This blog is called “The good the bad and the ugly,” and this is one “ugly” story. The above crew is my brother Darryl, Gary Baldwin, My “loaded self,” Herm “never touch the stuff” Fowler, and Jerry Cawood. This was our first year bear hunting out of the Baldwin’s camp in Marquette Michigan. Herm Fowler was my dads boss, at National Life Insurance Co., and is the uncle to Gary’s wife Nancy. Herm is the “link” in the chain that introduced my family to the Baldwins, and over 30 years latter were still friends. Herm is a non-hunter, and actually a non-drinker as well, but under the “wrong” influence who knows what he would do! Thus the stage is set for “Herms wonderful adventure!”
This was the last year that the “old” Baldwin camp was used, as there were plans for a new one to be built. The outhouse was about 20 yards behind the camp, and the garbage pit was behind the outhouse. The kitchen table sat under a back window where you could see the outhouse, dump, and the woods beyond.
We had arrived a few days early so Gary could give us some pointers on bear hunting, and show us where our “baits” were. The Baldwins didn’t have a whole lot of interest in bear hunting, as they all had numerous “kills” under their belts! Back in those days (early 70’s) it wasn’t unusual for bear to wander into camp, and see what kind of trouble they could get into.
The evening of opening day brother Darryl took a nice bear, but nobody else saw anything. The second evening Darryl stayed at camp, with Gary and Herm, as my Dad, Jerry, and myself hit the woods. This is where Herm’s story begins.
Darryl had recently returned from Viet Nam, and didn’t mind “relaxing” with a brewski or shot of Jack Daniels. Gary could hold his own with anyone, but Herm was a basic teatottler. The three of them were sitting around the kitchen table playing “tonk” telling stories (lies) and tipping the bottle. Herm must of succumbed to “when in Rome do what the Romans do” as he was keeping up with the other two! Just about an hour before dark, a huge black bear approaches the back of the outhouse. Non-hunting inebriated Herm starts saying “let me shoot him, let me shoot him!” Gary gets everyone to calm down, and grabs his 06 that he keeps in camp. I had also left my old bolt action 06 in camp, as I dropped it and wasn’t sure about the sights being ok. Gary tells Herm to shoot through the screen once the bear reaches the garbage pit. Gary then grabs my rifle, loads it, and sneaks out the front door. Darryl is trying to coach Herm, as he hasn’t a clue how shoot Gary’s rifle.
Meanwhile Gary is at the same corner of the cabin that Herm is at, only on the outside. Gary doesn’t know my sights have been bent, and Herm doesn’t know Gary is just a few feet away, ready to make a shot. As Herm tries to steady his aim, Gary blast away! Herm starts yelling “did I get him?” “Did I get him?” as the startled bear heads for safety! Darryl doesn’t even know Herm didn’t pull the trigger, and Gary can’t believe he missed a 400 pound black bear at 40 yards! When Gary finally gets back inside the cabin, and they sort out what just happened, they had quite a laugh. From then on every time we saw Herm we’d ask “Did ya get em Herm?”
Now like I said at the beginning this is one ugly story, and certainly not the proper way to hunt bear. Sometimes camp legends are made from circumstances that “well” just happen. Herm (bless his heart) is no longer with us, but you can bet, the next time we are in bear camp, his story will be told, and we’ll all get another good laugh from “Herms wonderful adventure!”
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Back in 1979 (In a galaxy far far away) my brother Brad, his wife Jennie, my wife Lorna and myself found ourselves on a bear hunt. Over the years I had taken several bear from the Baldwin camp, but my younger brother Brad could never seem to “get his act together!” Our goal, on this hunt, was to get Brad a bear.
Seeing how we are on the subject of bear hunting I’ll keep the stories rolling for awhile. There are six Ansel “boys” and the fine looking lad holding the bears head is my youngest brother Dean. It’s hard to call him “little brother,” as he’s 5′ 11” and weighs about 225. Three of my brothers are police officers, and Dean-o is one of them.
Seeing how we are on the topic of “big bears” I must give my little brother his due! This is a picture of his huge “stick bow” harvested Upper Peninsula black bear. Even though mine weighed a few more pounds, Darryl’s had a head like a bushel basket. You can see by the picture, there is nothing exaggerated by a “phony” photo. This bear weighed about 450 pounds (live) and had 20-1/2 inch skull. The gene pool that this bruiser was from, must be awesome, as he was only 5-1/2 years old. Mine was 13-1/2 years old, and generally speaking the older the bear, the bigger the head.
Alright back to the story. Deerton was the first place I stopped to check for bear activity, and from my talks with Albert Beauchamps I knew this bait was “hot!” Albert was cutting wood when I pulled into his “camp” driveway. I was really excited about him filling me in on the bear sign around the bait pile. He told me to look at the bear tracks, made in some of the mud holes, and then warned me not to step in any piles of bear “scat!” Man did that sound so gooood! The first mud hole I came to had several different size tracks impressed into the soft, black, swamp mud. There was one track that was about 5-1/2 inches across the front pad, and I thought that was a nice bear. I wondered if that was the “big boy” doing all the damage around Albert’s camp? I soon found the answer to that question! In the next mud hole, that was closer to the bait station, I found the imprint of a front pad, that took my breath away! In 15 years of hunting I had never seen a track the size of this one. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, as I scanned the swamp for the owner of this gigantic footprint. I wanted to be quiet, but at the same time I wanted to “scream” and let Bearzilla know I was there! I took out my little tape measure and put it across the imprint - wow! A whopping 7 inches!
The Ansel family started bear hunting around Marquette Michigan back in 1973. We were invited to spend a week hunting the Dick Baldwin property by Dicks son Gary. We met Gary through Herm Fowler, who happened to be my dad’s boss. Herm knew my dad Norm loved to hunt, so when Gary passed through Monroe heading to the U.P. Herm introduced him to my dad. As they say”the rest is history!” Over the last 35 years we’ve become good friends with the whole Baldwin clan. How blessed we have been to share their camp, and actually become part of the folk lure and hunting mystic of the fall bear season!