Bear Grease - Ep. 197: THIS COUNTRY LIFE - The Black Bear Bonanza

Episode Date: March 15, 2024

It's Black Bear Bonanza time in Arkansas and Brent’s gathering with hundreds of his closest friends to celebrate the American success story of the black bear. He tells the story of a life-changing black bear encounter that he credits as a resume booster. It's black bears, hooting owls, and good trades this week on MeatEater's This Country Life podcast.  Connect with Brent and MeatEater MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and Youtube Shop Bear Grease MerchSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves. From Coon Hunting to Trotlining and just general country living, I want you to stay a while as I share my stories and country skills that will help you beat the system. This Country Life is proudly presented as part of Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcast the Airways have to offer. All right, friends, pull you up a chair or drop that tailgate. I think I got a thing or two to teach you.

The Black Bear Bonanza. I just got home from the third annual, Black Bear Bonanza hosted by the Arkansas chapter of backcountry hunters and anglers. I had the pleasure of visiting with old friends and making new ones. I want to tell you all about it, but first, I'm going to tell you a story. The long and winding road that brought me in front of this microphone was a couple decades old when my old pal, Claibault, and I traveled to Saskatchewan in 2017.

He needed a cameraman and his luck would have it. I needed a free trip to Canada. What a coincidence. That trip seven years ago was one of the things that got a lot of industry eyes looking at my old podna. Now that and his incredible foundation of work in print and broadcast media, but a viral video never hurts.

Unless you're robbing a liquor store or filling fish full of trotline weights. But that video, you know the video, the one where the bear pokes his nose in our makeshift blind and his nose touches Clay's arrow, that one. If you hadn't seen it, I applaud your ability to fly under the radar because people send it to me all the time. Apparently, they think it's a pretty cool bit of footage and are unaware I'm the guy to filmed it. Anyway, there we sat, after riding in a boat for a couple hours in the Canadian wilderness, waiting on a bear that had been in and out of that area that was described as being the bear. They said, that's the bear you're looking for.

They didn't have a picture to show us, but they said, you'll know it when he's seen. Okay, boys, if you say so, eh? Now, even though it was an afternoon hunt, we were in no hurry to get set up after we got there. The sun never sets up there that late in June, and there was never a time that I couldn't have found my way around outside without the aid of a light at the darkest time of night, unless it was cloudy, but even then that didn't last long. We settled in the blind that was made from small jackpine limbs that had been tied together about waist high against a backdrop of standing trees. It was just big enough for us to get in with all my camera gear and we sat facing the bait barrel.

I set the camera up and we were finishing up shooting our air. introductory video when the first bear of the afternoon walked into the frame just as I was stopping recording. Now quickly I started recording again and you can see the brief split in the final production. Now normally I'd have kept running footage once the interview stopped to have plenty to edit with later. But this was the first day of a seven-day hunt in the land of the living skies and I was hoarding digital space on my hard drives like those folks on A&E store. of newspapers and dirty clothes. I didn't want to run out. Turned out, I wasn't going to need near about all the space I'd brought anyway.

Well, after that initial bear came in, and there was a steady stream of bears coming to the bait. One after another they came in. There was never a time when there was only one, and never a time when there weren't multiple bears behind us. And when I say behind us, I mean right behind us. us. Like when you're driving and someone is tailgating you, they are following too close. The person riding with you in the back seat, that's how close they were and what I mean when I say

they were right behind us. There was so much going on in front of us, I never had a chance to turn around to film the backseat bear jubilee that was taking place at our six o'clock. They were standing behind us within arm's reach of where we sat watching the Bears'clock. in front of us as the bait jockeying for position and deciding on where everyone was going to get some child without starting a hockey game or a fight. Now, Clay was there to shoot a bear, and I was there to film him doing it. For me to do my job, I have to operate the camera and watch the view screen to keep everything framed up properly.

I glanced behind us and I saw three bears close. Now, let's review. They were right behind us close. I could hear them breathing. I could hear them shuffling back and forth as they looked through the back of our blind, which, if you'll recall, was only a handful of standing jackpines. That could have no more kept a bear out than it could have kept out the wind. And I wasn't watching them.

