We don't really mind bears that just pass through our remote and wooded property. After all, we moved into their neighborhood. I've passively watched one play with a sheet pulled off the laundry line. Another watched me from behind a tree as I walked in and out of various sheds. A third chased a moose through a meadow. But curious bears that linger or repeatedly return have proved to be a menace. They have knocked over our beehives and burn barrels, tried to break into the chicken coop, chewed plastic hoses and rubber tires and even pulled plywood planks out from under our cabin. We are meticulous about reducing garbage and cook scents, but bears will be bears. They are curious and resourceful creatures.
So my husband maintains a current hunting license, and every year or two one of these destructive black bears ends up in my pressure cooker, providing dozens of flavorful and nutritious meals.
AVIAN WARNING SYSTEM
To my surprise, our hens and ducks are excellent indicators of not only A predator but the TYPE of predator in the vicinity. (As low as they are on the food chain, I guess this makes sense). They chitter at tiny but carnivorous weasels, make a throaty sort of chicken growl and raise one eye to the sky when circled by an eagle or owl, and go radio silent for bears.
Three times this summer, for several days each, the hens' behavior alerted us that a bear was hovering nearby, just out of sight. They remained on the roost long past schedule, started hiding eggs in the ferns far from their usual nesting boxes, and stayed close to us, wherever we were working or sitting. Sure enough, each time we encountered evidence of a bear in the yard, such as piles of scat or a punctured wheelbarrow tire. Early one morning last week, Bryan caught a glimpse of a big bruin that he thought could be the same bear returning on a nearly predictable three week circuit, which, Fish and Game wardens have learned from tagging live bears, some do. So, right on schedule, when the hens again warned us of a bear, Bryan checked his .338 rifle and set it by the door.
THE SHOT
At 7:30 am the next morning, we heard the bells jingle on our burn barrel lid. A large black bear had nosed it ajar, but, finding nothing of interest, he ambled past the locked chicken coop, through some trees, and out to a meadow next to our cabin. I watched long enough to ensure that he was alone (so a boar) and not trailed by cubs (not a sow), while Bryan retrieved his .338. He shot the bear from the front porch at a distance of about 100 yards through the shoulders/chest while it was walking.
The bear rolled over, moaned, and staggered into an adjacent alder thicket. We waited for it to bleed out and then tracked the blood on the damp foliage to where he lay, about thirty yards away from the shot, in a patch of prickly devil's club (of course). Bryan delivered a coup de grace shot with a .44 magnum revolver and then poked him with a 2x4 board to ensure that he was not napping. The stiffened limbs suggested that the bear had died right after the shoulder shot.
Now what? An adult male black bear can be 350 lbs, and 5 feet from nose to tail. This fellow was at least that size, and it was drizzling, prickly, and buggy where he lay.
BEAR PROCESSING (Trigger warning: two photos of dead bear below)
Bryan retrieved his ATV and chain, while I waded through the tall grass and hummocks of ferns, endeavoring to figure out the flattest route for the vehicle among downed trees, and stumps of alders, birch and spruce. Bryan wrapped a chain around the animal's hind legs and dragged it uphill to the wood corral, where he has a pulley and bar system to hoist animals so he can stand up when skinning them, rather than hunching over for hours at a time.
We peered dubiously at the pulleys. They had been adequate for prior bears but looked puny for this one. He measured more than 5 feet from nose to tail, with a barrel chest and hind legs almost 3 feet long, straightened. He was going to yield a lot of meat for future meals. Bryan hoisted part of the body weight up and then we manhandled a large tarp under the torso. Bryan assembled his tools, including gloves, a bone saw, a serrated Cutco skinning blade, and clever deer skinning knife of his dad's that holds the skin away from the meat while cutting through it, to avoid inadvertent punctures. Meanwhile, I set several five gallon buckets next to the deep utility sink in the wash house, and partially filled each one with a vinegar and water solution to receive the meat for an overnight soak.
Fortunately, the temperature was cool and damp enough to suppress any flies, and the incessant rain of this wet summer abated for the next four hours while Bryan sliced patiently to separate the hide in one neat piece from the one inch layer of fat that the bear had accumulated by this date in August. Although our spring bears have always been lean and tasty (like beef), I worried about how this one might taste, having read unappealing reports of greasy and gamey late summer bears. However, this one certainly smelled clean and neutral.
