by Roger Ager
Hi all, here is page one of my hunting trip to Montague Island this November. I'll be sending one email for each day over the course of a week. Roger
The pilot put the 206 down on the beach at low tide, but it was rising so my partner, Tim Von Haden, and I unloaded gear quickly. The pilot helped also. We were on Alaska's Montague Island to hunt deer for a week. We were on the southwestern, weather beaten side facing the open Pacific Ocean which is the largest single entity on Earth besides the sky above. Nothing between us and Antarctica, but a lot of water and a few tiny islands. The island is long and skinny with a spine of mountains running its length. It forms the outer break wall of western Prince William Sound. The temperature was about 20 degrees warmer than the Kenai Peninsula where we live. The Japanese current circles up from Asia bringing warm water which warms the air. Keep in mind that warm by Alaska standards is not necessarily considered warm elsewhere. The island sprouts some giant Sitka spruce in its valleys. Smaller hemlock dot the hills and meadows between. Large land animals present were Sitka blacktail deer which we were here to hunt, and brown or grizzly bear. It's a nasty wild place but despite this, I felt at home.
We pitched camp on a logging road that cut inland with big timber on both sides so we would not catch the full brunt of the wind. Two small tents and a 10 x 12 tarp for cooking dinner.
The next day we scouted for deer inland 1.5 miles from camp. Tim and I split up hunting on the way back so as to cover more ground. One hour later I called in a forkhorn. I raised the 243 and a shot rang out to the east. I squeezed the trigger and had my first buck. The other shot was Tim. I found out later he had his 2 seconds before me. We went to our tents that night confident of finding more bucks.
The next day was overcast with misting rain; a typical day for the island. I got a nice buck on a high hill one mile to the east. It had a 17-inch spread. Tim hunted on his own, but struck out.
The reason for this trip like I said was deer hunting. I'm not going into details on each and every kill though some of you may want me to. However, you will see that on the 4th day, the real reason for this story will rear its ugly head.
The landlord of the island is the grizzly bear. The tax collector is the raven. Others like the eagle, crow, and jay also get their cut. I had never seen a grizzly on this island until today. It was 11 a.m., clear sky; it was a beautiful day. Tim and I hunted a hill together then went our separate ways. I came up over a hill in an open area and came face to face with the landlord. He was sitting and looking straight at me like he had been waiting for me all along. I was thrilled, but scared too. He was smoky brown, body fur for blowing in the wind, darker, almost black from the knees down. I took off my pack frame and dug out the camera. If I couldn't shoot and skin him at least I would get pictures. I snapped one then another then he began walking sideways and I took more. Then he turned and started coming slow and deliberate right at me. I thought "Wait a minute, this is not right." When you see a bear, its usually his hind end going away. The wrong end was pointed at me and it was getting closer. I put my arms up, growled, hollered "I'll kill you, make a rug out of you." He still came. I looked for a tree. Ten feet behind was a hemlock maybe 20 feet tall. I went to the top where the branches got small. This tree would have been hard to climb under normal circumstances, but I recall no difficulty. The Griz stalked up to the base of the tree. Looking up at me, his small beady eyes seemed to burn with orange flames behind them. My rifle was slung on my back. My pack on the ground caught his attention and he first picked up my camera in his mouth, then dropped it without damage. The joke came to mind later. How do you tell grizzly shit from black bear shit? Punch line: grizzly shit has camera parts in it. He stepped on my pack frame and I heard the sounds of bending and popping aluminum. Then he began tearing up my day pack which was strapped to it. Apparently this fellow didn't model for free. If he ruins my pack frame, it would be difficult to get deer back to camp so I decided to shoot and scare him away. I put the cross hairs of the .243 one inch from his nose and shot into the ground. He stepped back blinking and looking up at me. He then lunged for the pack, turned around with it and ran 50 or so yards and continued ripping it apart. He located the bag of dried apples and peanuts and walked off, heading for the mountains to the north. I stayed up in the tree for awhile until I saw him a quarter mile away. I scrambled down and gathered up my stuff which lay in a line to the chewed back pack, camera, compass, sharpening stone, etc. I grabbed the back pack and headed in the other direction. I repaired things as best I could with some poly cord I had then went looking for a deer; watching my back trail for bear also. Later that afternoon I got a nice buck with a 19 1/2 inch spread. Got back to camp one hour after dark. It was a big deer. Tim had gotten a nice doe. Tim appeared to be a good hunter and could take care of himself. It was a good day.