I whispered to Clay, there's some bears behind us. He didn't seem too concerned, and understandably so. There were bears all around us, but the ones behind us were closer to us. than the ones in front of us. And the ones in front of us were from 25 to 5 yards away. I probably should mention about now that the only thing we had for self-defense was Clay's stick bow and had a maximum killing range of 25 yards. Some bear spray that's useful out to about 10 yards and anything beyond that was about

as effective as talking about the bear's mama. I glanced back and momentarily took my eyes off the viewfinder to see that two of the three bears had walked up to the very edge of where we were sitting. They couldn't get any closer without getting into blind with us. It's no exaggeration to say from where I was sitting that I could have grabbed one of them by the ear. Also, had they wanted to, they could have grabbed the hold of mine. They appeared to pay no attention to us.

Their immense focus was on the bears at the bait, and it made me feel even less significant. They were moving and bobbing their heads And looking around and over us at the other bears I knew they had no concern or fear for us And if the mood struck them That they'd just walk in and monkey stomp us On the way to the bait barrel It was like being betwixt the biggest hog in the trough

When someone hollered Suey You didn't want to be there Clay The bears are right behind us He didn't respond Clay He half turned around toward me and nodded

without looking back behind me acknowledging what I was saying but obviously unconcerned he was focused on the bears in front too, rightfully so they were laying at the bait they were walking around all within 25 yards of us and one of them came to

within a few yards none of which were as close as the bears behind us who at that time were more or less sitting in the same row was me watching the show. Clay, these bears. He turned around, I guess, realizing that I needed his attention finally and his eyes got big. He didn't say a word and I didn't either. He paused for a second and he turned his head back around to the bears out front. Now, I didn't need him to say or do anything. There wasn't anything to be said or done. I just didn't want it to be a shock to him when the

Donnybrook broke out behind him. I focused back on the viewfinder, and I never looked back. The two that were so close I could see out of the corner of my right eye the whole time they stood there. They eventually walked on around to the right of us and made their way toward the others. The third bear I lost track of, I didn't know where he went. Then the target bear appeared, and we knew immediately that it was him. He was a bigot.

jet black dark muzzle on a big old punking head it was it was him no doubt he eventually moved around and clay took his shot and he missed it was a sad it was a sad moment he was sick and upset with himself for missing i let him stew on it for about 20 seconds and i told him knock another air and get back in the game we were working and it was time to get back to it All-born, a young blonde sow came in. We watched them, as Clay so eloquently said in the film, frolic around in front of us, until their courtship was rudely interrupted by a big color phase bear that no one had ever seen before. He came in like a boss and chased him away from the area out of sight. Less than a minute later, he returned and so had the couple bears behind us.

I just happened to look back when he ran the happy couple off to see the two bears within ten feet that had watched the whole ordeal just as we had. I had no idea how long they'd been there, and I'm still amazed at how quiet they can be when they want to. My only defense at this point in this whole struggle was trying to look like I didn't taste good, or at least not as good as clay. They paid no attention to us.

The big board that had wrecked the petting party was making his way toward the bait now, and he paused to stand on his hind legs and sniff up a tree. It was then I fully realized how big he was. He then continued his path walking directly toward us, past the bait, getting closer with each step, and offering no shot for Clay to take. I kept filming. He kept getting bigger. I knew what I was filming was good, and I was determined to keep it rolling and framed up well if for nothing else so the mountains could fill out the report on what had happened to us.

I could hear that bare breathing as he walked closer. and I concentrated with all I had on what my job was, and that was to watch the viewfinder to make sure I captured as good as possible what was happening. Camera focus, framing, remaining calm, working to keep Clay and the bear in the shot kept me from being distracted from the fact that the bear was now as close as he could be without getting inside with us.

Then the bear half stood up and poked his head in the blind touching the tip of Clay's arrow in the process. Now, I'm not sure that little poke isn't what stopped him from coming on in and beating us both up. I wasn't scared, and I didn't think I was about to die, but I'll be honest with you. I didn't know that we weren't going to get chewed on a little bit. The bear turned to walk away, and Clay drilled him with a lethal hit that was a fatal wound as you could ask for. That shot might as well been a hand grenade because that bear stopped at 25 yards to fall over. then Clay made the best shot I have ever seen with a stick boat and 12 ringed that bear

who jumped out of the frame and died right out of sight, right then and right there. I looked away from the camera long enough to see the bears behind us had gone. Satisfied we were both going to live through this, I went back to work filming my brother have his come apart while reflecting on what had happened. Neither one of us fully understanding the gravity of what's. each of us had just done. We released that film on the bear hunting magazine YouTube channel and survived the death threats to us and our families from the commenters who said the bear spared us, so we should

have spared him. I guess they overlooked the fact that we were there legally, ethically, and their primary goal to shoot a bear, all of which we did. Anyway, that 14 minutes and 8 seconds of footage bolstered Clay's bona fides and helped him on his way to where he is now, and I'll tell you this, it didn't hurt my resume either. It's easy to forget sometimes that all the stuff you're seeing folks do on the screen and hear it on your speakers that there's another person there seeing it from the other side of the lens with a microphone.

