground next to a tree a few yards away, covered in my poncho liner for warmth, still trying to catch my breath, watching the fairy dust turn back to ice in the dawning sunlight.

Thoughts of bears approaching from behind kept me alert and nervous, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of clinging to a tree in the canopy above.

Then came the shot. I heard it coming from Phil's direction and fumbled with my phone, ready to receive his victory text. Then I put the phone down and grabbed my rifle in case the shot chased a bear in my direction. After what seemed like ages, the confirmation came in the form of three simple words. "I got one."

Even though it wasn't my kill, it was my most exciting day of hunting to date. I hope to get one of my own next year!