Araya's Outdoor Adventures

Tag: Hunter

  • 15 Do’s and Don’ts When Hound Hunting Black Bears

    15 Do’s and Don’ts When Hound Hunting Black Bears

    August 1st, 2025

    What are some black bear hunting do’s and don’ts when it comes to hound hunting? Let’s explore my top fifteen tips below, but first, why should you listen to me?

    Who Am I, And Why Should You Listen To Me?

    I am no professional. No, I am totally average when it comes to the levels of experience for hound hunters. But I’ve been going along with a professional since the age of five. So, I’d say I’ve picked up on some things over the last twenty-one years. Especially when it comes to bear hunting – my favorite thing to do in the world.

    The adrenaline high of walking into a bear tree is like no other. The echoes of the hounds bouncing around the canyon as you pick your way down or up to them, your heart beating so fast you can’t focus on anything besides putting one foot in front of the other. Even after a hundred bear trees, that rush was still there, and I imagine it’d never change. That isn’t to say there aren’t downsides to it. Because that’d be a blatant lie, but it was what made my – and my father’s – heart sing.

    If you are just starting out, or maybe want to hone your craft a bit more, so that hound hunting black bears makes your heart sing too, then take into consideration the below fifteen do’s and don’ts next time you head out and chase some bears around.

    #1 The Hound Pack

    Do’s: Find a good strike dog, or four. Not all dogs are ‘The One’, sometimes it takes a few generations and pups to find a good one. But stick it out. Train them with the best, and if needed or possible, you can always buy one from a buddy or from a well renowned hunter. However, the dog may not be what they were all bragged to be. Also, you want to make sure all of your dog’s will tree and bay a bear, because you can’t have a dog leave the tree and ruin the hunt, or even more dogs.

    Don’ts: Hunt with too many pups, unless you want to be out all day searching for them. Or have the patience for it. Don’t hold onto those dogs that aren’t working out, if they fight, don’t tree, or don’t even leave the truck, in the long run they are going to do you more harm than good, someone out there could use them more, whether it is for hunting or not. 

    #2 Tracking Equipment

    Do’s: Make sure to update your equipment. Make sure the equipment is charged, and don’t forget it before you set off. You don’t have to have the best, only something that works for you. Also, you want to keep on top of the dogs’ location as you chase them around, that way you can catch the bear and dogs crossing along the way, which makes it easier to grab backdogs and re-dump them back in if possible.

    Don’ts: Forget it. Or forget to charge it. Especially the collars, otherwise you’ll be up shit creek.

    #3 Distance

    Do’s: Be prepared to walk anywhere for any amount of time. Bears can run for miles, and miles if they want, and there is not always road access to said areas. This can be cut down with a Side-By-Side, or good judging of distance and where to hike in from. Bears are distance runners, not sprinters like cougars, so always be ready to walk.

    Don’ts: Overestimate the distance it will take to get somewhere. If you have anywhere to go after a hunt – like to a New Year’s Eve party – be prepared to be late, or absent. The day can take a turn for the worst fairly easily. 

    #4 Location

    Do’s: Be aware of where you are, whether you are on public, private, potlatch, state, or federal land. You can get in serious trouble if you are hunting on land that you are not supposed to be on.  Especially places like Idaho where new legislation no longer allows access in some areas, except for walking. Be familiar with where you are hunting, and practice makes perfection. The more you explore, the more you know.

    Don’ts: Push your luck. You do not want to be lost for the day, you don’t want to lose your license, and you don’t want to go to jail.

    #5 Packing

    Do’s: Pack necessities when walking into a bear tree/bay job; a weapon of your choice, spare bullets/arrows, a flashlight, water, leashes, tracking equipment, and if possible a phone or a camera. When going out for the day, make sure your truck is always loaded with all of the above, plus, spare drinks, a shovel, a first aid kit, lunch, snacks, extra collars, a spare battery or two for your GPS tracker, spare clothes, and more spare bullets/arrows.

    Don’ts: Be cocky, bring the extra bullets/arrows. You don’t want to have to hike back to the truck to get more, or leave a wounded animal. I’ve spent several hunts wishing I’d brought along some water or a flashlight, so don’t be me. Remember those things when the time calls for it. Also, don’t over pack yourself on a hike, you don’t need all the extra weight.