SEALING REQUIREMENT
Alaska Fish and Game (F&G) rules require hunters to bring hides, with evidence of gender, and the head within thirty days to be “sealed” by an official who confirms the hunter's license and then measures the skull, checks the age (by teeth) and gender and reports where and why the bear was shot. This is so inconvenient (M-F, 9 - 5, in very few locations) that I wonder what percentage of hunters actually comply. However, we planned to obey, even thought that meant flying 20 minutes to the nearest road and then driving the smelly pelt and bloody skull another 2 hours...one way.
When he was ready to work on the back of the bear, the two of us could not turn him over. So Bryan cut off the head and dropped it in a bucket for F&G and then hauled the leg joints over to the wash house. That weight shed, we used the tarp to flip the torso.
When Bryan was finished with the hide, we shoved it into a huge, heavy duty garbage bag with the head and stored both in a chest freezer that I had emptied to make room, since weather predictions indicated it would be at least a week until the skies would be clear enough for Bryan to fly/drive to a F&G office.
Now, what to do with the torso? The ribs were too big for any of my cook pans and I've never developed a taste for internal organs. Besides, opening the gut sack in our yard would immediately attract hungry carnivores of many species. Instead, the two of us huffed and puffed as we dragged the tarped body downhill to our dock to our tandem kayak. I shoved the bow seat all the way forward, got in, with my legs on top of the boat, and steadied it as best I could while Bryan rolled the tarp into the middle, between the seats. The kayak slipped deeper into the water, and, once Bryan got in, too, the gunwhales lay about 3 inches above the water line.
We nervously eyed the ominous rain clouds building above the mountains. We had so little clearance that windswept waves and rain would make a miserable and perhaps dangerous trip. So we decided to hug the shore instead of rowing straight across, to deposit the carcass in the bog on the far side of the lake, away from us and the only other occupied cabin within many miles of our remote location. At the bog, I shoved the paddle deep into the mucky bottom of the lake while Bryan climbed out onto the spongy surface, tipping the boat precariously as he pulled the heavy weight out and as far away from the shoreline as he could. Quickly, we paddled home, as rain began to fall in earnest, and an eagle flew over us, homing in on the bear.
BUTCHERING, COOKING, RENDERING
Over the next two rainy days, Bryan rinsed and butchered the meat in the wash house, carefully inspecting for any evidence of parasites or worms. The meat was clean. I smoked some and canned 18 quarts, which will yield 50 or more shelf stable meals for the two of us. How much money would that equivalent of fillets and pot roast cost at a store, I wonder?
Bear meat is filling like beef, and it tastes like it, too. Most of the time I cook it in a pressure cooker, as I would a brisket or pot roast, to a fork tender texture. Only the tender backstrap is suitable, in my experience, for brief cooking on the grill or stove. We always enjoy that, fresh, for the first two meals. Subsequent meals may be bear spaghetti, chili, or, a personal favorite, moo shoo bear. Having read unappealing descriptions of late summer bear flavors, I was relieved that this meat tasted just as good as leaner bear in prior years.
Because of this bear's fat layer, I had my first opportunity to render the white fat into a golden oil with a neutral flavor and the added benefit of several vitamins, too. I preserved a quart and a half which replaced the safflower oil that I usually use in baking and sauteing. On a future bear, I will render more.
MOTHER NATURE CLEANS UP
For two days, through the rain and fog, we could hear the ravens gathering at the bear's remains. The third day provided a sunny respite in a dreary summer, so we paddled back to assess how quickly Mother Nature had cleaned the carcass. We were astonished. Not only had the bones been picked clean, but some large bear had dragged the body about 20 feet away from where Bryan had dumped it. Nothing would go to waste. Over ensuing weeks, the cartilage would be nibbled, the bones scattered. Over time, even tiny creatures will gnaw the bones for the calcium.
This bear will feed us for a long time, but our neighboring carnivores eat a lot faster.
