Bruins Eye to Eye: For pure Hunting excitement, nothing compares with stalking bears.

FTER RIDING OUT TWO DAYS of angry weather in ad uncomfortably shallow cove, my friend Ernie Holland and I were ready to leave the confines of the boat for some serious bear hunting. After a rough " hour run across a long, open strait we pulled Bryan Wilson's American Dream vessel into a sheltered bay that has provided me with years. worth of memorable Alaskan spring bear hunting Dropping the hook in that did, familiar anchorage felt like a home coming for me, and as Bryan rustled around the galley to organize our evening meal Ernie and I set oft' in a skiff to explore the shoreline.

Barely 10 minutes from the mother ship, I spotted a jet black form silhouetted against a patch of lush green beach grass still glistering from the recent rains I didn't need high Power optics to recognize the bear as a prime mature boar. Slowly backing off the outboard throttle I let the skiff glide to a stop for a last minute assessment of the wind direction. (While spring bears feeding along the shore will us ignore the sound of a motor in abrupt change in pitch can send them back into the woods for good.)

Once we had the wind gauged I eased The skiff into the shallows, and Ernie climbed over the side With a falling tide, I had to retreat to deeper water to watch the stalk, or else we might have been left high and dry for hours. We'd deliberately put a point of timber between us and the bear, and that provided Ernie with the cover he needed to close quickly.

But from my position in the skiff I could see something Ernie could not. As he reached the point, the bear decided to take a short cut and entered the woods scarcely 20 yards from Ernie. My frantic gesturing proved of no avail. As Ernie peeked around the corner, the bear lumbered out onto the beach again, right behind Ernie. For an instant I thought Ernie still might salvage a shot, but the bear hit his scent line and exploded back into the cover in a clatter of gravel I could hear from 300 yards offshore.

No matter. By the time I had reached Ernie with the skiff, I'd already spotted another big black cruiser a half mile away down the bay. This time, it was his turn to bob around on the water and watch through his glasses while I pulled an exquisite sneak only to be undone at the last possible second by a treacherous breeze. Bowhunters who choose to tackle bears by stalking one-on-one can be called many things, not all of them are flattering.

But one thing they will usually not be called is bored!

SUCCESS AT THIS CHALLENGING game of stalking bears first requires finding the bears, which depends upon knowledge of their habits. Years ago, I lived in Alaska's Game Management Unit 15, on the Kenai Peninsula, which supports one of the highest black bear populations in the world. Even there, casual bear sightings were rare, since bears are solitary, secretive animals with an affinity for dense cover. As always when it comes time to go bear hunting, finding them meant knowing when and where to look.

Strategy begins with an understanding of black bear feeding behavior and preferred food sources. Bears are true omnivores, meaning they will eat anything digestible, a surprisingly rare biological trait among large animals shared only with pigs and primates (including us). At the higher latitudes inhabited by black bears, food sources vary tremendously from month to month as the seasons progress. Because they need to gain a quarter of their own body weight every year as fat stores to sustain them through winter hibernation, bears are masters at moving rapidly from one preferred food source to the next to gather calories. Bottom line: Know what they're eating and you'll know where to find the bears.

In Alaska and the Mountain West, black bears emerge from their dens between mid-April and early May, depending a bit on latitude and sex of the bear (mature boars usually leave the dens earlier than sows with cubs). Initially, bears require a vegetarian diet to prime their dormant digestive tracts. In alpine terrain, spring bears predictably follow the retreating snowline up the mountainsides, searching out the first tender grass tips of the year on sun-exposed southern slopes. In coastal Alaska, the table is set at a lower elevation, and bears usually descend from their dens to graze on forbs along tide flats and beaches. Both situations draw normally reclusive bears into the open, where the animals can be taken by spot-and-stalk tactics.

Later in the spring, bears reacquire their taste for protein, often in the form of winter-killed game. Then, when moose, elk, and deer begin to drop their young (normally in early June), bears become active predators. In the area where I used to live, up to 50 percent of each year's moose calves in their first weeks of life fell to black bears. At that time of year, hunters should scan hills and beaches for bears feeding on carrion, or they should still-hunt through primary calving and fawning grounds.

