It would be another four days before I would see the big blonde bear again. Where he had been in the meantime was anyone's guess. Yet when I saw him, he came from out of the same alder thicket as before. This time, however, he was on the move; bear walking as they say. Having spent the better part of three hours watching with him through the spotting scope four days before and again now, only made me want him that much more. I decided then and there, I would only shoot "that" bear. As I sat fixed in the spotting scope, I was reminded to what Jack O'Conner always use to say, "the big ones look big" and this guy was no exception. But then, as quickly as he had walked into my life, the "bear-walking bruin" disappeared in a cut of alders and was gone. Zip, nada, nothing. I was powerless to do anything. The bear of my dreams had vanished for the second time.
For the next several hours I held to the belief he would magically appear. The spot where I last saw him looked benign enough. Surely he would walk out into the open or so I thought. Then, a mile further to the right, but still on the same facing mountainside, I spotted another bear. I instantly recognized him for what he was; a big, solid 9 foot plus boar. He sported a rich deep dark chocolate coat; a massive body with huge buldging shoulders and thick arms, his ears were wide set on his head, topped off with excellent hair. The trophy of a hunting lifetime for anyone but me. But I had already made up my mind. I wanted the big blonde or nothing. I let the big chocolate go.
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