    #6 Weapons

    Do’s: Pack a rifle, and a backup. If you are using a bow, also have a backup. A pistol can save your life, or save the bear from suffering longer than necessary.

    Don’ts: Forget to check your gun’s accuracy. Or forget a pistol, you’ll never know when you’ll need it. I’ve wasted a slew of bullets trying to finish off a bear because the rifle was not sighted in properly. Don’t be me. Be smart.

    #7 Bear Scouting & Tracking

    Do’s: Watch for tracks while driving around, you might catch one before the dogs sniff it out, especially if it is a bit rained or sunned out. I’d also check the area for tracks before dumping your strike dogs if you are unsure if it isn’t trash – coyotes or whatever you dogs may try and run when they are bored and ready to run.

    Watching the ridges, the road, and the clearcuts for a retreating hind end when driving around, might also earn you a bear race as well. Lastly, be aware if you are running a black or grizzly bear, it is very uncommon to come across Grizzly’s, but there’s always a chance. Same thing goes with a sow and cubs, you need to be aware if there are cubs, because if so, it’s illegal to kill a sow with cubs. In general, be sure to pay attention to whether it’ll be a legal kill or not.

    Don’ts: That track may look big, but don’t overestimate that bear. It is probably only a buck fifty. Also, don’t put all your trust in your dogs, you are putting in the work too, look for tracks and stay on top of the race when you get it started.

    #8 Treeing

    Do’s: Be prepared for anything. You might need your climbing shoes. I’ve seen more than one person climb up after a hung up bear. Always tie back your dogs, you don’t want a bear falling on top of them, or to come down fighting and grab a hold of one. Always make sure to judge the shot properly as well. Shooting from a tree is different from a close or short range shot on the ground. However, also make sure to simply enjoy the rush of the tree, as it is one of the best parts of hound hunting.

    Don’ts: Climb into the tree after a hung-up bear unless you are a hundred percent sure it is dead. Don’t let your dogs fight at the tree, or leave them treeing for too long, otherwise the bear can get anxious and jump, restarting your race. Also, it can lead to wolves coming in on your dogs, if they are in the area. Nobody wants wolves coming in on their dogs, so always be aware that’s a possibility, and try to avoid it as much as possible.

    #9 Baying

    Do’s: Be aware it happens, that it can be dangerous to walk into, and that not all dogs are bay dogs. 

    Don’ts: Accidentally shoot a dog, go near the bear unless you have a weapon – you never know when it’ll charge –  or overestimate that the bear won’t take off again, and again. Some bears simply do not like to tree. So, you might need to prepare to shoot on the ground, or pull the dogs off of it.

    #10 Be Prepared For Loss

    Do’s: Always be prepared for the worst. A dog can get hurt/killed any day, whether it’s from a bear, the terrain, wolves, another hunter, old age, cancer, or from being overworked. It happens, and it’s a killer on the heart. Be careful and enjoy every moment you can with your pack, because hound hunting is rough.

    Don’t: Act in anger. You can always make things worse.

    #11 Be Prepared For A Thin Wallet

    Do’s: Be prepared to spend lots and lots of money on tracking equipment, vet bills, dogs, clothing, broken vehicles, new vehicles, bait supplies, and shiny new things. Hunting is expensive, especially hound hunting, don’t be surprised for the big and small bills along the way.

    Don’ts: Don’t buy every new thing you see, it’s probably not going to help you anyway, and don’t drive on roads you’re not supposed to be on. That’ll just make it that much more expensive for you.

    #12 Always Be Aware Of The Land You Are On

    Do’s: Keep track of whether you are on private, public, state, potlatch, or federal land. Each one has their own regulations which may leave you avoiding the area per their rules.

    Don’ts: Say that no one will catch you, otherwise they will, and you’ll lose your license.

    #13 Know Your State’s Regulations

    Do’s: Each state is different, know your own’s regulations and rules, and any other ones that you are traveling to. Know what equipment you can use, like cameras, baits, and dogs. Also be aware of when the seasons are – which may differ from place to place -because you do not want to be thrown in jail or have your license suspended.

