Quest

A young hunter’s five-year quest for a Washington State black bear

- Jason Brooks (Ryan’s father)

When I was sixteen and earned my freedom in the form of a driver’s license, I spent that summer exploring the mountains, forest and rivers. One summer day while fishing a local creek, I stumbled across a cinnamon color phase bear that was tearing up a stump and eating ants. Standing still so the bear wouldn’t run away, the afternoon was spent watching that bear instead of casting for trout. After that encounter, I became intrigued by black bears, reading everything I could about them and studying each one I came across in the mountains. The next fall I was able to tag my first bear, and like other bear hunters it fueled my passion for them. After packing a few other bears out of the backcountry, either my wisdom or aching body caught up to me and I began enjoying watching the bears more than harvesting them. But my respect and admiration kept me hunting bears each fall even if I chose to pass instead of pack another one off of the mountain.

Several years later on a fall day, while my youngest son and I were driving down a logging road to look for deer, we noticed an object in the middle of the road. Ryan asked what it was and at first I thought a logger had rolled a stump into the road. Then the stump slowly strolled to the edge of the ditch and Ryan shouted, “bear!” It was the first time he had seen a bear in the wild and the young six-year old was very excited. The cinnamon colored boar ambled away as we watched. Like me, he became fascinated with bears and this sighting began Ryan’s quest for his first black bear.