Pennsylvania Game News - November 2013 - 35

success with his big grin and tell me
how lucky I was.
Years continued to roll by and I still
didn't get my chance at a Pennsylvania
black bear. I tried to find "my bear" and
always had high hopes each time we
went to the woods. I listened to the
drives and heard the shots, hoping a
bear would come out of the cover in
my direction. But it never happened.
And every season, we tried again. As
Dad got older, he started to have health
issues and suffered a stroke and was
unable to make the trips to the deep
woods, but he still enjoyed trips to the
camp with the gang. Dad would stay
back at camp and have dinner ready
when we returned from a long cold
day of hunting. Each time we came
back, the thing that would have made
me happiest would have been to show
Dad a bear.
As we returned to camp for bear
season we were still hoping to take a
bruin, despite the history. But we were
missing our cook and fire-tender. Sitting around the cabin reflecting on past
trips and the coming season, we again
became very hopeful. There was a ton
of bear sign.
Heading to the woods the next
morning, I was excited to get back
to the spot I had scouted a few weeks
earlier. It was dark and the gang was
deep in thought wondering what the
new season would bring. When we arrived at the point for us to part ways,
we wished each other luck and headed
to our chosen spots.
Walking deep into the timber, my
brother and I set up in an area loaded
with bear sign and a history of producing bears. Sitting in the dark anticipating sunrise, my thoughts centered on
from where I could expect a bear.
NOVEMBER 2013

As the sun started to rise in the
distance I could hear drives starting.
As morning passed and the drives got
closer, shots echoed from the surrounding hillsides. My heart beat faster. I
knew if it was going to happen, it would
be soon.
In an instant, from the edge of the
mountain, a bear appeared. I couldn't
believe my eyes, after all my years of
waiting and hoping, in front of me was
my bear. All I had to do was make one
clean shot. As my Browning settled
into my shoulder, the bear appeared in
the crosshairs. With the safety already
off, I squeezed the trigger. The bear fell.
Lifting my head to ensure the bear
didn't get up, the woods went quiet.
Standing up from my blown down tree,
I couldn't believe it finally happened,
my bear was dead. Excitedly I walked
toward him. The bear was a 263-pound
male with perfect hair.
A short time later, I was greeted with
handshakes and high fives from the
gang. After tagging and field-dressing
the bear, we found a heavy pole and the
work began. While carrying the bear
through the woods it was still hard to
believe it had really happened, even
though the bear was right in front of
me.
After arriving at the truck, my hunting partners and I were sore and very
tired from the 3-mile trek, which took
most of six hours. When we pulled
into the driveway, I couldn't help but
notice, camp was dark and empty. After
unloading our gear, everyone filed into
the cabin. I stayed behind next to my
bear thinking how bittersweet this was.
I finally took my Pennsylvania black
bear and my dad wasn't there to see
it. But in my heart, I knew Charlie E.
Lentz Jr. was right there with me.
35

Pennsylvania Game News - November 2013

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