Ranch Reviews!

Once In A Million!

ARCHERY, June, 1965, by LARRY JONES of Liberty, Utah

    The huge male polar bear came around the end of the pressure ridge and walked straight toward us—40 yards, 30 yards, 20 yards. The guide looked up at me and said, "There's your target! Shoot!" "I can't," I whispered. "I can't. I've got to wait." For a rifle hunter, the big bear could have been taken easily during the last 200 yards he had travelled, for he had been walking at a moderate gait and in a general direction toward us.
    Even though he was only 20 yards away, I definitely didn't want to shoot at him coming straight on. I don't think the bear heard us because we were whispering, and the wind was blowing a good 20 miles an hour from him to us. It seemed impossible to me, but all of a sudden he stopped and looked right up at me. He must have seen one of us move. Before I had time to ask myself what to do, the big fellow started walking, but angled a little to his left, and in five or six steps was full broad at only 40 feet. I brought the bow to full draw and . . .
    How does a fellow get into a spot like this? My profession is making hunting and fishing motion pictures, after which I travel around the U.S.A. and Canada and show fine films, hoping to make enough money so I can go on the next trip. My last picture was about bow and arrow hunting in Canada and Alaska. The film, "The Great Call of the Wild," took five years to put together, as I wanted myself and the animals taken to be in the same scene, where you actually could see the archer shoot, and actually see the animal being hit.
    There were several reasons for the picture. First of all, to bring to the screen world record animals (of which there were four) actually being taken with bow and arrow. To show people that big game such as Kodiak bear, moose, Rocky Mountain big horn, Dall sheep, etc., really could be taken quickly and cleanly with a bow and arrow.
    At this point, I should like to say that I definitely do not feel that in any way, shape or form I can consider myself an expert with a bow and arrow. Most of the kids in the neighborhood probably could out-shoot me hands down, but I do get lucky most of the time when I'm hunting, and I know what an arrow will do when put in the proper place. Most of the animals taken in the picture were one-shot kills, and the animals, moose and Kodiak included, did not go a full 100 yards before they became candidates for the trophy room. In other words, an arrow, like a bullet, is a very lethal weapon, but it still takes someone to point it in the right direction. Also, remember, most hunters agree the closer you are, the better.
    When we arrived in Kotzebue, Alaska, we went to the Eskimo Hotel to meet our guide, Ray Loesche. After a hearty hand-shake and the remark that we were one day early, we were informed that there had been no polar bear hunting for the past 17 days, due to bad weather. It had been bad either on the Alaskan side or out on the Chuckchi Sea, and no one from Kotzebue had taken a bear in this length of time.
    After two more days of bad weather—19 continuous days—there were 13 men who flew back to the lower 48 without even unpacking their rifles. There were two hunters in front of me, and after another two days of waiting, it finally cleared on both ends, and twelve bears were brought in that night. This put me up next, but four more days of walking the floor, listening to weather reports. Wednesday night, the 7th of April, Ray said the weather reports sounded fair for the next morning, and that we might be able to give it a try.
    About 3:30 Thursday morning we were awakened and told we were going after a bear. Breakfast at Art Fields Restaurant, and shortly after 5:00 we were taking off. Two planes: Pilot Bob King and Eskimo spotter Art Fields in the Super Cub; Ray Loesche, guide; Hugh Lyman, a friend of mine from Salt Lake City who was going to operate the cameras and later hunt with the rifle, and myself in Ray's Cessna 180.
    Flying at about 1000 feet, we first spotted a single seal in the first open bed. After another 45 minutes we saw a whale sounding in a large bed. The next two and a half hours were spent following a number of tracks we crossed, but only for short distances. Ray wanted to keep heading generally west, and if the tracks didn't prove fruitful in the first few minutes we left them and again turned west.
    Both planes were flying due west and leveled at about 600 feet. All of a sudden the cub in front of us banked sharply to the right and started down. Over the intercom in the 180 we heard Bob King say, "There's two bears on the ice in front of us." Ray swung the 180 in an easy turn to the right. We watched the Super Cub a few moments, and then all of a sudden I saw the bear on the ice. I won't take time to explain my feelings. Ray looked them over as we passed and said, "That's the one we want. We're going down." The one bear was twice the size of the other, and I assumed the smaller bear to be a female. We flew ahead of the bear for perhaps half a mile and landed on the first smooth ice in sight.
    The plane had not yet stopped when Ray opened his door and said, "If you want that bear, don't just sit there—come on." He was out on the ice and running toward a pressure ridge several hundred feet away. My bow, a 61 pounder at 30-inch draw, had been strung before we started, and there were six razor-sharp Pinecrest broadheads in the bow quiver. I opened the other door and peeled out. Ray, a good ten yards ahead, was looking back over his shoulder as he ran and was swinging that right arm, which meant get the lead out and come on.
    The bitter Arctic air which I first sucked into my lungs as I ran made me feel as though I had a blow torch turned on inside. I looked back and Hugh was struggling with the cameras and running toward us as fast as he could with the two cameras mounted on a special bar on the single tripod.
    Ray carefully climbed the blocks of ice and looked over. I started up the ice cubes, but before I could get to the top he was on his way back down. He yelled as he slid down past me that the bear had turned and was going the other way, and we had another foot race back to the plane.
    Hugh was still trying to get the cameras in the plane when Ray kicked over the engine. He gave Hugh a quick, hard look, the door was slammed shut, and the plane was moving when we snapped the safety belts in place. As the plane became airborne, I quickly thought about the stories I had read about polar bear and bows and arrows. Fred Bear had tried several times to take the big whites and had been unsuccessful. Others, too, had failed to bag a polar with bow and arrow. A lot of other things went through my mind, but most vividly I remember seeing the big bear again. He was only a few hundred feet to our left as we passed him. Another half-mile or so and down on the ice again. The plane doors flew open, and this time Ray and I were shoulder to shoulder as we raced toward a pressure ridge in below zero weather.
    When we got close to the ridge, I let Ray get in front. We were almost there when I stepped in a snow-covered hole and went sprawling on my face. I was back on my feet in an instant, my lungs again feeling like hot stove pipes. But Ray had reached the ridge and was looking over the top. He looked at me as I came up and said, "He's coming this way. Stay close to the top of the ridge. Get set and don't move too much."
    I looked over the top, and a little over 200 yards away, walking around and through the broken ice, was the big bear heading our way. I looked back, and Hugh was setting up the cameras. He started one camera. It ran five feet of film and stopped. The second camera was run with 30-volt batteries. The bear was out of sight, so Hugh figured to try some footage on Ray and me. He ran about 20 feet. It worked okay. He figured to use the rest of the film where—and if—-the bear came into view.
    The huge male polar bear came around the end of the pressure ridge and walked straight toward us—40 yards, 30 yards—I brought the bow to full draw and let fly. The right leg had just gone forward when the shaft hit. The big bear reared slightly in his forward motion, both front feet coming off the ground.

Hunt with former Denver Broncos All-Pro RULON JONES
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