    Don’ts: Wing it. You don’t have to read the rule book every time you hunt, but it is always good to know the basics of your area’s regulations.

    #14: Field Dressing

    Do’s: Make sure to clean your kill within a timely manner so that you do not ruin your meat. Clean your knife before and after hand. Know what you want to do with the hide ahead of time, so you can skin it to match the style you want done. And enjoy your steaks, fingersteaks, backstrap, and your wall mount!

    Don’ts: Cut yourself, leave the guts too long – especially in the heat – and always refrigerate or freeze the meat when finished. Additionally, find the proper butcher or taxidermist to do any additional work, as a bad one makes for an empty wallet and horrible results.

    #15 Be Thankful, Be Respectful, & Be Modest

    Do’s: Be thankful for the good days, because the next day could be a shit show. Be respectful to the land, the animals, and your fellow hunters. It only takes one person to ruin it for all. Secondly, you’ll want to be modest, bragging too much can earn hate and discontent from hunters and non-hunters. It’s okay to share your beautiful catches, but just know bragging and showboating to an extreme can lead to resentment from those that hate the lifestyle of hound hunting.

    Don’ts: Be rude, disgraceful, or boastful to a degree that you create a bad name for every other hunter out there. Hunters’ worst enemies are ourselves, especially those who hate on other forms of hunting like hound hunting, compound bow hunting, or trapping – we are a team. You don’t always have to love everything others do, but one change in legislation leads to another. Not speaking up or pushing to eliminate certain types of hunting – like hound hunting – is just as bad as being an anti-hunter.

    In Conclusion

    Have fun, but be safe, and be legal. Hunting is a privilege in this day and age, and we don’t want it taken away from us. Hound hunting is one of the most rewarding things one can do, so sit back and enjoy the ride!

    Other Related Articles

    A Morale Booster: Overcoming a Bear Drought

    Passing The Torch: An Idaho Bear Hunting Adventure

    Tell Me About Your Story

    Let me know if you have any questions or additional tips in the comments below!

    Well that is all she adventured, live life to the fullest and get out and hunt!!

    Araya Rasmussen

    August 1st, 2025

  • A Boost in Morale: Overcoming A Bear Drought

    A Boost in Morale: Overcoming A Bear Drought

    June 12th, 2025

    Six days of no bears makes a hound man a bit crazy. So much so, that you start to wonder if there is in fact any bears in the woods that you’re hunting in. As my dad, Andy Rasmussen, declared after six days of no bears, “There ain’t no bears in these woods!”

    There Ain’t No Bears In These Woods

    After a day of no bear tracks, races, or any hard strikes, Dad, my brothers, AJ and Adam, and I cruised our way down to the hot springs twenty minutes away from camp.

    Clouds rolled in while we wrapped up our soak in the springs, and with it came Dad’s renewed hope.

    “The bears got be moving now.” Dad said, taking in the clouds looming above.

    “You’ve been saying that the last six days, Dad.” Aj replied, hands on hips, a cowboy boot casually propped on top of a river rock.

    “Well, one of these times it’ll be true.” Dad smirked.

    The guys had scoured the loops around camp several times a day trying to run some bears. But the little buggers were being tricky, crossing at night, or not crossing the roads at all. It got to the point that Dad considered cutting his losses and going home early. However, the refreshing natural occurring hot springs, and his own determination, kept him from leaving the area.

    So, after I arrived six days into their trip, fresh to go, the guys on the other hand, were dragging. As six days of no bears, makes a person a bit crazy. I just hoped I’d be the their lucky charm and we’d end the bear drought with our evening hunt, despite our lack of luck earlier that morning.

    Did You Guys See A Bear?

    A quick change of clothes, some dinner, and load up of the dogs later, and we were once again making the loop around Four Corners. AJ, the designated chauffeur for the evening, drove us along to the thump and beat of rock music, Dad taking the evening off after having to drive from 3:30am to 1pm.

    Adam and I, on the other hand, chilled in the back, both lost to our devices.

    About a mile in to our hunt, indistinct words came from the front of the truck before suddenly, AJ gunned it down the road.

    The hounds broke out into a ruckus of a strike. Gravel crunched. Indistinct words came from the cab of the truck again, and then AJ slammed into park, jerking us all around like bobble heads. Doors left ajar, Dad and AJ scurried to the tailgate, leaving Adam and me confused, and a bit concussed.

