Summer, 1991, 2 Black Bears and a .357

Alan Yates with rifles, pistols and bear rugs.

In the summer of 1991, Alan Yates was working in the forested mountains near Bozeman, Montana. He was charged by two black bears at the same time. He successfully defended himself against the bears with two shots fired from his .357 magnum Smith & Wesson 65 revolver. He was 21 years old.

Here are Alan’s words, lightly edited for space and clarity:

In the summer of 1991 I worked on a logging operation in the mountains of Montana.

There was a large bear that lived in the hills and mountains around our community. He was very aggressive. His favorite mode of attack was to charge riders on their horses. Invariably, the rider would get thrown from the spooked horse, the horse would run off, and the bear would stand around for a minute or two thumping up and down on his front paws as if gloating. Then he’d run off.

There was no love for this bear. There was, quietly, a bounty on him. Because of his sheer size, and seeming youthful bad attitude, it was widely hypothesized that he was a Black Bear/Grizzly mix.

Seeing bears was a regular occurance and didn’t bother me.

One morning in the early fall, I was trimming branches off the tops of cut down trees with a large knife that I had made. It was quiet work, and I was further up the mountain side than the other workers. Suddenly I heard an all-to-familiar sound … “woof, woof, woof … ” quickly getting louder and closer. I knew what it meant. I dropped the knife, grabbed my 357 magnum, while spinning towards the sound.

Up the mountain ridge came a rolling ball of massive muscle and fur. He was  medium brown in color, with a dark chocolate face and neck. I immediately recognized him from the descriptions I’d heard. He was the problem bear everyone hated.

I cocked my revolver and timed his head roll. When he was “close enough” (8 or 10 yards) and his head rolled up, I dropped the hammer. My custom hand loaded bullet hit him square in the chest and I saw the fur fly from the impact. He staggered slightly, turning about 30 degrees to his left and continued  his charge up and over the next (nearby) ridge and out of sight.

I watched him go out of the corner of my eye, because when he turned off his  direct path towards me, a new problem showed herself. Not 20 yards behind him was a 2nd bear. She was a beautiful black phase with a large white “V” on her chest. She was much smaller – probably a 4-5 year old  bear. She continued her charge full steam at me.

I recocked my revolver and at the instant her head rose – on her next to last jump – I dropped the hammer again. I watched the bullet strike her 1″ to the right if the bottom of the white V on her chest.

The bullet impact, combined with her upward lunge, flipped her completely over backwards and she landed on her back – her head downhill. She rolled over, jumped up and hobbled back down the ridge.

I spun around looking to see if the other bear was still a threat, but he was  nowhere to be found. Then I ran down the mountain after her. I assumed  that she wouldn’t go far. I was wrong.

She went straight down the ridge a few hundred yards where she slid off the steep bank and onto the logging road – where the rest of our crew were working. She passed right thru the middle of them, over the bank and continued downhill. When I jumped down from the bank, I yelled “Did you see a bear?”. They pointed and said “she’s right there”. We could see  her intermittently. She turned down into the draw and headed up the next  ridge in the open, crossing it at right angles. She was moving slowly.

I ran to camp, grabbed my rifle (my old 303 British), and gave chase. I tracked  her along the side of the mountain, up, down, over and under, for the  next 1.5 miles. I lost her trail when she entered a large “blow-down”. I circled the entire blowdown searching for her track. I couldn’t find it. (Lodge-pole pine blow-downs can kill you when the logs shift suddenly, so I knew better than to go in there).

Returning to camp, I updated everyone and we “loaded up” to go track down the big boar. We were not able to hold his trail for very long. After cresting  the next ridge, he had slowed to a walk in dense timber and his track was soon lost.

I spent the next few weeks worried about the possibility of having 2 wounded bears near our camp. But no trouble came.

Soon enough, the snow flew, logging was shut down for the season, and I was free to go hunting. I quickly found myself hunting Elk on the same  mountain. I had come in from a different direction. As I crested a ridge, I heard Magpies (a bird) calling from down in the draw below me. Magpies, in the mountains, generally mean something is dead. As I worked my way down the slope and began up the next, I discovered that I was back at the same blowdown where I’d lost bear’s trail. 

The Magpies were dancing and calling near the lower edge of the blowdown. I eased very carefully in the short distance, and there she was. She was quite decomposed, but she was all bear, and I could still see the large white V on her chest. I was thankful to find her dead.

The large aggressive boar was never seen again – so I assume him dead also.

I have no idea why those 2 bears charged me. The most likely theory is that the boar heard me and liked to charge. She was just tagging along.

Alan switched from a .357 magnum to a .44 magnum. He has hunted the high mountain country of Montana for 35 years.

 ©2024 by Dean Weingarten: Permission to share is granted when this notice and link are included.

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