By Autumn Pratt
For 26 years, my mom held the record for the biggest bear shot by a female bowhunter in Michigan. And then I went on my first hunt with a compound…
When I began hunting in 2014 at age six, I never imagined that I would shoot a record book bear nine years later. During the youth hunt that year, I took my first deer, a 6-point buck, with my Parker crossbow. I was hooked and continued to deer hunt every year with pretty good success.
I wanted to hunt with a compound bow, so my dad bought me a Bear Legit for Easter in 2021. I would practice with it often, but I just couldn’t draw enough poundage to make a clean, lethal shot from a reasonable distance. Initially, I could only pull back 27 pounds. I was a bit discouraged until a year later when I joined the Lutheran High North Archery Club in my freshman year. It was a long haul for my mom to drive me across town to the shooting range at Detroit Sportsmen’s Congress every Thursday night, but she knew I was committed to improving my skills and made sure I got there. With only a small group of six kids, it allowed me plenty of time to get personal instruction and tuning from my instructor. With every shot, my bow began to draw easier, and my groups were closing in so tight that I could only shoot two arrows at a time by early spring. The continued practice allowed me to dial my bow up to 35 pounds, which is what I had been hoping for.
As the deadline for bear applications drew near, my parents and I were contemplating whether my mom should apply for a bear permit and transfer it to me. The transfer process allows a person to apply for a permit and transfer the successful license to a youth hunter or someone with an advanced illness. She had 12 preference points, enough to draw the Red Oak area, a big section in the northern part of lower Michigan. This area includes Crawford County, where we have a family cabin. My mom had taken two bears with her bow already, one in 1997 and one in 2006, and she was excited to give me the opportunity to bear hunt. And, of course, she and my dad would still partake in the experience with me. My mom applied and was successful in drawing a permit. She transferred it to me…. and I was going bear hunting!
Little did I know my summer vacation would be consumed with intense preparation for this hunt that wouldn’t take place until September. My parents and I immediately began to plan the upcoming months to make this hunt successful. There was so much to do, from gathering bait to locating hunting spots. What was I getting myself into?
The first line of business was looking over my bow and ensuring nothing would compromise my opportunity. My dad and I worked on making my bow quieter by changing the whisker biscuit arrow rest to a drop-away. Our first attempt did not work as planned. The rest was not dropping quickly enough and was catching on my arrow. We drove across town and replaced the entire setup again with a different drop-away. Finally, my arrow cleared the rest but was still not consistently flying straight. Our next step was to find arrows with a stiffer shaft that would fly with precision. The Victory VFORCE was the ticket to adequately carry my 125-grain Tuffhead broadhead with perfect flight. We added felt to ensure that everything was silent, and finally, my bow was shooting with accuracy.
As my friends gathered for pool parties, I spent most of my summer months practicing every day in my grandfather’s backyard. My mom was like a drill sergeant. If it rained, I had to draw my bow 30 times in the living room to keep my muscles toned and my form consistent. She told me the rigorous practice would pay off and allow me to draw my bow back as if it were an extension of my arm. That would be important when a black bear was in front of me, and I needed to focus solely on a lethal shot. With me not being a fan of heights, she started by placing my platform stand just a few inches off the ground, then week by week raising it a few feet at a time until I felt comfortable at 15 feet.
She and Dad also practiced scenarios in which they would say, “Bear’s walking in!” I’d reach for my bow, slowly start to stand up, and they’d say, “Freeze! He’s looking at you.” I’d have to crouch without moving for a minute or more. Then they’d tell me he lowered his head, and I could continue my draw. They tried to make practice sessions as realistic as possible. Even my 3-D bear target was special. It was a gift from my grandpa, “Pops,” who worked at Bear Archery in Grayling back in the day. He was my biggest fan and was so excited for me to go on this hunt! By the time bear season arrived, I had all the confidence in the world that my arrow would fly straight, and my broadhead would dot my target exactly where I intended as long as my form stayed consistent.
My dad and I spent many hours scouting until we narrowed down our favorite spots. He’s a devout user of OnX, always searching for nooks and crannies that others overlook. We selected spots out of the way and a long hike back in the woods, often going up to a mile from any road. Dad was my personal guide. We were crossing streams, going up hills and back down others. It was very interesting to see all the evidence of bear presence in the woods, which I had never noticed before. There were claw marks on trees, pieces of hair on trees where they rubbed their backs, bear scat, and bear prints. We considered the prevailing wind but also set up a spot for an east wind. We also had to be sure there was a tree for two tree stands to be hidden in as my dad would sit with me on my hunt.