    The dogs were dumped loose, screaming up the sandy mountain and around the soaring Ponderosa Pines that made up the area’s landscape.

    Adam and I looked to each other, then back outside. Scurrying out, we hastened to see what was going on.

    The dogs came back around a minute later, the dust and excitement of the race throwing them off the track. Dad hollered them back up the steep incline, and for the second go around, the hounds screamed up it.

    Striding over to Dad propped against the truck on his hand-held Garmin, I asked, “What happened? Did a bear cross or something?”

    Looking up from his GPS, he quirked a brow. “Yeah, a yearling crossed right in front of us. You’d know that if you’d been paying attention.”

    I mean he wasn’t wrong, but did he have to call me out like that?

    A Running Bear

    AJ cruised us down the road until we were able to flip around and head back towards the dogs, who were now paralleling the road behind us. It took about a minute, and then we were within hearing range once again.

    The truck jerked to a stop, but the radio played on, overshadowing the dogs barking two hundred yards up the mountain from us.

    “Turn that off!” I whisper-yelled, half hanging out the window, phone in hand.

    The truck rattled for a moment, and then there was silence. The hounds’ barks doubled in volume. But to my chagrin, they kept side-hilling along the mountain, leaving us in their dust. Rather than crossing down in front of us, where I could’ve gotten a video.

    We hit Four Corners again, taking the middle split, but we only got about a half mile down it before Dad directed AJ to turn around again, the bear having decided to turn and head straight for the road we had just left.

    We bumped, shook, and rattled our way to the dogs, until we screeched to a halt fifty yards short of the race. Doors slammed and we all went to running. Dad, the only one without a phone, caught the bear crossing, but the rest of us missed it. The little bugger quick as it lopped across the road into the bushes to the right, crossing the creek a second later.

    Thankfully, it only went about another seven hundred yards or so and treed. So, after some painstaking efforts to park the truck, AJ still a rookie driver at the age of sixteen, we hiked in to see the first bear ran and caught over the last six days.

    A Little Morale Booster

    Seven hundred yards of being raked across by trees and bushes, landed us at what we assumed was a treed bear.

    The dogs’ barks echoed around us, the sound music to our ears. No more drought. No more wondering whether there were bears in these woods or not. Because we did it. We’d caught a bear. It just may have taken us six grueling days to do so, was all.

    To the right of the skid road we’d walked out on, the hounds circled a pile of boulders. Chewy, Rocky, and Ace’s heads were deep into the rocks, the rest of the hounds standing around them, heads up to the sky barking their hearts out.

    Crawling down to them, we peeked in and saw the light brown snout of the yearling we’d caught. Body tucked underneath a boulder, the little feller stayed out of reach of both the dogs and us.

    Patting the dogs’ heads, we said our ‘good jobs’ and rounded everything up, ready to go.

    The thick overgrowth of the skid road once again raked over us, sweat dripping down our foreheads, the dogs panting and trotting along with us.

    “Welp. That was a nice little morale booster. Let’s go find us another.” Dad said, his long legs striding through the growth, his head held a little higher.

    He was right, we did in fact have more bears to catch, now that the bear drought was over, we were ready to get ‘er done. We had AJ and I’s tags to fill after all. There was no more time for messing around.

    If you want to watch this hunt in video format, check out the link below!

    https://www.tiktok.com/@arayanicole_20/video/7524073442832829709?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7524070114279835166

    Tell Me About Your Story

    Have you ever went through a bear drought? Or maybe some other game drought?

    Well that is all she adventured, live life to the fullest and get out and hunt!!

    Araya Rasmussen

    July 6th, 2025

  • Double Whammy: A Mother-Daughter Turkey Hunt

    Double Whammy: A Mother-Daughter Turkey Hunt

    April 25th, 2015

    Double whammy: A twofold boon, especially favored in the United States as a reference for tagging two animals in a day.

    Sharing: A hated word in my vocabulary. 

    Swallowing Pride

    Swallowing the bitterness washing up my throat, I watched the tom strut into the open, and consequently straight into Mom’s sights.