Early summer can be a relatively difficult time to locate bears, since thick foliage restricts glassing and bears tend to be dispersed. Besides, because of poor hide quality that's not a popular time to hunt anyway.

In coastal areas, everything changes once salmon begin to return to the streams. By late summer and early fall, salmon streams can provide some of the most exciting bear hunting opportunities of all.

To the uninitiate, all salmon look pretty much the same. But experienced Alaskans recognize considerable differences among the five Pacific salmon species -- as do the bears. Kings arrive first, usually in June. They're a ton of fun to catch on a fly rod, but because of their relatively small numbers and the timing of their runs, they're of little importance to bear hunters. Reds (sockeyes) show up next (in drainages that contain a lake capable of supporting outbound smolt), and this species begins to draw bears to the streams. In late summer, when bear hides begin to fill in, pinks and dogs arrive, and by September bears will usually be concentrated along streams containing these species. In south-coastal Alaska, pink salmon literally choke streams at this time of year, but my impression is that bears don't like to eat spawning pinks any more than I do. Consequently, I try to find pockets of reds or dogs among the pinks and concentrate my hunting efforts there. Silvers -- my favorite fly rod quarry, by the way -- enter streams last. They seldom crowd the water as their predecessors, and the bears have often abandoned the streams by then to feed on berries. However, silvers will remain on the spawning beds well into October, and they often tempt bears back for one last fish dinner after the frost has knocked the berries down. If you can find a small stream with a good late run of silvers, the late-season bear hunting there can often be excellent.

As noted, bears tend to leave salmon streams sometime in September, depending on the timing of the local salmon runs and the state of the year's berry crop. As hibernation approaches, they shift their attention from the protein-rich salmon bounty to the pure calories provided by ripe berries.

In inland areas with salmon runs, berries make up the preferred food source during late summer and early fall, and bears will dependably move to the crop that offers the best ratio of caloric intake to expenditure. Since many berry species grow in open areas, this represents an ideal spot-and-stalk opportunity. If you see a bear feeding in the open at this time, try to determine what kind of berries he's eating. Even if you blow one stalk, you'll know what the bears are eating -- and where to find the next one.

One last observation about bears' dining habits deserves mention. During the last week or two prior to denning, which usually takes place in late November, depending on conditions and latitude, bears enter a period of intense feeding that biologists term hyperphagia. Bears move constantly, feeding on any food source they can find, sometimes throwing caution to the wind. This obviously represents a prime hunting opportunity, but be advised that hyperphagic bears can be unusually aggressive -- a potential advantage if you're trying to kill one but a downright nuisance if you're simply hunting deer on Kodiak Island.

UNDERSTANDING FOOD SOURCES may be the key to locating bears, but you still have to get within bow range to deliver a killing shot. And for a variety of reasons, that has to be close indeed no matter what your shooting ability. Bears are incredibly tough animals, both mentally and physically; their body stature makes it difficult to visualize, proper shot placement; they leave poor blood trails following a hit; and after taking a hit they invariably head straight for the nastiest cover around. Anything less than a perfect double lung shot can spell disaster, so exercise discipline in your shot selection and get as close as circumstances allow. I don't take shots over 20 yards at bears, and I hesitate to hunt with any one who does.

When planning an approach to a bear, remember to consider your quarry's nose first, ears second, and eyes third. Bears enjoy a superb sense of smell and rely heavily on their noses, probably as a means of compensating for their relatively poor vision. That's why it's rare to find one moving downwind. There are exceptions, generally when bears are feeding aggressively, which is why salmon streams and the hyperphagia phenomenon offer such good opportunities for a close shot.

Bears' hearing is badly underrated in my opinion, and over the years I've had countless close range encounters terminated by some minor sound on my part. A few years ago, with the wind in my face I was oozing up a little stream on a tide flat toward a bear. I wasn't even lifting my boots out of the water, but as I was about to shoot, the bear heard the change in pitch from the current swirling past my feet and bolted off like a scolded dog. Beaches are notoriously noisy because of gravel and washed-up debris along the tideline, which can always add to the difficulty of stalking spring bears along the coast. Berry patches on the other hand frequently offer very quiet footing especially on open tundra. Plan your; stalk according to noise conditions, always wear quiet clothing, don't hesitate to slip out of your boats for your final approach and check all of your equipment for possible noise sources before setting off.

