StarDestroyer.Net BBS

LongVin wrote:I know if you're hunting in Alaska in bear country you ALWAYS carry a high calibre sidearm with you get knocked down and cant use your rifle during a beer attack.

They weren't hunting bear. (Or beer. ) They just happened to be in bear country, on a fishing trip. Even without catching anything they had to be concerned about bears coming into camp looking for food, both human food and food humans. If you catch my drift.

And they also had sidearms with them in addition to the shotguns. 357 magnums if I remember right.

LongVin wrote:

RedImperator wrote:

LongVin wrote:I know if you're hunting in Alaska in bear country you ALWAYS carry a high calibre sidearm with you get knocked down and cant use your rifle during a beer attack.

Why would I want to protect myself from a beer attack? Where in Alaska is this wonderful place where beer seeks you instead of the other way around?

Well from what I heard(from people who hunted in Alaska) if you are cutting up the animal you just killed and decide to bring the meat back with you the bears are attracted by the smell of the fresh carcass and may attack you along the trail.

So you are always supposed to carry your rifle and the sidearm just in case.

<--joke


(empty air)



<----your head

RedImperator wrote:

LongVin wrote:I know if you're hunting in Alaska in bear country you ALWAYS carry a high calibre sidearm with you get knocked down and cant use your rifle during a beer attack.

Why would I want to protect myself from a beer attack? Where in Alaska is this wonderful place where beer seeks you instead of the other way around?

In Soviet Alaska, beer seek you!

(Anyone is welcome to improve on the funniness of this.

Yes, I just made up the word funniness.)

I had a close encounter with a bear - probably a black - when I was camping near Banff one summer. Being young and foolish, I had some bananas in my tent. While tripping on shrooms, I calmly watched as a set of lethal claws tore through the side of the tent and extracted the fruit.

I wasn't so calm the next morning as I surveyed the very neat gash in the tent.

In WV, there's been very few black bear attacks. Now, that's not to say they've not happened. Usually it's a female bear attacking someone who may or may not even have seen the cubs the bear was protecting.

Now, I've got a couple good bear stories myself, happened to family friends. One bear was getting into the trash bins of a local restaurant. "Mama Lopez", the owner, called the game wardens and my father in to get rid of him. They caught the bear, bagged, tagged, moved him to another part of the state... but with a couple months he was back robbing the trash again. My dad swore it was cause Mama Lopez's cooking was that good. I think she swatted him for the joke, too. They had to move that bear three times in all before they managed to get him too lost to find his way back.

The second story involves Ben, a St. Bernard of epic proportions. Ben belonged to Bill, one of the fire tower tenders in the 70-80s, before they were all shut down. Ben was so large a 10yr old could ride him without their feet dragging, and so gentle he'd *let* a 10yr old ride him without complaint. So Ben and Bill were up on top of the moutain one fire season, sleeping in the cabin built for that purpose when a bear started snuffling and digging at the door. Ben stalked over to the door and growled, and a door shoving match started. Finally the bear moved off.. but by then Bill really really needed to go to the bathroom. Which meant going outside to the outhouse, ten yards from the door. After waiting as long as he could without hearing the bear, Bill opened the door and let Ben go first. He got to the outhouse, did his business, and then hear the most gadawful racket start up outside. Ben had found the bear, or it'd found him. They'd squared off, just outside the outhouse, and were snarling and growling and rolling and hitting the side of the outhouse hard enough that Bill was sure it would fall over on top of him. Then the fight rolled the other way... which was a not-so-gentle slope down the mountain. Bill got out, ran to the cabin ... and up the ridge came Ben, his fur all ruffled, still growling softly, but not a mark on him otherwise, claw or fang. No bear ever came that close to the cabin again.

LongVin wrote:

Elfdart wrote:Aside from the urban myth of a guy checking to see how much gasoline is in his car by opening the gas cap and striking a match, this is about the stupidest way to die I can think of.

You know there probably is someone out there who actually tried that.

That might be true, but the story started in a Three Stooges skit when Curley wanted to check the gas in his car. Of course a lot of people out there are dumber than Larry and Moe, so you may be right.

Alyeska wrote:Black Bears. Smallest, mostly black colored, but also brown or white. Most ill-tempered and kill humans more then any other bear. Most common, and these little fuckers can climb trees nicely.

Shall I assume Wikipedia to be fake in (as of this writing) in recommending kicking an attacking black bear's "ass" in hopes of getting it to run off after a good bop on the nose? (It does not recommend running off or climbing trees, pointing out what you said here re: the latter.)