The Story of a Terrific Bear Dog named "Chuck"

You may think you're reading a hunting story but make no mistake, this story is about Charles a.k.a. Chuck. A bear dog. All joking aside, chasing bears with hounds is as much about the dogs as it is about hunting, and a good pack of dogs can make or break your hunt. Chuck, or Charles as we called him due to his majestic attitude, is one of the grittiest dogs I have ever met on a chase.

A MISUNDERSTOOD PURSUIT

To many, chasing game species, especially predators, with dogs is considered unfair or cheating. The pursuit is one of the most attacked by anti-hunting organizations. What’s more, and what’s worse, many hunters demonize those who take up the pursuit because they think the only way to ethically take an animal is by spotting then stalking. Many of the people who make these assertions have no true understanding of the sport, have never been on a hound chase and purely make an emotional decision based off what they see on social media or other news sources.

Running bears with hounds, along with baiting, is one of the best ways to ensure you are taking an animal that is mature and legal. It seems logical that everyone should hunt with hounds with that knowledge, right? Unfortunately, many people don’t see it that way and only see it as a way to “cheat” and make your hunt easier. I have a lot of experience running hounds, and I can assure everyone that it is far from easy. I’d much prefer to sit on a mountainside with some snacks and glass a far-off meadow waiting for a boar to make an appearance. Trust me, that is a much more leisurely approach.

The use of hounds will only prove to take you to some of the most remote places in the mountains. Bears will run dogs into the ground as they are incredible endurance athletes. It puts you in close to an apex predator with nothing but your skill and grit to ensure hunter and hound don’t get injured. It will test your stamina because—unless you have extensive road systems—wherever the dogs run, you’ll be going as well. So, lace up the boots and get to hiking. Once the hounds are dropped on a track, there’s no turning back, you go wherever you need to get your dogs back.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a possibility that the bear will tree or bay up quickly. But does that mean we are cheating? I’d say no. I’ve had plenty of friends kill bears five minutes from the truck on a spot-and-stalk hunt. If we’re being honest, luck plays a big part in hunting, and sometimes, you just get lucky.

THE DOG BOX

Last spring, I joined a group of friends at Table Mountain Outfitters for a week of chasing bears through the rugged mountains of central Idaho. The lodge, the team and the dogs made an excellent first impression. I couldn’t wait to listen to baying hounds on a track.

Back home in Montana, I chase lions as much as I can and try reach as many trees as I can throughout the season. Until just last year, the state only allowed the pursuit of mountain lions with hounds, so I jumped on the chance to go chase bears behind dogs in Idaho. I was paired with Keedin Denny, the up-and-coming son of TMO owners Scott and Angie Denny, who knew the area like the back of his hand and loved his dogs like a father loves his children.

The first morning, I hopped in a rugged Toyota Tacoma that was rigged perfectly to hold dogs—it even had a specialized hood layered with carpet and fitted with chains to have the strike dogs ride up top while working through the backcountry roads of the area. This was Chuck’s throne, he loved being up there and even though he was young, he held his position with extreme prowess. He stood strong next to a small female, Cash—one of the veterans of the group—who was just as sweet as she was pretty.

Kennels, crates and specialized boxes are all used to transport sporting dogs afield, but hounds are usually carried differently than retrievers, pointers and flushers. Houndsmen use a lot of dogs and thus require a system that allows them to transport them comfortably and safely.

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The Dennys are old veterans and customized the beds of their Tacomas to be a hold-all system for hounds and gear. They topped the beds with RSI SmartCaps and had custom gullwing doors made that have a window to help control temperature and airflow in the bed. Below that they built a custom wood deck that has a panel with a door to easily take dogs in and out. Below the deck and between the wheel wells are storage drawers that hold all the tools and dog supplies that one could think necessary on an excursion into the mountains. It was one of the slickest systems I’ve seen employed by houndsmen.

RUNNING ROADS

The Tacoma is a perfect rig for the houndsman, the short wheelbase and unapparelled off-road capabilities of the rig allow access deep into the remote logging roads—I use the term “road” loosely—of Idaho. We spent a lot of time coursing the roads waiting for the dogs to catch bear scent. We had a few strikes the first morning and listening to eruption from the dogs will make your blood pressure spike out of excitement.

Unfortunately, the strikes were false that day, and we didn’t get to see the dogs in action on bear. We let them out a few times and watched as they tried to suss out an old track, but to no avail. Around 11 a.m., we called it quits and headed back to the lodge. Why so early? Many races are an all-day pursuit and letting the dogs go on a track later in the day could be potentially dangerous for both hunters and dogs. As mentioned earlier, bears can run for miles and miles, and those dogs won’t quit. If night falls and dogs are still on a chase it leaves them vulnerable to wolf attacks, getting lost or ending up in treacherous terrain for the night. Experienced hound hunters try to mitigate all risks and run only when safety can be guaranteed. Well, as guaranteed as a bear chase could be.

The afternoons found us sitting over baits waiting for a hungry bruin to make an appearance. That first day was a slow one for me, but good friend and Petersen’s HUNTING contributor Jace Bauserman, found some luck when he killed a beautiful bear over his bait just down the canyon from where I was sitting. Though we were all excited and wanted to celebrate the success, we called it quits early that night to be ready to chase hounds the next morning.

