J. Shane Townsend

J. Shane Townsend writes about people and nature.

Today

J. Shane Townsend

Where are the bear facts on grizzlies?

Grizzly hunting – banned in the lower states since 1975 when the bear was added to the federal endangered species list – may soon make a return. US Interior Secretary Doug Burgum has announced a proposal to allow states to manage their own stocks if numbers have recovered. Judging by recent headlines, it certainly seems as if the numbers are back up. A grizzly recently attacked two brothers in Yellowstone National Park, a hiker was likely killed by a grizzly on Mount Brown Trail in Glacier National Park and a grizzly charged a man and fractured his arm in Glacier National Park. Black bears are getting in on the action too. Warnings were issued on the Appalachian Trail over aggressive black bears chasing and biting hikers in May.

Grizzly

Friday

J. Shane Townsend

The killer in your backyard

A perch some 20 feet up a backyard tree offers a peek into every manner of activity in the neighborhood. One guy in a uniform sets down his running leaf-blower, backs into a bush, squats and relieves himself. Another guy wearing pastel and khaki rides tight circles on his mower; his facial contortions suggest he’s singing his ass off. A woman washes dishes at her kitchen sink. A man grills on his deck and searches for me in the treeline. This is urban hunting. And it sucks. All the way around. But here’s the truth: it’s necessary – for hunters, for homeowners, for the community and our economy. New York City infamously invested $6 million in taxpayer funds to give bucks vasectomies As a hunter, the suck starts when you pull into a stranger’s driveway.

hunting killing

Tuesday

J. Shane Townsend

Confessions of a bear hunter

Southwest Virginia, October. Gravel groaned under my creek-numbed feet. I looked up at a mountain laid out like a fist and I climbed toward the most violent knuckle. But before I got there, the world turned on its side. I don’t know for sure why I collapsed. Maybe it was food poisoning, maybe a heart attack. I felt my face resting on cold stone and gripped the dark walnut of my rifle stock as I passed out. Eleven hours later, a new day started. A distant pickup truck with glass-pack mufflers fired up, then idled in a deep rumble. I stood – before the sun came up – and did squats for warmth, surprised I felt as good as I did, but I had a decision to make: walk off the mountain or hunt my way out. May as well hunt.

bear

Saturday

J. Shane Townsend

I tensed my bow as the bull elk stared at me

Some 500 lbs of testosterone and pissed-off muscle and bone busted through the fog and the aspens. I drew my bow. The beast stopped broadside not twenty yards away. Perfect. I moved to settle my sights. There was his head and his rump. But a copse of three aspens covered everything vital. Not perfect. The bull stared at me. And I begged and willed and made unholy promises to God almighty if that bull would just take one fecking step forward. This was the first daybreak on a five-day guided public land archery hunt. Before this moment, I had been on two elk hunts. Each a weeklong. Each do-it-yourself. Each elkless. And neither had taught me a thing about how to hunt elk. A Western elk hunt costs us what we have: time and money. And, I had just about determined it wasn’t worth either.

Bow hunting