Because of the rainy weather, we were unable to fly to Fish and Game on a week day, but a kind taxidermist with sealing qualifications offered to open his shop on a Saturday to record the bear in accordance with regulations. He pronounced the hide in good condition - no rubs or scars, so we hired him to tan it for us, a process that will take several months. We will use it to warm our bed.
Thus, thanks to the alert signaling of our little chickens, and three or four days of human labor, this bear will feed us and keep us warm this winter. Thank you!
So my husband maintains a current hunting license, and every year or two one of these destructive black bears ends up in my pressure cooker, providing dozens of flavorful and nutritious meals.
AVIAN WARNING SYSTEM
To my surprise, our hens and ducks are excellent indicators of not only A predator but the TYPE of predator in the vicinity. (As low as they are on the food chain, I guess this makes sense). They chitter at tiny but carnivorous weasels, make a throaty sort of chicken growl and raise one eye to the sky when circled by an eagle or owl, and go radio silent for bears.
Three times this summer, for several days each, the hens' behavior alerted us that a bear was hovering nearby, just out of sight. They remained on the roost long past schedule, started hiding eggs in the ferns far from their usual nesting boxes, and stayed close to us, wherever we were working or sitting. Sure enough, each time we encountered evidence of a bear in the yard, such as piles of scat or a punctured wheelbarrow tire. Early one morning last week, Bryan caught a glimpse of a big bruin that he thought could be the same bear returning on a nearly predictable three week circuit, which, Fish and Game wardens have learned from tagging live bears, some do. So, right on schedule, when the hens again warned us of a bear, Bryan checked his .338 rifle and set it by the door.
THE SHOT
At 7:30 am the next morning, we heard the bells jingle on our burn barrel lid. A large black bear had nosed it ajar, but, finding nothing of interest, he ambled past the locked chicken coop, through some trees, and out to a meadow next to our cabin. I watched long enough to ensure that he was alone (so a boar) and not trailed by cubs (not a sow), while Bryan retrieved his .338. He shot the bear from the front porch at a distance of about 100 yards through the shoulders/chest while it was walking.
 |
| L-R: .338, .44 magnum, .44 magnum (spent/recovered) |
Now what? An adult male black bear can be 350 lbs, and 5 feet from nose to tail. This fellow was at least that size, and it was drizzling, prickly, and buggy where he lay.
BEAR PROCESSING (Trigger warning: two photos of dead bear below)
Bryan retrieved his ATV and chain, while I waded through the tall grass and hummocks of ferns, endeavoring to figure out the flattest route for the vehicle among downed trees, and stumps of alders, birch and spruce. Bryan wrapped a chain around the animal's hind legs and dragged it uphill to the wood corral, where he has a pulley and bar system to hoist animals so he can stand up when skinning them, rather than hunching over for hours at a time.
We peered dubiously at the pulleys. They had been adequate for prior bears but looked puny for this one. He measured more than 5 feet from nose to tail, with a barrel chest and hind legs almost 3 feet long, straightened. He was going to yield a lot of meat for future meals. Bryan hoisted part of the body weight up and then we manhandled a large tarp under the torso. Bryan assembled his tools, including gloves, a bone saw, a serrated Cutco skinning blade, and clever deer skinning knife of his dad's that holds the skin away from the meat while cutting through it, to avoid inadvertent punctures. Meanwhile, I set several five gallon buckets next to the deep utility sink in the wash house, and partially filled each one with a vinegar and water solution to receive the meat for an overnight soak.
Fortunately, the temperature was cool and damp enough to suppress any flies, and the incessant rain of this wet summer abated for the next four hours while Bryan sliced patiently to separate the hide in one neat piece from the one inch layer of fat that the bear had accumulated by this date in August. Although our spring bears have always been lean and tasty (like beef), I worried about how this one might taste, having read unappealing reports of greasy and gamey late summer bears. However, this one certainly smelled clean and neutral.
SEALING REQUIREMENT
Alaska Fish and Game (F&G) rules require hunters to bring hides, with evidence of gender, and the head within thirty days to be “sealed” by an official who confirms the hunter's license and then measures the skull, checks the age (by teeth) and gender and reports where and why the bear was shot. This is so inconvenient (M-F, 9 - 5, in very few locations) that I wonder what percentage of hunters actually comply. However, we planned to obey, even thought that meant flying 20 minutes to the nearest road and then driving the smelly pelt and bloody skull another 2 hours...one way.