The baiting season was about to begin, so my dad rounded up all the sweets we would need, including Pop-Tarts, syrups, and donuts, to name a few. We had to pack the goodies in a bucket strapped on a backpack I would carry into our spots. We began to deliver irresistible treats deep into the swamp to draw in hungry boars. Almost two weeks later, our first bait was hit. We began getting trail cam photos of some decent bears. The anticipation grew.
I then had to select the appropriate gear to wear for the hunt. Clothes that would be silent when I stood up to draw were vital. I packed my Badlands pack with all the necessities and ended up picking the best hunting outfit. My mom pulled out her polar fleece predator camo outfit and said, “Try this on. It will give you good luck, and it is as silent as can be.” It fit me perfectly, like it was made for me. My mom wore this outfit in 1997 to kill her record book bear. I was convinced this was going to bring me luck!
Finally, the first day of the hunt came, and I was so excited and nervous to get in the stand. To my left, it was swampy and wet, almost marsh-like. About 20 yards in front of me were lots of big pines with claw marks on some of them. Then, to my right was slightly higher ground, but still thick woods. We sat for hours only to hear a coyote barking in the distance.
The second night, I decided to sit the same stand. I just had a good feeling about this spot and wanted to give it another try. Once we got in the stand, and it quieted down, a sow and two cubs slowly approached the bait. They sniffed around briefly but seemed slightly on edge and moved on.
I patiently remained motionless, hoping that another bear would show. It wasn’t long before I saw a black figure moving towards me without a sound. As the bear approached the bait, I could tell he was nervous. He was constantly scent checking the area and came in and out of the thick cover twice. I was completely focused on taking a shot the next time he walked into the opening, so I stood and prepared to draw my bow. The bear slowly reappeared and went to the bait. He turned and exposed his vitals. At that moment, I drew my bow with ice in my veins. I zeroed in on my target and let the arrow fly. I heard the loud “whack” and knew I had hit the bear in a good spot as I watched him barrel out of sight with a growl.
My dad and I waited and listened for the sound of the bear to get his direction. I looked at Dad and put my hand over my face. I was freaking out and asking all of these questions – whisper yelling. He looked at the video to analyze the shot. We argued for the next 20 minutes whether it was a good shot. Finally, I said, “Put the video down, and let’s go see for ourselves.” But no, he made us wait another 25 minutes before taking our stands down and making the ¾ mile trek out to the truck to get help for the track. That was the longest wait of my life.
Returning to three yards past where I had shot the bear, I found the back half of my arrow covered in blood. There were a few drops here and there, a big pile of blood and then nothing for a while. It had started to rain, and the few drops of blood we found were mixing with water and diluting. Using our flashlights, it was hard to tell the difference between a leaf changing color and one with blood on it. I began to wonder if we’d have to bring in someone with a tracking dog.
My dad thought it would be best if we backed out and came back in the morning when we could see better. We were confident that the bear was down but couldn’t see the sign well enough to continue as the bear headed into a thick, wet tag alder swamp. It was a long, restless night for me, and daybreak couldn’t come soon enough. But I had some really good trackers helping, and I appreciated them immensely.
We met at my hunting spot at first light and headed in. We started at last blood and were mostly following broken branches, pushed-down shrubs and anything that looked like a smashed path. We could see the sign so much better in daylight, which led us quickly to the point where my mom saw a big black body that stood out on a piece of high ground amid a thicket of tag alders. The bear had only gone about 70 yards from my stand and was cold and stiff!
There were nine of us, and we were all elated! It’s a good thing, too, because it took all nine of us to get that bear out of the woods. My so-smart dad brought a jet sled that we used to drag it out of the wet swamp. When we reached high ground, we transferred the bear to a deer cart rated for 150 pounds. We used that from the tree stand to the road, and luckily, it held together just long enough to get to the road before it completely broke down. We headed to the DNR office to have the bear sealed (examined and recorded for biological data) and a tooth extracted. This was an interesting process, and I found out that my bear was six years old. The bear was weighed prior to processing and was 330 pounds field-dressed. The skull measured 20 9/16 inches.
I took the head and cape home to show my pops. He was so proud of me! Then off to the taxidermist we went to get a head mount. My bear had this neat white patch on his chest; he was beautiful!
I received three awards for my bear from Commemorative Bucks of Michigan for the 2023 season. I took first place for All Entries in the Bow & Arrow category, first place and current record holder for Youth Bow & Arrow, and first place and current record holder for Women’s Bow & Arrow, a record my mom previously held for 26 years. I was also awarded a certificate from Pope & Young and Boone and Crockett.
This was an amazing experience and an awesome first hunt with my compound bow. I can’t wait for my next hunting adventure!
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