Looking for bears

(Continued from this post)

We both woke up and looked at each other.

A loud thud somewhere outside had jolted us out of dreamland. The night was still pitch black, but Nate got up to check the front door to see if he could see anything.

A chair was propped up against the door that didn't lock, not for fear of someone stumbling across camp but more for precaution in case a hungry bear smelled something delicious inside so we could hear the chair and grab the shotgun.

We both went back to sleep.

The next morning though, we continued wondering what we had heard.

"Did a branch fall on top of the cabin? It was windy last night."

"I went outside and didn't see any big branches down."

Nate went out to explore the area again and came back with an announcement: There were claw scratches on the cabin.

Now, we had read in the cabin journal that people had heard a bear clawing at the cabin and found scratches on the back and front the next morning. We circled the cabin and found where that journal mentioned, and saw the grayed/weathered scratch marks.

The scratch marks by our bedroom, however, were still raw wood and fresh.

"I don't know if it was last night or some other recent time, but there's definitely a bear around."

We really wanted to see a bear, or a moose, or the mountain lion that had been spotted in the area. So far, though, we hadn't seen anything except for some sandhill cranes, gulls, a bald eagle, loons, diving ducks, kingbirds and a crazy rusty-looking finch.

So we decided to explore a bit.

We attempted to canoe back into a waterway, but we were told on Tuesday that the lake was about 2 feet lower than usual, so we got stuck on a tree only a few feet in.

"Why don't we try that trail?" I suggested.

On one beach, we could see some sort of trail. Nate had read that a logging road was nearby, and we read in a journal entry from 2012 that fishermen showed up at the lake while a couple was staying there. We assume that the trail was an old road.

It must have been a very old road, because the trail disappeared quite quickly, although there were some beer cans strewn about and remnants of a fire having been put out. We thought perhaps someone had hunted the area.

We followed the trail and crawled through some brush and overgrown grass, taking precautions to look behind us about every 10 feet or so to make sure that a mountain lion or other animal wasn't stalking behind us.

When we walked into an open area, filled with blooming purple and yellow flowers, I thought "This is exactly where bears like to hang out." You'd think I'd think, "Wow, gorgeous," and I did, but bears were definitely on the mind.

A few more feet and the trees crowded around once more, and we looked down at one muddy spot to see a hoof print. It had to have been eight inches across. I had thought I'd heard a moose the other night grunt from across the lake, and now we knew there was definitely a moose in the area. The intermittent rains throughout the week had softened the ground enough to show several moose prints as we walked along.

We got to a spot where the Joe pye weed bloomed magenta but grew over our heads, and we turned back.

Almost to where we started, Nate began to slow down.

"I'm really curious where this ends."

"We can keep going if you want."

"We'll go another 50 feet and see if it clears."

We turned around again, and about 25 yards later, I saw something else.

"Bear track."

A big paw with claws had left an imprint in the mud near where we had originally seen the moose track.

We kept an eye around us.

When we got back to the Joe pye weed, we pushed through a few feet, and Nate stopped.

"Should we keep going?"

"Is it wise to continue going through stuff where we don't know what's right in front of us?"

"No. Let's go back."

We walked about 10 yards.

"I forget sometimes that my first job is to take care of my lovely," Nate said.

"I never want to hold you back babe."

We went back to our canoe and followed the shoreline, questioning some of the trees that had been cut down and trying to figure out why. We even tried going up another waterway in the canoe but again got stuck pretty quickly and pushed ourselves back out.

Instead of heading back to shore, we dug into the barbecue rib MRE we had packed and enjoyed it on the water before a storm rolled in.

It cleared up quickly, like usual, and we showered that afternoon and enjoyed some time of the dock before dinner of wild rice and walleye soup.

Walleye wild rice soup
4 walleye filets
1 cup wild rice or wild rice blend
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 stalk celery, chopped
1/2 yellow onion, chopped
4 Tbsp. butter
1/4 cup flour
2 cups milk
4 cups chicken stock/broth
Salt and pepper, to taste

In a stockpot, melt the butter and saute onion, carrot and celery. Season with salt and pepper. After about five minutes, stir in flour to make a roux. Slowly add milk and stir until milk thickens. Add chicken broth slowly and continue to stir to incorporate.

Add walleye filets and wild rice. Walleye will cook and fall apart as the rice cooks.

Continue to simmer until wild rice is cooked through, about 20-30 minutes. Stir occasionally to keep rice from sticking to the bottom of the pot. Continue to season with salt and pepper as needed.

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