    Would she miss it? Would it be bigger than mine?

    Mom had never killed a turkey before, so it was obvious that she’d get dibs on the first tom of the day. Well, that’s what Dad said anyways.

    Why wasn’t I first? I thought I was his favorite.

    It stung. But he was in charge, and I loved hunting with him too much to argue. Whiny babies didn’t get to go hunting after all.

    Mom’s trigger finger inched from the receiver to the trigger. This was it. She was going to shoot. 

    My gut tightened.

    I really hope I can shoot a bigger one…

    “BOOM!” 

    The turkey’s head dropped, its whole body flopping to the ground. It kicked around, trying to shake off the aftereffects of the shotgun pellets. Then the lights turned off. All movements halted, the bird left still in the dirt.

    Dad jumped up, Mom and I only a few feet behind.

    The adrenaline of the hunt pulsed through me, a wave of happiness on its heels.

    She did it! Mom got her first turkey!

    The awful heartburn-like ache from the jealousy of having to share my hunting buddy, Dad, and the opportunities to get a turkey with my mom for the day, eased. 

    Mom was awesome! Just like Dad and me!

    Halfway To A Double Whammy

    Seeing the pretty colors of Mom’s turkey, I clapped her on the shoulder. “Congrats! That was awesome! Your bird is so cool! I love the coloring!” 

    I ran my fingers over the warm colors of the inner feathers, and then over the fan’s outer ring that tipped off into a light brown-blonde color. The featherless head repelled me, so I stayed away from the pale skin that faded into the blues and reds of the neck. 

    Why do their heads gotta look so weird? I mean, they can’t help what they looked like, but gross. 

    Stepping back, I gave Mom space to check out her own bird. The thing was pretty average, no monster or mouse. It’s coloring a striking resemblance to my own hair, and it was hers.

    She did it. She’d gotten her first turkey.

    Now it was my turn.

    Dad picked up the turkey and turned towards us. “You ready to get yours, Araya?”

    “Oh, heck ya! I was born ready!” I skipped back to the truck, an ear splitting smile, Dad, Mom, and the first turkey of the day, in tow.

    Locating Another Turkey

    “Cluck, cluck, cluck.” Dad paused for a beat, then resumed scrapping the two pieces of the wooden call against each other. “Cluck. Cluck.” 

    We’d been driving for hours, stopping at all the known turkey spots to call. But after each new call with no response, my huntin’ buzz had been fizzling away, bit by bit. The thoughts of being out hunted by Mom taunted me.

    What if this means she’s the better hunter? Am I going to be skunked out? What if I don’t just not get a turkey today, but this whole season? What if my luck ran out?

    Dad tried one last time. “Cluck. Cluck.”

    “Gobble.” Came the tell-tale whisper of a tom responding a few hundred yards away.

    I held my breath, blood thrumming with so much excitement that I felt like a live wire. 

    “Cluck. Cluck.” Dad responded.

    “Gobble. Gobble.”

    The call scraped gently, coming out at a lower pitch. “Cluck, cluck, cluck.”

    Satisfied, Dad slid the strap back over the handle and said, “Let’s go.”

    The Call-In

    I shifted my elbows as I rested the shotgun on top of a small boulder. The makeshift gun-stand did wonders to cut my natural shaking to a manageable degree. The turkey, now silent as a mouse, lingered closer, still a good fifty yards off in the tree-line to the right of us. 

    You’d think they’d get louder and come a running. But no. They liked to surprise you when you least expected it. Damn birds, too smart for their own good. 

    Dad, two feet behind me, called softly again. “Cluck, cluck, cluck.”

    Trying to be tricky, the tom responded with a soft, ‘yelp’ too low to discern its exact position.    

    My arms shook, the weight of the gun and my excitement wavering my steadiness. I set the gun sideways on the rock, needing a brief release to shake out my arms. Taking advantage of the break, I pulled the camo netting I wore, back onto my nose. Stupid thing.  

    Seeing Dad’s eyes bouncing back and forth from the gun to me with urgency, I repositioned myself. The gun rested and ready to go in my arms once again, I flicked the safety off. 

    Come on you little bugger, show yourself. I don’t got all day. 

    My eyes scanned the tree-line as I waited for the turkey’s bobbing head to come into view. 