While vision remains the bear's weakest sense, it still deserves respect. Bears don't recognize patterns well so camouflage clothing isn't essential, but they are sensitive to movement, especially at point-blank shooting ranges. If you're fortunate enough to move into position with a bear feeding toward you, keep your eye on the animal and do all your last-minute moving when the bear's head is down: get your feet placed properly, raise your bow into shooting position, and wait. If and when the animal presents a close broadside, you have to do nothing but draw slowly and release.

The mere thought of deliberately putting yourself close to a powerful potentially dangerous animal inevitably raises the issue of firearm backup. While I respect black bears and recognize that they statistically cause as many injuries as grizzlies, my approach to them reflects my own experience. Of the hundreds of black bears I've closed on over the years, most have fled like whitetails at the first suggestion of human presence. Only two mature boars have displayed aggressive behavior. One of those I killed with my bow, and the second retreated at the last minute without presenting a shot opportunity. I have carrying any kind of firearm when I'm stalking, so I don't, although for blood trails in thick brush.

That's not to say black bears can't make your hair stand up from time to time. I've witnessed some very impressive threat displays from sows with cubs, although they all ended promptly with a purposeful retreat on my part. And even mature, normally wary boars can occasionally surprise you.

One spring my old hunting partner Joe Sangster was visiting my wife, Lori, and me at our house in southeast Alaska. We set off one evening to explore a nearby tide flat and promptly spotted a nice bear grazing along the edge of the woods across the stream draining the flat. As Joe set off on the stalk, I sat down to keep track of the bear through my binoculars. When Joe reached the stream, the bear was about 60 yards away from him, eclipsed by a steep bank of beach gravel. The air lay still and quiet that nigh, and as Joe started across the water, the gurgle of the current against his boots easily reached my ears -- and the bear's. Rather than disappearing into the forest according to script, the bear pivoted and started in Joe's direction, first at a walk and then at a brisk, loping pace, looking for all the world like an oversized Labrador retriever responding to a whistle. Neither party could see the other across the gravel bank, and a close range encounter seemed inevitable. Since I regard a bear that do es anything other than run away as potential trouble, I was regretting my decision to leave the shotgun behind by the time Joe and the equally surprised bear met at a range of 6 feet. To his credit, Joe tried to fumble and arrow onto his bowstring, but the encounter ended without harm to either participant.

Win, lose, or draw, stalking bears always has a way of turning into an adventure.

WHILE THIS DISCUSSION has focused on the more generally available black bear, most of these principles apply to grizzlies as well, and I'll conclude by describing a stalk on a grizzly that illustrates how to put all these ideas together successfully.

A decade ago, I participated in two exploratory trips to the then Soviet Far East with my old friends and long-time hunting partners Ray Stalmaster and Doug Borland. Ray and I spent the first week of our spring bear hunt fighting terrible weather in a camp some five miles upstream from the remote Sea of Okhotsk. With 6 feet of snow on the ground, there wasn't much for bears to eat, and as soon as the weather allowed I suggested we hike down to the coast. As soon as we reached the beach I spotted a nice boar a mile away working toward us, licking herring roe off the seaweed deposited by the last high tide.

The beach was perhaps 60 yards wide, and the wind was blowing hard from land to sea. While the bear was moving steadily in our direction with a steady crosswind, I saw two immediate problems: the beach gravel was incredibly noisy, and there was no cover downwind of the bear's travel route. Then I spotted a potential solution to both problems: a narrow feeder stream running through a deep cut across the beach halfway to the bear. Without further ado, I set off and reached the cover of the streambed undetected.

My plan was to lie hidden in the cut and to maneuver into position 20 yards downwind of the bear when he crossed. It worked like a charm. Although the bear was tacking back and forth across the beach as he fed, the sound of the stream disguised my boot steps and allowed me to work into perfect position with the wind in my face when he finally presented himself broadside a few short yards away. The memory of my fletching disappearing behind that massive shoulder will remain with me forever just as that prime spring hide reminds me of all you need to know about stalking bears: find the food source, analyze the wind, respect the quarry's hearing, pick a spot, and shoot straight.

And be careful out there!

E. Donnall Thomas, Jr., an internist living in Montana, regularly appears in Bowhunter as the "Adventuresome Bowman."