From the Archives, Part IV: The Finale November 24,1963

Sunday Morning (continued)-The Finale

Hemingway said "the sun also rises".  But not in a Wisconsin swamp.  The clock says so, but the ground fog and overcast denies penetration of its promised light. I proceeded hand over hand along the north/south fence line, that is until I came to an old Cottonwood tree.

Normally an old tree would not be an obstacle, except when it grows tired of standing and decides to lie down across the fence line.  A straight ahead course is impossible, and to circumvent a 100 foot long tree in this swamp would be a very time consuming detour

 But just as I am studying my alternatives, the old feeling returns-this  time accompanied by movement directly ahead of me and just on the opposite side of our fallen Cottonwood.  It appears taller than myself and heavier, but not identifiable through the branches of the fallen tree and, thus, an invalid target.  We, thus, are in checkmate, I watching him, and he watching me.....neither one identifiable by the other and both frozen in our positions.

As it is destined to do, the sun proceeded to burn its way through the darkness and, in a matter of minutes, vague dawn light started to penetrate the black of the swamp.  My mysterious company began to materialize before my eyes, and I could see two large round ears on top of the large dark shadow.

Fifty years ago the Wisconsin black bear season was simultaneous with the whitetail deer season.  During the 1963 season a total of 553 black bears were harvested in the entire State.  By far, the majority were taken in far northern areas, as the bear population had not migrated so far to the southern areas of the State as to be considered frequent.

With over half a million hunters registered, the odds of an encounter were about a thousand to one, so I consider myself one of the lucky ones.  Both to have harvested a prize...... and that it wasn't really the Abominable Snowman..

PS:  It would be remiss not to recognize the efforts of the real heros of the hunt. Those       faithful companions who ended up helping me drag said quarry out of the swamp. Thanks guys.

PS2: The red of the boots has mellowed, as do all things after 50 or so years...but one of the many events over the past fifty years that has never mellowed was the senseless taking of the life of the 35th President of the United States.