It was four o'clock in the morning when the alarm rang, awaking my husband and I. This would be the first morning of the most unique hunt we had been on. The reason for our early rise was the long drive to our hunting location. About seventeen hours. We were getting up to take the two day trip to our first bear hunt in New Mexico. The Drive took us out of Missouri and into the beautiful Oklahoma Panhandle landscape that resembled a small version of the Badlands in South Dakota, then into the mountains of New Mexico.
Our final destination was Chama, New Mexico, a small mountain town near the Colorado border. I had elk hunted nearby in years past but had never been there in the early fall. Our bear hunt would be in 80 degree weather with zero humidity. Which was extremely comfortable compared to the humid Missouri heat. We met with our guide and long time friend Rick Rhoads, owner of BackRhoads Outfitters. After going over a map of tree stand locations and bear sightings, we were sent off to our cabin to prepare for the next days hunt.
The drive to the cabin was four miles down a curvy dirt road that wound its way into a mountain valley. On the way there we spotted our first bear, a cub, which gave us high expectations of the upcoming hunt. Our cabin was so far back into the mountain that electricity did not reach. This was the first time I would have traveled beyond the reach power lines. The cabin would be powered by gas, gas lighting, gas stove, and gas refrigerator. The quaint little cabin came complete with a little deck and barbeque grill, and even a fire heated hot tub. This was not roughing it, but it was the perfect get away for my husband and I.
Sleeping was virtually impossible as every little noise made us awaken, expecting it to be time to get up. So when the alarm rang once again we were up and dressed in no time. The anticipation was mounting as we loaded our bows and guns into the vehicles. We would sit in stands in the mornings and evenings, and "spot and stalk" in the afternoon. Our stands were over water holes, the best place to get close to a bear since baiting is illegal in New Mexico.
It was still pitch black as I was dropped off near my tree stand, I made my way using a small flashlight, hoping that there were no bears or mountain lions eying me as I went. Finding my ladder stand, which rose about fifteen feet up into the tree, I climbed in and waited. It was about a half hour before it became light enough for me to see. As the sun rose I began to get a grasp of the scenery I would be viewing for the next few hours. A small spring trickled from the ground creating a pool about 3 feet across. This would be the source of water I would be watching. It had been very dry in New Mexico and with the temperatures higher than normal, the animals would be frequenting the water holes. The place looked like a perfect spot for a bear to be, thick and brushy, with the only opening being around the spring, which laid about 15 yards from my stand. I watched chipmunks, and types of birds and squirrels that I had never scene before, scamper around the spring. This was the extent of my action for the day. I had not seen a trace of a bear, so I climbed down to go back to the cabin.
I cooked a breakfast of eggs and grits, and we sat down to discuss what we had seen. Both had the same reply, chipmunks. We relaxed for a while after eating, before getting back into the truck to drive around and see if we could spot some wildlife, and hopefully a bear. Mule deer crossed in front of us and stood at the side of the roads. They seemed to be everywhere. Both of us gasped when five mule deer bucks crossed the road in front of us. The last of which was a monster. A five by five, who was wider than us whitetail hunters could judge. He was the largest deer either of us had seen live. That kept us talking as we made our way back to the cabin and prepared for the nights hunt.
That evening would be similar for me, except this time instead of watching chipmunks wake up, I watched them prepare for bed. Patrick my husband came back with a different story. He had seen his first elk, a whole herd of them. But still, no bears. We went to bed that night, ready for the next days hunt, with the reality of the hunt in better perspective.
The next three days came and went without bear sightings. We had had a great time watching elk, deer, and turkeys, come and go with out noticing us, but nothing we could shoot at. The fourth day, I sat in my stand, having hunted for about 2 hours, when I heard a vehicle coming down the road. I turned around to see the truck coming my way with a bear in the back. Patrick had been successful. He gave me a thumbs up as he drove the bear down to our cabin. Seeing nothing, I joined him a couple hours later. He excitedly told me his story as I looked over his trophy. This was the first bear I had ever seen up close. It was a beautiful creature, with a broad head and large snout that enclosed his very vicious looking teeth. He had shot it with his gun at about sixty yards. I congratulated him, and inside I wanted to get one even more.
That evening I went out again, this time to a different stand that I had not yet hunted. It overlooked two small ponds and a small field. It would be here that I would see my first bear. I had with me only my bow as I waited and watched for something to come out into the field. I had been slowly watching in every direction when I turned my head to see something moving in the corner of the field. It was a bear, walking towards me. He was a slimmer bear, with blond colored longer hair on his back and a cinnamon colored lower body. My heart began to race, but quickly sunk as I realized that he would soon walk directly downwind of me, I prayed he would not smell me, but if there is one advantage a bear has, it is his nose. The bear stopped about 50 yards from me, nosing the air. I knew what he smelled. I was ready to shoot if he came the extra 10 to 20 yards closer, but he would not. He had had enough of my scent, and he turned and walked away.