When he was ready to work on the back of the bear, the two of us could not turn him over. So Bryan cut off the head and dropped it in a bucket for F&G and then hauled the leg joints over to the wash house. That weight shed, we used the tarp to flip the torso.
When Bryan was finished with the hide, we shoved it into a huge, heavy duty garbage bag with the head and stored both in a chest freezer that I had emptied to make room, since weather predictions indicated it would be at least a week until the skies would be clear enough for Bryan to fly/drive to a F&G office.
Now, what to do with the torso? The ribs were too big for any of my cook pans and I've never developed a taste for internal organs. Besides, opening the gut sack in our yard would immediately attract hungry carnivores of many species. Instead, the two of us huffed and puffed as we dragged the tarped body downhill to our dock to our tandem kayak. I shoved the bow seat all the way forward, got in, with my legs on top of the boat, and steadied it as best I could while Bryan rolled the tarp into the middle, between the seats. The kayak slipped deeper into the water, and, once Bryan got in, too, the gunwhales lay about 3 inches above the water line.
We nervously eyed the ominous rain clouds building above the mountains. We had so little clearance that windswept waves and rain would make a miserable and perhaps dangerous trip. So we decided to hug the shore instead of rowing straight across, to deposit the carcass in the bog on the far side of the lake, away from us and the only other occupied cabin within many miles of our remote location. At the bog, I shoved the paddle deep into the mucky bottom of the lake while Bryan climbed out onto the spongy surface, tipping the boat precariously as he pulled the heavy weight out and as far away from the shoreline as he could. Quickly, we paddled home, as rain began to fall in earnest, and an eagle flew over us, homing in on the bear.
BUTCHERING, COOKING, RENDERING
Over the next two rainy days, Bryan rinsed and butchered the meat in the wash house, carefully inspecting for any evidence of parasites or worms. The meat was clean. I smoked some and canned 18 quarts, which will yield 50 or more shelf stable meals for the two of us. How much money would that equivalent of fillets and pot roast cost at a store, I wonder?
Bear meat is filling like beef, and it tastes like it, too. Most of the time I cook it in a pressure cooker, as I would a brisket or pot roast, to a fork tender texture. Only the tender backstrap is suitable, in my experience, for brief cooking on the grill or stove. We always enjoy that, fresh, for the first two meals. Subsequent meals may be bear spaghetti, chili, or, a personal favorite, moo shoo bear. Having read unappealing descriptions of late summer bear flavors, I was relieved that this meat tasted just as good as leaner bear in prior years.
Because of this bear's fat layer, I had my first opportunity to render the white fat into a golden oil with a neutral flavor and the added benefit of several vitamins, too. I preserved a quart and a half which replaced the safflower oil that I usually use in baking and sauteing. On a future bear, I will render more.
MOTHER NATURE CLEANS UP
For two days, through the rain and fog, we could hear the ravens gathering at the bear's remains. The third day provided a sunny respite in a dreary summer, so we paddled back to assess how quickly Mother Nature had cleaned the carcass. We were astonished. Not only had the bones been picked clean, but some large bear had dragged the body about 20 feet away from where Bryan had dumped it. Nothing would go to waste. Over ensuing weeks, the cartilage would be nibbled, the bones scattered. Over time, even tiny creatures will gnaw the bones for the calcium.
 |
| All that's left |
This bear will feed us for a long time, but our neighboring carnivores eat a lot faster.
Because of the rainy weather, we were unable to fly to Fish and Game on a week day, but a kind taxidermist with sealing qualifications offered to open his shop on a Saturday to record the bear in accordance with regulations. He pronounced the hide in good condition - no rubs or scars, so we hired him to tan it for us, a process that will take several months. We will use it to warm our bed.
Thus, thanks to the alert signaling of our little chickens, and three or four days of human labor, this bear will feed us and keep us warm this winter. Thank you!
Thank you for an amazing account of what humans have been doing for centuries. How silly to have to put trigger warnings on photographs of dead bears for people who will buy factory farmed chicken without a second thought, chickens who live their entire lives in agony.
ReplyDeleteI loved every sentence of it, Laura.
ReplyDelete