Pennsylvania Game News - April 2021 - 52

" Let's go, " I told Greg, finishing off my
water.
Heading out the trail, things quickly
looked better than I'd expected. The woods
started to open up after about 300 yards.
But when the trail bended around a patch
of brush on top of a ridge, Greg checked the
park map. The trail led back to the middle
of the park. We decided to go a little farther,
then turn around and call it a day.
Sneaking out the trail with my .270 slung
over my shoulder, I looked over the open
woods downhill to my left and began scanning some brush that edged it. I saw a dark
object about 75 yards away, and whispered
for Greg to hold up.
Whatever I was looking at was pitch
black, but it wasn't moving. As Greg and I
studied it, however, it moved, and I knew I
was looking at a bear.
I settled my scope's crosshairs and
squeezed the trigger. All was still, then I
suddenly caught movement to my right, and
saw the bear running. It stopped, and began
scanning the area, snout in the air, and my
shot hit home.
The bear, a 3-year-old female, weighed
an estimated 214 pounds. Even though we'd
cut our distance to the parking lot, we were
in for a physically demanding four-hour
drag. But I was sure glad we'd explored
Brown Trail.

33
W 3

HILE I'D LIVED in the Philadelphia
area for nearly a decade, working at
a school for troubled youths, I grew up in
Cameron County, near Emporium, and I
always try to make it back for deer season.
My friend Rodney joined me, and we
arrived at my parents' house on Friday
evening of the first week. With thoughts of
climbing those mountains again, I barely
slept Friday night. And the days that fol-

52

lowed would be memorable.
My father took an 8-point on Monday
and I shot a doe on Tuesday. There would be
meat in the family freezer. But Rodney still
was without a deer. And after Wednesday
passed uneventfully, we decided to give
things one more shot on Thursday, then head
home Friday morning.
We woke Thursday morning to 6 inches
of fresh snow on the ground, and I took
Rodney to the area where I'd shot the doe
on Tuesday, hoping he'd be able to fill a
tag, too. We walked in the trail together,
and I stopped at the first hollow and sent
him ahead to the second with plans to meet
on top.
I had a steep climb uphill, and the lightand-fluffy snow made things slippery at
times. But I paced myself, stopping every 20
steps or so to stop, look and listen. At the top
of the hollow, I took a seat under a hemlock
tree for about 20 minutes, then continued
up to the ridge. When I got there, I didn't
recognize it. It had been logged, and other
than the treetops remaining on the ground,
it essentially was wide open.
Scanning the unfamiliar landscape, looking for deer and a sense of direction, I saw a
trail faintly showing itself beneath the snow.
It gave me my bearings, but also told me I
was a little bit off from where I wanted to be.
The treetops made for a slow walk getting
back on course. And when I reached the
place I wanted to hunt, I took in a similarly
unfamiliar view, but one that allowed me
to see up to 300 yards in some directions.
I sat down and, before long, saw two
does moving cautiously toward me along
a tree line, about 100 yards out. I watched
them for about 10 minutes until they disappeared into the woods. Looking to my left, I
spotted more movement - a heavy-antlered
buck headed toward me.
I could see he was legal, and I leaned
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