I was disappointed but at least I had finally come in contact with a bear. I sat and thought about what I could have done to prevent the bear winding me for the next hour. Then I heard something crashing through the woods, surely this was not a bear, not making that much noise. It wasn't. A cow elk stepped out of the brushed and cautiously looked around the ponds, satisfied she walked to the bank and began to drink. A calf followed, and soon after, the whole heard appeared. About thirty cows and calves in all. The calves ran and chased each other like children, as the mothers drank and grazed. Then I heard a huge splash, and to my surprise, one of the elk had jumped right in. Others followed, I watched as the elk swam around in the pond. The calves splashed and bucked, frolicking in the water. As fast as the elk had come, they grew tired of their water games, and disappeared back into the woods. Then, after the others had left, a lone bull elk stepped out of the brush. It was a five by five, his antlers shown pearl white, some velvet still hanging off at the bases. He looked majestic as he slowly and cautiously strode to the waters edge, and drank. He left the way he had come. The sight had made the evening sit worth it for me.
Not long after the elk had left, I noticed movement once again in the corner of the field. It was another bear, and this time he was much bigger. His coat shown coal black across the field, as he took his time eating choke cherry along the field's edge. My heart began to beat so hard I could almost hear it. If the wind stayed the same it would be perfect. The bear slowly made his way towards the pond bank, and drank right where the elk had. I just knew he would walk the same path as the other bear and I would get a shot. But he didn't. After the drink he turned and walked back the way he had come, back to the corner of the field, and farther away from me. I sat, watching him, saying, "Please come back" over and over in my head. He did, he turned and started back towards the pond, this time walking around the other side and coming in from behind me. I had no clear shot or vision back there, so I sat and listened. I could hear heavy sniffing as the bear came in and out of view. He was walking the trail I had come in on, and smelling the whole way. He came into sight directly behind my stand, about 15 yards away. His loud sniffing and grunting making me began to tremble with excitement and fear. Then he stood up on his hind legs. He had to be seven feet tall, and he had to smell me. I sat shaking, wondering if he could see me, my bow ready for him to come into a clearing. But he did not; he put all fours back on the ground, and walked away. I sat, my heart still racing. That was as close of an encounter as I could handle. It grew dark and I waited for Patrick to come and pick me up. I decided to take a gun on the last day of my hunt.
I sat the next morning seeing nothing, and began to get discouraged coming back in for lunch. I wanted to kill a bear. I had come close, really close, but I had yet to accomplish my goal. After lunch we left back out for the tree stands. As I was slipping down to my tree stand for the final evening of the hunt I noticed something black underneath it. I was still about 200 yards from it, but I could clearly see the black furry dot. It was a bear, not 20 yards from my stand. He was unaware of me, so I slipped down the path for a clear shot. Once I found it I knelt down and steadied my .270 on my knee. I took my time, and waited for the bear to turn. He did, quartering away, the perfect shot on a bear. I took aim and squeezed the trigger. The blast caused me to temporarily lose sight of the bear in my scope. Once I found him again, I saw that he was down.
I had done it; I had gone bear hunting and been successful. It would be an understatement to say I was excited. I could hardly contain myself as I quickly walked up to the bear. I poked it from behind with a stick to make sure, and when I was satisfied, I called my husband on the radio. It was a beautiful bear, pure black with a nice thick coat. I could not believe I had done it. This had been the hunt of a lifetime. Not only had I been successful in killing a bear, but I had the experience of a lifetime. I would never forget it.
Back Rhoads Outfitters is a place for just that, the experience of a lifetime. Whether your dream is to watch as a rutting bull elk makes his way bugling into your sights, or to stalk that high, wide racked trophy mule deer, or even trophy trout fishing in mountain streams. Back Rhoads can make that dream come true for you. With over 100,000 acres available in three different states, many successful hunters have left, dreams fulfilled. The professional guides have one thing in mind, and that is to make the hunt worth it for you. I have hunted with Rick Rhoads, owner of Back Rhoads, for many years, besides bears, he has helped me to be successful elk hunting, Rio grand turkey hunting, and Merriam turkey hunting. I know from personal experience that this is one of the top outfitters in the country. Hunts range from elk to upland game, from pronghorn antelope to turkey, a great variety of hunts are available.
