Blake Robinson Feeding on the manzanita berries about 340 yards downhill of us was a freaking huge bear. He looked like a grizzly bear. This was no California coastal black bear like you see in the parks, this was no avocado bear. This was a mountain bear - a heavy shouldered, hump-backed monster with blond highlights on his back that made him appear very much like the grizzlies who had disappeared from these mountains well over a hundred years ago.
I put the scope on the bear. I had been hunting with the scope magnification set on 4x - always a good idea for hunting - and the bear looked magnificent as he moved in and out of the brush feeding. He had no idea we were there. The wind was blowing at right angles between us, and we were too far away for him to hear us. In fact, we were too far away for me to shoot him! I am a pretty good shot out to 200 yards, shooting off a bench at the range. I am no sniper. I had rarely shot the 300 yd target at the range, and wasn’t impressed with myself when I did so. I had always maintained that my hunting range was going to be within 200 yds. I had told my guide that before, and he agreed that that was wise, but he also had countered the argument that too many people don’t trust their rifles, and that most missed shots were due to that. Especially shooting up or down hill. They always wanted to hold off the animal to adjust for range, and consequently they always missed.
I wound the scope up to 9x power and the bear zoomed in size to fill up about half the scope. He was amazing. After what felt like hours (probably only seconds), I saw the bear emerge and turn broadside - a perfect shot. Trusting my rifle, I put the crosshairs in the center of his shoulder.
“I got a perfect shot,” I whispered.
“Take it!” was the reply.
It was the best shot I have ever taken. Despite my heartrate, the scope was still on the bear, my body was rock solid, and I felt really good. I let out my half-breath, and started to slow-squeeze the trigger. The rifle boomed, and as the scope dropped back onto the bear after the recoil, I heard two things - the whap of bullet impact and a roar that still gives me goose bumps. The impact flipped the bear over in a cloud of dust, and he disappeared from view. Blake used:
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