Bear meat— the feast of our Colonial forbears (bad pun), rich in protein and fats, like the bison. What a great read.
It’s terrifyingly dark at night there... It’s not exactly the Alaskan wild, but it’s the closest we can get in the upper midwest.
outdoor ping
The need to do so being replaced by the 416 Ruger that can be used in a standard sized action with better ballistics and being standard factory cartridge.
Does “Christian pulp savage” translate to Tonto or a Doc Savage type?
Still very much enjoyed the story. Interestingly, I just received this month’s Scientific American with a cover article of “Early Humans—Not Climate Change—Decimated Africa’s Large Carnivores”! The definition of a peak carnivore is a variable. Humans will be if they want to be, otherwise they are quite vulnerable. A wolverine can claim a kill because it will make it too difficult for a more powerful carnivore to take it! Still, as a rule bears dominate by size and strength.
As a geographer, I am still bemused by the “Northwest Angle” just to the west of this BWCA. The furthest north piece of the lower 48, it is only directly accessible by boat through the Lake of the Woods. A result of a bad map that was used to settle the northern borders at the Treaty of Paris in 1783, Ben Franklin & his British counterpart are either to credit or blame as the observer wishes!
Just go canoeing with kanawa, and you don’t need a .416
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-news/1670661/posts
some city chicks were camping, one was attacked, hunters came in and killed the bear.........End of story
Brings back great memories of two weeks in Quetico/BWCA with my Lab while in college. Must have been in ‘72. Spent Lord knows how many hours driving up from Chapel Hill, finally finagling a canoe for the small amount of money I had allotted.
Paddled from dawn to dusk and ate pike, walleye and freeze dried. Remember having to remove numerous leeches after bathing in the lakes.
Had heard the berry season had been meager and was warned to look out for hungry bears. Sure enough, one night two bears came into camp and tried to intimidate us into sharing supper. I’m still bragging on my yellow Lab, Mr. Ruffin, for his courage that night, bless his soul. A braver, smarter and more loyal dog, and I’ve had many, there never was in our family.
So there I was, with just a Buck knife and a pile of rocks, and there he was, dashing first this way and later the other way to charge the bruins as they keep circling, trying different angles of approach. It was a very long night.
After the sleepless night, we were hailed the next morning by two men from their canoe. They had been camping on an island not too far away and had heard our racket all night long. They invited us to camp with them that evening, and we obviously accepted their invitation with relief at the prospect of protection in larger numbers.
Within an hour of pulling up to their camp site, Mr. Ruffin had found their cache of ground beef they had buried well behind their camp site and had proceeded to wolf down every bit. All I could say was that I was sorry but that he obviously thought he had earned it. I’m sure it beat the Kennel Ration I had brought along.
Good job. Thanks.
My only restless night ever was in a very remote section when there was a pack of wolves across a narrow lake from us. Not only could you hear them howling, but because sound travels over water so well you could hear them snarling and nipping at each other.
A Smith and Wesson article joined me in a my backpack after that.
I spent a year in the Boundary Waters one week in ‘93. 6 adults and 14 Boy Scouts. Way the heck out there.
The boys told us they never feared bear at night because the constant roar of the adult snoring kept all the self respecting bears miles away.