Mad bear at mid-day

Gett'n back to that other bear story ... check'n my records it was not Admiralty this wild scare took place but near Sitka, Chichagof Island.

To set this here thing up right, we'll look at timber cutters' handles up and down the coast. In California they're "choppers." On the Oregon-Washington coast they're "timber fallers." And in Alaska they're "bushlers" cause we worked mostly by the thousand board feet - tak'n the name from farm workers that worked by the bushel.

Anyway, with that out of the way, logg'n camps, like Afognack where I got this story, were segregated - bushlers in one end of the big bunkhouse and truck drivers, yarder engineers and loader operators in the other end. Choker setters and hook tenders had their own bunkhouses.

Bushlers weren't liked all that much cause we worked six hours, had our own crummy (beat up small bus) and the rest of the crew had to work eight.

Now this one bushler worked his six and was ready to head for the barn when lo and behold big, bad bear shows up. Kinda circled around him, hissed and glare'n with them little beady eyes. Couldn't figure out what upset the beast.

Maybe it was a radical environmental bear that hated loggers?

Well sir, bruin made a charge and the ol' boy fired up his saw, made advances qunn'n the motor which caused mad bear to retreat a bit. So the bushler started fer the road.

Every time bear made a charge, the ol' boy would gun 'er. This went on fer a long ways and the bushler got to think'n, wonder'n when did he gas up last? He could hear the talk-e-tooter blast up at the landing and could see the tower. Be'n a clear-cut, the bushler stood out like a sore thumb.

He kept mad bear at bay reave'n the saw. At the tower, the yarder engineer all of the sudden seen this crazy bushler be'n followed by a huge bear. The ol' boy's face was as white as a waxed mannequin. Well he had the rifle there in the cab. Should he shoot the beast or let the crazy bushler sweat it out for a little bit more? Na, he better shoot the bear. So he did.

The bushler that night in camp told everyone he never thought he'd be glad to get help from the end of the bunkhouse.