Clay's fond of saying a rising tide, raises all ships. I'd say I'm proof of that. And that's just how that happened. Last spring, Clay Newcomb and I collaborated with Jason Phelps at Phelps Game Calls and building each of our own favorite turkey diaphragms

called Prime Cuts. Now, I'm going to tell you, I love mine because it's easy to use. I'm not going to go, I'm not going to win a turkey calling contest. It's just not going to happen. But when I run this call, I get the sounds that gobblers are looking for. I have a great turkey hunting and track record.

If you go listen to real turkeys out in the woods, they're not going to win calling contests, right? That's who I listen to. I can make those sounds on my cut. I also hunt with Phelps' cut, and I hunt with Clay's cut because they're all three great cuts. Check out Prime Cuts at Phelpsgamecalls.com. I think you'll be glad you did,

and you'll find out that the Steve Ronella cut is an easy-to-use cut for beginning callers who just want to start making good turkey noises and getting action. Last Saturday, me and over a thousand of my closest friends gathered in Bentonville, Arkansas, to celebrate Ursus Americana's American Black Bear. I absolutely love these curious creatures. I love how they hunt, how they live, how they spend the winters, and how they taste. I was there for the third annual Black Bear Bananza hosted by my friends in the Arkansas chapter

of the backcountry hunters and anglers. Now, I've been to every one of them, good Lord Will and I'll be at a bunch before my tenure's over. The event grew out of ideas from a group of like-binded souls who wanted to celebrate the resurgence of the Black Bear in the Ozarks of Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma, back around 2019. Now, those initial ideas got the ball rolling, and it hasn't slowed down. The first was scheduled for March of 2020. I was scheduled to tell a story at that one, but it was canceled due to the pandemic. Then in 2022, we had the first one, and for the last three years, the black bear bananza has been growing every year.

They moved to a bigger location this year, and it's a good thing. We couldn't have gotten all those folks at the old place. But don't let that keep you from planning to come visit next March. The crowd was big, but the feeling was as much of a lot. a small town as you could get. The BHA volunteer gals and guys put untold numbers of volunteer hours to put this event on and never get enough credit or recognition. Some had their family members there helping out as well.

It truly is a community-run operation, and the people who attend there are as much of that community as those working. Clay Newcomb and I rolled up a little after nine that morning, and there was a line of folks waiting to get in. I talked to so many people that like meat eater and that listen to bear grease and this country life and share an affinity for bears and all the other outdoor pursuits that were represented there. So many activities for kids to participate in and there were whole families represented with kids from infants to teens to adults with their parents. James Brandenburg is the Arkansas BHA chapter president and is quick to give the credit of the success of the

the whole event to all the volunteers and the folks working behind the scenes. Now, I was talking to James this morning, and I asked him how it all went on his end. Man, let me tell you, that cat was fired up about how it all came together, and while they don't have the specific numbers tallied up yet, he said he could testify that there was well over a thousand people in attendance and hundreds more kids than last years. It's free admission for 12 and under, and it was an absolute one. wonderful sight seeing all the kids that were there.

A young man named Gunner drew and colored me a picture after listening to a recent podcast I did. I have it hanging in my office now. It's beside the one that Owen drew me last November when I got sneak attacked by that kidney stone. The Bonanza was where I met Owen last year. Owen returned with his dad John and messed around and won the title of the Black Bear Bonanza the Al Houton Junior Championship of the Civilized World. I saw him visited with a man that I met at the first Black Bear Bonanza. I met him and his wife, and I remembered him because he was wearing a Stetson hat

like the one President Johnson made famous. He drove up from Dallas. I also saw their toddler playing and pushing a buggy around that they pushed her around in when she was an infant the first time I met him. I have literally seen that child grow up in the Black Bear neighborhood. I met new folks from Michigan that gave me a recipe for biscuits and making butter that I can't wait to try. The Tucker family, the Ramses, the Walkers, I could go on and on about the people that were there and how that singular event put so many different people from different points of the compass

in one spot to celebrate more than just Black Bear. I met a fellow from Ontario that drove down. That's overseas in Canada, for goodness sake. California, Florida, New York, and I'm pretty sure half of the population of Oklahoma probably be easier to list the states that weren't represented there than it was to list the ones that were. I look forward to seeing the little folks more than anything every year. And like James said, this year there were way more than any year before.

