The book Learning To Talk Bear is the best book I have ever read and prepared me for my first grizzly sighting / email from Susan Bearer

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Tip o' the Day

Ever out in the big lonesome and discovered your watch quit God knows how many hours ago and you need to know how much time left until sundown? Line one hand between sun and horizon (arm outstretched, fingers together at right angle to the arm); each finger is approximately 15 minutes.

How about direction when you're without a compass and it's a dank, overcast day? Forget that old wives' tale about moss growing heavier on the north side of trees. Moss grows slowly in the high country at our latitude and you don't have time to wait for it to grow. Try this instead:

Spread a white cloth (handkerchief, T-shirt, longhandle underwear (if it's still white) flat upon the ground. Hold a slender stick vertically, moving it around the perimeter of the cloth. A suggestion of a shadow can be determined when the stick is between sun and cloth, even when the sun cannot be otherwise located. Now point the hour-hand of your watch at the sun. Halway betweeen the hour hand and 12 0'clock is due south. (Note: use standard time. Note: those with digital watches will have to fake it.)

What happens when you've discovered south and how much time until sundown, but still don't know which direction to camp, nor how long it'll take to get there?

"Stop early enough to gather firewood for the night," survival books say, and it's good advice. Most of 'em don't tell you how much to gather, however. So lay in more than you'll need . . . then double the supply. Having slept out many nights using chaps for pajamas, backed against a rock wall or boulder to reflect heat, drowsily fighting sparks from my new wool coat, I qualify as an expert. And I say night is always darkest just before dawn. It's also coldest. Ironically, it's also when you'll fun out of fire if you shorted your wood supply the night before.

Of course if a man straddles a good horse there's no logical reason to gather a big supply of firewood and spend the night in the fearsome lonesome unless he wishes to do so. Give a veteran horse his head and you'll eat supper in camp. Confuse him and you might wind up as hungr as an Ethopian famine survivor.

I once followed my pony down a perilous trail in an inky night. I did so by tying the halter rope to his bridle reins, then walking behind with one hand loose-holding the rope and the other holding his tail. I figured to let both go if he disappeared into the chasm below. He never even stumbled.

In fact, if anything, he seemed put out that I never crawled into the saddle and let him hurry home.

I am sitting here with tears pouring down my cheeks in great appreciation for what you have written about my father in law. I am the mother of "his" triplet grandchildren . . . It is hard for me to explain what a BIG loss it has been because it is hard to explain to people what a great person he truly was / email from Jennifer West

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FINDING WOUNDED GAME

Experienced hunters know a misplaced bullet far back in an animal's abdominal region is usually mortal, but hardly impedes the creature's immediate mobility. Death is lingering for the wounded one, however, and no hunter worth his salt will abandon the search for such a wounded animal until every avenue is exhausted.

My occupation as a hunting guide led me into such searches a few times during my career. After awhile I began recognizing certain traits in sorely wounded animals that aided us in their recovery.

One, of course, is their inclination to lie down not too far from where they're wounded. The site they'll choose will always afford them an excellent view of their backtrail, and also offer excellent escape cover near to hand. Given that the wounded animal has both the ability and an inclination for further flight, experienced hunters know it's not wise to begin pursuit until enough time has elapsed so the quarry grows stiff and thus unwilling to flee when approached. The catch-22 is how much time should elapse between wounding and follow-up?

In my experience, most hunters are too impatient; especially when pursuing an animal with the vitality of an elk. A half-day is not too long.

But is such a wait unnecessarily cruel?

Not if you pursue so soon your quarry is able to leap to his feet and dash away. It's during that second dash that I've known wounded animals to keep plodding for hours -- and that's precisely when most trackers lose their trail.

Another tactic utilized by a seriously wounded animal is to climb to the top of a knoll where they can watch in every direction. Wary but unwounded elk will usually bed down upon a sidehill to watch their back trail. But wounded animals always seem to prefer the very top -- perhaps so they'll have downhill momentum in any direction if further flight is called for.

It was on opening da of hunting season, some years ago. I was part of a team of guides working a "drive"; moving through forested "broken" country, thick with windfalls and dense brush. I clambered to the top of a little founded knowl and found the reamins of an elk. To my experienced eyes, the place where the animal died spelled "gutshot", but that coudn't be. Remember it was the first day of hunting season (always Sept. 15 in most of the Bob Marshall Wilderness) and this elk was so decomposed and picked over by scavengers as to have been dead for a couple of weeks. Couple that fact with the location -- one of most remote places in one of America's largest Wildernesses -- death from poaching was inconceivable.

I looked for other telltale clues for cause of death. None. No sign that this beg-footed animal had battled another bull here; no torn and ripped soil, no battered sapling or brush. No, this elk came here to die. I started on with my drive. A few feet down from the knoll's summit I found the answer: here was where coyotes had dragged the skull and antlers.

Or should I say antler?

There was only one. The bull's left side was a massive beam with six well-honed, dagger-like points. The right side was merely a short stub, the break fresh. The bull had lost the antler in a titanic struggle at some distant place. Thus unprotected on that side, yet still enraged with the heat of battle, he'd soldiered on until he'd one of his opponents knife-like antler tips had penetrated the hide of his flank to gut-gore him. Or perhaps the goring occurred from the same thundering impact that shattered his antler.

Whatever, wherever, however, whenever it occurred, the magnificent but beaten gladiator had retreated to this classic spot to die.

Do you wonder about the size and heft of his competitor?

Me, too.

Roland Cheek wrote a syndicated outdoors column (Wild Trails and Tall Tales) for 21 years. The column was carried in 17 daily and weekly newspapers in two states. In addition, he scripted and broadcast a daily radio show (Trails to Outdoor Adventure) that aired on 75 stations from the Atlantic seaboard to the Pacific Ocean. He's also written upwards of 200 magazine articles and 12 fiction and nonfiction books. For more on Roland, visit:

www.rolandcheek.com

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