DUMP THE BOX

When houndsmen let the dogs go, they use the term “dump the box” and those three words ignite an excitement that is un-rivalled in all other pursuits. You haven’t lived until you see a pack of dogs leap from a truck at full tilt, baying in excitement. Our second morning, Keedin, Bauserman and I were in the Tacoma, with Shawn Skipper from Leupold following in the chase truck. We had a strong track off a running bait and Chuck started the track with authority. It wasn’t long before we swung up the gullwing door of the Tacoma’s topper, dumping the entire box of dogs on the race.

As the race progressed, we watched on the Garmin as the dog’s collars transmitted locations. The bear wasn’t slowing up. We could tell on the GPS that he would turn and face off with the dogs because some of the shy dogs would jump away from the fight and run at a safe distance of the bear. It was also clear Chuck never shied away. After a couple of hours of chasing dogs chasing a bear, we knew the boar wasn’t going to tree and we would have to get a shot on the ground—and we’d need to do it quick to ensure the safety of the dogs.

We were running across the terrain trying to find open roads that put us in front of the race to cut off the bear and get a shot. The bear bayed up for a moment and gave us a chance to get in close. Up close with the chocolate boar, I raised the Browning X-Bolt Speed and looked through the Leupold VX-3 2.5-8. I had a clear shot on the bear, but with dogs bouncing around, I hesitated, and the chase continued. “Coming at you!” yelled Keedin.

Our next encounter with the bear was incredibly close. In front of the race again, we ran down to where the dogs had the bear bayed. The hillside was thick, and we could see movement in the brush. The bear came running out right passed me. I jumped to the side with the rifle shouldered, but again, no shot with the dogs running around. He ran right passed Skipper, who also had no shot. The race was on again. The race was leading across the road systems, and we tried to get in front of them hoping for a running shot at the bear when the dogs were clear. We cut in front of them and ran into position, I threw the rifle up when Keedin yelled “Shoot!” I pulled the trigger a second too late as the bear spun. The bullet made impact but hit the bear in the leg as he turned. Now we had an aggressive bear that was wounded and on the ground. Now more than ever, was it important to finish the bear off before dogs or a hunter were injured.

We got back on the trail and ran after the bear who was now turning to fight rather than run away from his pursuers. When we got close to the tree where it bayed up, he ran straight downhill at Bauserman who slapped at his hip wishing that his sidearm—normally holstered there—was in tow. No shot again, but luckily the bear turned on the sidehill with the dogs close on his heels. We took off on the chase. Keedin grabbed dogs trying to keep the situation from getting worse. I ran in close, and as the bear swiped at me, I pushed the gun down over its vitals and pulled the trigger. In an instant, the commotion was over. The bear laid dead at my feet and right beside me was Chuck—who hadn’t shied away from the race the entire time, even when the aggressive boar turned to fight. No dogs were injured and one of the most exciting days of my life had just come to an end.

HIGH SPEED

Though I had just completed one of the most exhilarating hunts of my life, the rest of week did not leave me wanting. Rather than stay behind, I opted to go on the hunts with other companions at the lodge. One day we put the capabilities of the Tacoma to the test. We started off on a track in the same area where we ran my bear. It seemed like a routine chase, but as we were watching the GPS, the bear took a turn and took a straight-line path to the top of the mountain, not slowing the entire way.

With minimal roads, we started picking our way around the mountain to hopefully get in front of the race. But the bear had different plans. He went down the other side of the mountain and still wasn’t slowing. Now we were miles away from the dogs, with only a hope that the bear would tree or bay up. Our path was blocked many times by downed trees that we threw off the trail or employed the help of a chainsaw to clear the way. As the bear and dogs approached the river in the valley below, we figured he would stop, but he crossed and headed for the highway—a main travel route in that part of the state that is thick with traffic. At this point it became a rescue mission for the dogs and we made our way off the mountain back to the highway as quick as possible, calling via CB radio to our other guides to help catch dogs before they crossed the busy road.

As soon as we got on a clear road, Keedin throttled down and we flew out of the mountains towards the highway. We reached speeds upwards of 60 mph and pushed that Tacoma to the limits, but trucks are replaceable, good hounds are family. By the time we made it to pavement, most of the dogs had crossed the highway and only one old pup was picked up alongside the busy road before she caught up with the rest of the pack. The bear was heading deep into a roadless area that we feared would be near inaccessible so we hurried to find access that would put us close to their path. Luckily there was some timber-company ground that the Dennys had access to that allowed us to get up the mountain and closer to the dogs, but it didn’t go far and beyond that is some of the roughest country in the lower 48.

When we reached the stopping point, Keedin and I took off up the tough terrain with leashes slung over our shoulders to cut off the dogs. We clamored over cliffs and through thick brush as quick as we could. My long legs allowed me to push through some the brush quicker and I could hear the baying of dogs as they approached. Keedin yelled out locations as I pushed higher up the slope.

“Just catch Chuck,” he yelled, hoping that if I caught the lead dog, the others would follow suit and come with us. I started yelling for that gritty hound and he turned my direction. As he ran by, I snatched his collar and hooked up the leash. He cast a look of betrayal my way. I called for the other dogs and headed back down to Keedin. The remaining dogs followed, and we were able to get the whole pack back to the trucks with no injuries or incidents. It was another wild day in the mountains, but we made it back to the lodge with the whole team in good spirits.

Sounds like a pretty easy pursuit, doesn’t it?