    Please be big. Or at least a little bigger than Mom’s.

    A rustle of leaves and an accompanying ‘yelp,’ drew my eyes to the right. It took a second for me to catch sight of anything. But once they did, they didn’t move. 

    The Second Turkey Of The Day

    The turkey hid behind a stump twenty-five yards away, the bright tips of its fan, the only thing peaking above the wood. 

    My index finger settled onto the trigger. 

    The bird strutted a few steps, head bobbing. Then it paused, eyes locked right onto me. 

    I froze, the red and blue colors of its face fading into the background as its beady eyes stared me down. Damn. The thing probably thought my forehead peeking out from my neck guard and camo hood was odd. My eyes burned, the need to blink drying my eyes. Please don’t run.

    A hair’s breadth away from blinking and busting us, the turkey turned its head.

    Releasing a pent up breath, I blinked, gripped the gun tight to my shoulder, and fired.

    “BOOM!”

    The pump moved with my hand, sliding the next shell into place. The bird wobbled but remained upright. I rested my cheek back onto the gun, ready to pull the trigger.

    Body slack, the turkey flopped over, the grass muffling its fall.

    I stood up, intent on running down to it to ensure it was truly dead, but by the time I got up with the gun, Dad had already beat me to it.

    Dad turned to Mom and me, dead turkey in hand. Blood dripped all over the place. But I did it. I’d gotten my turkey. There was no being skunked for me. Or being out hunted by Mom. Nope. 

    Now to see if it was bigger than mom’s…

    Measuring Turkeys

    If you learn anything about me, it’s that I sort of have a competitive streak a mile wide. Sometimes it reared its ugly head while I played games, but most of the time it was when I hunted.

    “I think this one might be smaller than Mom’s.” Dad said, inspecting the bird dangling from his hand.

    “WHAT?! No, it isn’t! Mine is totally bigger!” I exclaimed, voice pitched high.

    “Okay, well let’s compare them, then.” Dad walked off towards the truck, the turkey and us in tow. 

    Whelp, I guess we’re going to settle this the old fashioned way.

    The second we got back, Dad grabbed Mom’s turkey from the bed of the truck, and held them up side by side.

    Dad took in each bird; comparing body sizes, weight, fans, and beards. It took only a moment, but it felt like forever before he made the decision. 

    “Well, Araya, I think yours does have a bigger body.” Dad surmised.

    “Told ya!” Gravel crunched underfoot as I did a little dance.

    Dad cleared his throat. “But, Mom’s turkey has a bigger fan and the beard is longer.” Done with his assessment, he shook his head at my continued antics. “You know most hunters go for the bigger beards and fans, right?” 

    “Yeah, whatever. Mine is bigger.” I shrugged, not in the least bit concerned about the beard or fan, continuing to do my victory dance in the middle of the road, not a care in the world.

    How could I be upset?  I’d killed a turkey. And so had Mom. You could say we’d had a double whammy of a day.

    A Mother-Daughter Double Whammy

    I may hate sharing my dad with others when hunting, and kills, but that competitiveness it stirred in me, paid off in the long run. As it kept the doubts about the shotgun from settling in while trying to get my third turkey ever. Too focused on beating Mom, and enthralled in the hunt itself, to be worried about whether I was going to miss or not. Instead, I had a blast turkey hunting with Mom and Dad, as we not only filled one tag, but two.

    I just hoped we got to experience more days like this. Because not every hunt ends with one shot kills, and even rarer was it for us to tag two animals in one day. Rather, you could spend multiple days, and use countless bullets trying to just get that one animal for the day. But this amazing spring day, Mom and I pulled off what you could call: A Mother-Daughter Double Whammy.

    I hoped everyday could be more like this one.

    Pictured above is Mom (left) and me (right) with our turkeys.

    Other Related Articles

    Shotguns and Turkey Hunting: Overcoming Gun Shyness & Becoming a Certified Turkey Hunter

    Tell Me About Your Story

    Have you ever struggled with your ego when hunting? If so, what helps you smother it and rejoice in your hunting buddy’s successes?

    Well that is all she adventured, live life to the fullest and get out and hunt!!

    Araya Rasmussen 

    June 21st, 2025