The other day I watched world-renowned hunter Bob Foulkrod harvest a trophy caribou near the Arctic Circle. Just a couple hours later I saw him bag a trophy mule deer out West somewhere. Of course, it was all because I was channel surfing and saw him on the cable outdoors channels.
Frankly, I seldom watch the outdoor shows for reasons I won’t go into now, but when I see someone I know, I will stop to watch then. The fact is I’ve known Bob Foulkrod for well over 30 years. We are privileged to have him as our special guest at the Pennsylvania Outdoor Times Hunting & Fishing Show this February at the Blair County Convention Center. He really is everything you see him advertised to be, and a nice guy besides.
I knew Foulkrod before he was well known. I was among the very first outdoor writers to give him press those many years ago. He was just opening and trying to promote his deer camp in Tioga County, and that was when I lived in Bradford County and wrote for the Towanda Daily Review. He called me and invited me to come and hunt with him at the camp, which I did. He had everything scouted out and had tree stands all over his land. He took me to one, and with bow and arrow in hand, I climbed up the branches of a huge pine tree to reach the stand that was fixed in the tree at least 30 feet up.
I was fine as long as I was hugging the trunk of the tree as I climbed, but when I got out onto that small platform in the open, I began to swing and sway. “I can’t stay in this stand, I’m going to lose my balance,’’ I told Foulkrod. So back down the tree we climbed, and I took up a ground stand.
It was this experience that showed me that I couldn’t hunt from the heights. I’m not afraid of heights as such, but I cannot maintain my balance if I get more than 5 feet off the ground. I cannot even cross a creek on a log or anything similar.
I hunted at Foulkrod’s deer camp several times and attended various events and seminars he would hold there. I got to know him well and was always impressed with his marksmanship with bow and arrow.
Twenty years ago, Bob Foulkrod was my guide on a caribou and black bear hunt in northern Quebec. What a thrill that was. I truly will never forget sitting with Foulkrod on a hillside looking across the river at the mountainside across. Caribou migrated from the other side of that far mountain and would swim the river to the land on our side of the mountain. Then, we hoped that as they climbed our side of the mountain they would come near enough for a shot.
Waiting for migrating caribou to show up is about the same as waiting in a tree stand for a buck to show up in archery season. You spend a lot more time waiting than you do shooting. It can be torturous.
“There he is. That’s the one you want,’’ Bob finally whispered urgently to me. Caribou were streaming up over the top of the opposite mountain, and what a sight it was. I tried to pick out the animal Bob had pinpointed, and finally I did. But we had to wait. Wait for that animal to descend that far mountain, to ford the river and ascend our side within range. We kept out eyes on the big bull caribou, which carried wide antlers with a coveted “double shovel.’’ I had buck fever aplenty by the time the magnificent creature came into view. How I ever held my .308 Winchester steady enough for a shot, I don’t know, but somehow I did. How do you celebrate in northern Quebec when you take one of their great animals?
Today, a full head mount of that caribou hangs beside my fireplace. A little shabbier for the years, but one of my finest memories. I bagged a black bear on that same trip. And not over a bait pile.
Two fellow outdoor writers, Tom and Betty Lou Fegely, were on that hunting trip, and we would travel up and down the river in a big freighter canoe. One afternoon as we were drifting the river, I spotted a black bear on the far riverbank. It would dart into the thick brush beside the bank and then reappear in a bit a little farther down.
We couldn’t shoot from the water of course, so I was going to have to go to land and stalk him. Then Foulkrod had an idea. He gunned the motor, and we sped down the river and dived into a little cove past the spot where we had last seen the bear. I jumped out of the boat and ran onto land trying to find some spot where I could see at least a little in that thick brush while Foulkrod gunned the boat back to the middle of the river. The Fegelys and Bob kept up a running conversation, which allowed the bear to keep track of them.
Meanwhile, I searched around for an ambush point and amazingly found one. A well-defined trail led out of that brush onto the rocks beside the river. About 30 yards back, a huge rock lay in the open, and I leaned over that rock, using it to prop and steady my rifle. After a while, the bear sauntered up that trail, and I was able to bag it.
Meanwhile, Tom Fegely filmed the hunt from the middle of the river so I have a video record of it. But the crowning touch was that while I lay across that rock waiting for a bear to show up, a rainbow stretched across the river from shore to shore. What a sight. What a hunt.
Bob Foulkrod and I will have plenty to catch up on when I see my old friend at the show on Feb. 15-17. He’s the real deal, folks. Don’t miss seeing him.
For more info on Black Bear Hunting in Quebec go to Black Bear Hunting Quebec
