They drove through Sebois onto a logging road, and parked the pickup by a skidder trail that led to an old beaver flowage almost a mile back in. They’d caught trout here before; as far as they knew, no one else fished it and they expected to have it to themselves again.

When they got to the flowage they decided to split up, Junior fishing downstream, Bob up. Bob had a small knapsack containing a hunting knife, some extra fishing equipment, and a bag of bologna sandwiches, and he left it on a stump in a small clearing at the edge of the skidder trail, about 50 feet from the flowage. They agreed to meet back at the clearing for lunch.

Junior fished his way down the brush-choked stream, pushing through alders and raspberry bushes and thick fir. It was hot, the bugs were hungry, and the fish weren’t. About 10 o’clock Junior gave up and headed back upstream. When he got to the flowage, he headed directly for the bag of sandwiches, hungry.

The knapsack was on the ground on its side, open. The sandwich bag was beside it, empty, and the papers the sandwiches had been wrapped in were lying flat and open beside it. The sandwiches were gone.

Junior’s first thought was that Bob had beaten him to the sandwiches. He wondered why Bob had eaten all of them, and why he had thrown the papers sloppily on the ground. Both men were always careful not to leave trash in the woods. The thought that an animal, possibly a bear, might have done it, passed briefly through his mind.

He yelled for Bob, but there was no answer. Junior decided to wait for him, so he headed back up the skidder trail a bit. A big tree trunk lay on the ground about 20 feet off the trail, and he sat on it.

He was drowsy in the sun, but the black flies kept him from dozing. He was wondering for the 20th time whether he should head upstream to find Bob, when he saw something dark about 100 yards up the skidder trail, coming from the direction of the road.

It was a bear. Junior wasn’t alarmed; at 32, he’d spent most of his life in the woods. He’d run his own woods operation for 10 years, hunted and fished whenever he had time, and was an experienced woodsman. He’d seen bears before, and had shot one a few years ago. He had absolutely no fear of them. He decided he’d sit still and let the bear pass by. It would be interesting to see how close it got before it scented him and ran off. It wasn’t particularly large for a bear; Junior’s practiced eye told him it weighed about 150 pounds or so, about what he himself weighed.

The bear ambled slowly down the trail, and finally came to where Junior had left the trail and walked to the tree trunk. He’ll catch my scent now, he thought, and bolt.

Instead, the bear took a 90-degree turn off the trail and headed directly for Junior. Junior was startled. The bear acted unconcerned, but kept coming. When it was only 10 feet away, Junior stood up and yelled.

The bear stopped, and looked up, directly at Junior. Then the hair stood up along its back and it lips peeled back, exposing its teeth. It never made a sound. A clear, vivid thought came to Junior: I’m going to die. A wave of fear went through him, leaving him shaking and weak. His legs felt like rubber.

The bear inched cautiously closer, lips still peeled back. A solid piece of dry wood about 4 feet long lay on the ground beside Junior, and he grabbed it. When the bear came within reach, he slammed it over the head with the club as hard as he could. The bear stopped and shook its head, and stared at Junior.

Junior looked frantically around for a tree. There were a few 8-inch thick firs 10 feet or so away, but the only one within immediate reach was a small maple, about 6 inches thick. Damaged by a skidder, about 5 feet up the trunk bent over in a curve and ran parallel with the ground. At the top of the curve one solitary branch, about 3 inches thick, shot almost straight up.

The minute Junior turned to look for a tree, the bear stepped closer. Junior whirled back and yelled, and the bear stopped in its tracks, only inches away. He doesn’t like eye contact, Junior thought. He stops when I look directly at him.

Junior turned and ran the few feet to the maple, and scrambled up it. When he turned his back the bear rushed forward, stood up, bit him through the back of the calf of his right leg, and tried to pull him down out of the tree. Somehow Junior pulled free, climbed up to the limb, grabbed it, and stood up on the curved main trunk. Along with the shock of the bite, he felt a second of relief; I’m out of reach.

The bear, still standing, reached up and grabbed the maple with its front paws and pulled itself easily into the tree. In seconds it was almost on the trunk, its head almost touching Junior’s feet.

Junior scrambled and shimmied up the thin vertical limb about 3 feet. The bear climbed the rest of the way into the tree, steadied itself on the level trunk, peeled its lips back, and stretched its neck up to bite Junior’s feet.

Hanging on with his hands, Junior let go of the limb with his legs, swung them out, then swung them in and kicked the bear under the chin with everything he had. He knocked the bear right out of the tree.

The bear went immediately to the base of the maple, chewed off and bent the small shoots at the base, apparently to get them out of its way, and started climbing. When it got to the base of the limb again, Junior swung out and delivered another good kick. The bear fell out again, but this time caught itself by biting the trunk. It pulled itself back into the tree immediately.

Junior climbed up the limb as far as he dared to go. It was only about 1 inch thick at that point, and it leaned dangerously, the top resting against a nearby fir. He was a good 10 feet above the bear, and hopefully out of reach. He drew his knees up hard.

The bear stood up on the curved main trunk, gripped the vertical limb with its front paws, and stretched its neck towards Junior’s feet. They were just a foot out of reach. The bear stared up at him for a minute, obviously frustrated. Then it started to chew on the limb! Frantic, Junior swung and kicked again. His feet thudded solidly into the bear’s jaw and the animal fell completely out of the tree, and landed heavily.

It sat there for a minute, looking back and forth at Junior, the base of the maple, and the adjoining fir. It was obviously thinking over its next move. If it went up the fir, Junior would be within easy reach.

Junior was completely unnerved by the bear’s silent, methodical, persistent attack. This wasn’t an irrational, agitated defense of cubs or kill; this was a calm, deliberate, calculated attempt to kill him. He noticed that the bear wore two brightly colored ear tags. It’s a nuisance bear, he thought, trapped somewhere and released out here. It’s used to people. And it’s hungry. It wants to eat me. The thought came again, with the force of conviction: I’m going to die.

He felt suddenly weak, and wondered if he was going to pass out and fall out of the tree. His heart hammered and his chest felt like it might explode. He wondered if fear could give you a heart attack; this must be what one feels like. He sucked in deep, gasping breaths, trying to steady himself and clear his head. Gradually he calmed. He screamed at the bear, and for Bob. Maybe if another person showed up, the bear would leave.

The bear made up its mind; it got up, went to the fir, and started up. Junior was astonished at how fast it climbed. It literally shot up the tree, and was beside him in a second, well within reach. The thought flashed through his mind that he was lucky he hadn’t climbed one of the firs; he would have, if one had been within reach. The bear would have gotten him immediately if he had.

He slid quickly back down the limb and stood on the bent trunk again. The limb straightened, out of the bear’s reach.

The bear immediately came back down the fir, rushed to the maple, and started climbing. Junior shimmied back up the bending limb even further, until he was almost in the fir. This time the bear stood on the curve and started chewing on the limb again. On the third or fourth bite, Junior felt it crack and start to lean. The bear was having no trouble chewing through the limb.

Suddenly Junior remembered the hunting knife in the knapsack back in the clearing. He knew he was coming out of the tree; if he jumped before the limb went over, he might catch the bear off guard and get a few seconds lead towards the knife.

He let go of the limb and dropped a full 15 feet to the ground, fell, got up, and bolted for the clearing. He hadn’t gone 20 feet when the bear was on him. It bit him in the buttocks. Still standing, Junior pulled free and kept on going. It bit him in the rear again, and Junior pulled free a second time. Then it grabbed him with both front paws by the sides of the hips, bit him in the back, and down they went.