Waking up the next day to the sound of surf and gulls, it was overcast but not raining. One half hour into hunting, it started to rain then the wind blew and it rained sideways. I was soaked in no time. My poncho was ripped and water ran down my back. The deer were laying low so I hunted back to camp. I had the shakes so I stripped down and crawled in the sack. My small tent shook like some giant beast was slapping it around. The tarp blew off and the seams began leaking. Tim returned also wet and cold. We spent 14 hours laying inside. The wind abruptly quit just before dark. About 7:30 p.m., I was sleeping and awoke to the sound of Tim hollering my name. He shouted "Roger, I think we have a bear outside." Tim was outside with a .44 mag. and a flashlight. He says, "I see his eyes. Should I shoot?" I said, "Yes, but just scare it; don't hit it." A shot goes off and Time says, "He didn't move." I got partly dressed in wet clothes and got outside. The spooky looking orange glowing eyes were behind two big trees under the meat pole. Tim's more powerful flashlight showed an enormous head. He was a big animal. I threw fist sized rocks. The eyes turned off and came on farther back in the trees. Throwing more rocks until the eyes disappeared for good. Examination of our meat pole showed he stood and clawed open a low hanging game bag; deer quarters plopped to the ground, stripped leg bones lay underneath. The bottom of the game bag was approximately 10 feet from the ground. He had a taste and we could bet our wet shorts he would be back. Later I awoke to the sound of breaking branches. The bear was back and trying to climb a tree to get more deer. Out of the tent again to throw more rocks and drove it away. Woke up again; Tim said "He's on the rocks next to the tents." I decided to go out without getting dressed but hesitated sticking my head out the tent. I told myself, "It's only a 700 lb. raccoon, now get out there and defend your property." I put my hat on the gun barrel and stuck that out first, then my head and flashlight, and there were the eyes. Rifle in my left hand, flashlight in my mouth, I grubbed around for rocks. I threw one hard at the eyes; a thud and a grunt, and the eyes reared up in the air and disappeared. Back in the tent falling asleep again for the umpteenth time, I was thinking, "Here it is the 21st century, the age of space travel, computer and the internet and we were naked and throwing rocks at a giant carnivorous animal, trying to protect our food supply. I also thought of our prehistoric ancestors who no doubt were confronted with the same problem without the added comfort of firearms.
My arm was sore from throwing rocks. Due to certain events the 5th and 6th day were like one very long day. Daylight showed a large track below the meat pole. That and the fact he reached 10 feet for the game bag told us he was very large. The bear that treed me 2 days before was male, about 6 1/2 feet. The camp robber was twice his size.
We hunted together and Tim took a good buck that came to a call. Two of us cutting up a deer was better because one guy could stand guard. One person bent over was in danger of getting jumped by a bear. Ravens usually came first and made a racket which in turn might bring a bear. We skinned and quartered our deer where they fell because of the long distance to camp. We took everything but the vertebrae, rib cage, guts and hide. Most livers and hearts went back with us. Scavengers clean up the leftovers within 24 hours. Nothing goes to waste. We split the deer, each carried half and made it back to camp early. We decided to put the deer out by the ocean and cover it up with a tarp and driftwood. This would save them from our nightly visitor for awhile longer.
The next morning another 1/2 deer that was still in the tree was gone, also, Tim's rifle under the cook tarp was knocked over and his backpack was gone. We combed the rain forest near camp and the hillsides above for a long time with no luck. We found only rooted up ground and deer legs stripped of meat where our burglar carried them to feed free from flying rocks. The pack was located by Tim in a different direction toward the ocean. It was torn but expensive items like GPS, camera, knife, etc. were still inside.
We hunted together and each got a buck. Tim took his best one. It came to a call across a clearing. We took them right out to the ocean by the others from the day before.
The bear was becoming more bold as time went on. The landlord had gotten his fair share of rent. To prevent him from overcharging, we decided to move the rest of the deer to the cache by the ocean. Bad weather fronts have stranded people on this island for up to 10 days. If the bear eats everything and destroys our shelter, this could get serious. We discussed killing the bear. We decided not to hunt him just yet, but set a trap instead. I put my pump .22 between two logs on top of the meat cache. Through the trigger guard I placed a stout 18" stick and lashed the stick to the logs. The muzzle was 30 inches off the ground. On the end of the barrel, we tied a piece of deer meat very tight so he would have to put the muzzle in his mouth and pull hard to strip it off. I'm 90% sure this would have killed him dead on the spot because of the trajectory and bone structure of a bear skull, or left one hell of a bad taste in his mouth.
The next morning to my relief, there was no dead bear and the meat cache was untampered with. The pilot came about noon on a shringking beach. He said a huge weather front was due within 24 hours. We had 6 1/2 of eight deer left. We asked the pilot, "Who won the election...the nerd or the dummy?" He said, "Nobody so far." We discussed going renegade and staying on the island if the nerd won. We could start our own country of Montegue. Our economy would cater to a special breed of tourist; ones who worship gray skies, wind, rain, and snow, bear maulings optional. Of course, who would be president? With Tim and I each voting for ourselves, we'd be in the same situation as the United States. Well, I guess I'd just have to shoot him. Enough political b.s. We've all had enough of that lately.
I liked the island because its one of the rare places left on earth where the beasts rule. A human being can join in and be one too, but also escape when it becomes to uncomfortable. That's it. Alaska Deer Hunting November, 2000