It was fantastic. My brothers in blue always show up. Thanks for the coins, Don. I talked to several folks that were in the military, but there was one fellow that stood out to me, and I met him backstage right before the Al-Hooten contest started. He was talking with some of the other volunteers who were keeping the event wheels greased and rolling smooth,

and I first assumed Will was one of the Arkansas BHA volunteers. Turns out I was only half right. He was a volunteer. But he'd driven down the day before from Idaho, and since he was a day early, but nothing else to do, he decided to do a little recon. Will drove to the fairgrounds and walked in the building where all the volunteers were busy as cats in a sandbox. Will asked if they needed any help. They put that Joker to work, and he jumped right in, working alongside everyone else. Now, I've hosted the Al-Hooten contest for the last two years, and between the rounds, the event gives away a ton of

door prizes that are donated by area businesses and corporations. I snatched up an FHF gear chest pack from the Meteeter South headquarters before we left Clay's house that morning and decided I'd give it away to whomever had driven the farthest. Well, after some lively debate, Will from Idaho won with 1,800-plus miles driven. It was close, but everyone agreed that he was the winner. I brought him on stage. I gave him his prize that I'd robbed from Clay's house, and James Brandenburg thanked him for volunteering, and then I asked him what he did for a living. Will said he just retired after 21 years in the military, and that place went crazy, erupted with

cheering, and that's where I know there's more than just hope for this country. There's promise to. It moved me a lot. It does still, just thinking about it. I handed him a case knife from my pocket, and I thanked him for his service to our nation, and I shook his hand. He went on his way, and we continued the contest, and Cameron Tidwell took home the Grown Folks Division Championship of Al Hootry. Now, later on, as the event was closing down around 5 o'clock, I was standing in the back, visited with some friends when I saw Will walking up. I assumed he was going to say goodbye. He said, I got something for you.

And he handed me a bench-made tactical knife that he'd carried on five combat deployments. Man, I didn't know what to say. But I understood the gift. It wasn't just a gift. It wasn't just a knife. He was entrusted me with something I know that was special to him, just like the one that I'd given him was special.

to me, along with my family's legacy with Case, that knife I gave him was a Christmas present last December from Alexis and Bailey, a replacement knife for the one I donated to the meat-eater auction last fall. Now, that auction was for a great cause, but I whined so much about it being gone that they bought me another one just like it so I'd shut up. I say all of that to say this. I can't think of a better thing to single out and pay homage to than people from all over this continent gathering under one roof, singularly focused on one thing. And I don't think it was black bears.

I wouldn't risk losing a dollar bet that there was more than 1% of the crowd there that had ever bear hunted. It was a celebration of bears, true enough. But of all the literal hundreds of conversations I have with people. Not one of them that I can remember was about bear hunting. There's good folks out there everywhere. And if you set a date and a time and invite them over, they'll come. Some of them will bring their young ones too. And you'll always find something to talk about, some common ground if you just listen and take turns. Don't forget that dates and times are set for the meat eater

live tour that's heading west. Tickets are available now and you can find out all the info at meat eater.com. I did one last December in Kansas City. Man, it was a lot of fun. These will be too. Y'all be sure and check out the Meadeter YouTube channel for a turkey hunting catfishing trip that me and O'Claibo did in Missouri last spring. You look for our Mississippi River Expedition film from January that's dropping very soon.

I think you'll like them both. And hey, before I get out of here, remember when I said at the close of this week's story about the people that work behind the scenes of the cool stuff you see in here well there's a farm girl from Iowa that works as hard as anyone on this show and a lot of others she's the best thanks rey little until next week this is brent reeves signing off y'all be careful on blood trails the stories don't end when the hunt is over they just get darker. I've seen something in the road. I instantly thought it was a sleeping bed and there was a full of blood. Oh my God, he doesn't have a hit. Blood Trails is a true crime podcast born in the

outdoors, where the terrain is unforgiving, the evidence is scarce and the truth gets buried under brush and silence. Indications were he should be right there and but he wasn't. This season, we're going deeper. From cold case files to whispered suspicions. From remote mountains to frozen backwoods. Each story begins in the wilderness and ends in darkness. Because out here, there are no witnesses, no cameras, just fragments, and the people left behind trying to piece them back together. He's not an honest person.

He's incapable of being honest. Somebody somewhere knows something. I'm Jordan Sillers. Season two of Blood Trails premieres April 16th. Follow now on Apple, Iheart, YouTube, or wherever. you get your podcasts.