Steamin'... minds me... I was three hours from the truck on a due east bearing. It was a cool October day, mid afternnon, and I was on an old logging road, headed for a crossing of Big Forks Stream in Kent County, New Brunswick. I could hear water and see a level alder flood plain to my right as I walked down a slope... beaver pond, I was sure. I knew the old stream crossing was close. The logging road turned to a trail and then to a path and then to a "bear tunnel".

A bear tunnel is a few feet wide and a few feet tall (depends on the bear), like an archway. Then, I could smell it. Plain as if I had some on my 'stache. I stopped and replaced the number six in the top barrel with a slug. I crouched and moved forward slowly while I held my shotgun tightly on my hip, safety off, trigger finger on the side of the breech. I stepped over the pile of steaming fresh bear shit and continued to the edge of the stream.

I broke out of the dense alders and small hardwood trees about ten feet from the edge of an old wooden bridge and stood up from my stoop, putting the safety back on. Now, I don't know who was more scared... the duck that lifted from the pool where the old bridge used to be or me, but I did see the duck shit when he was about three feet off the water. I knew what he felt like.

I surveyed the area. It was like Eden in the middle of nowhere. Absolutely beautiful. There was at least a hundred good sized trout in the pool, even with the duck there. I made a hundred yard half-circle to the upstream and downstream sides looking for ruffed grouse sign and was impressed. I knew I would be back again for partridge at a better time of day. I laid down at the edge of the bridge and had a smoke.

I got up and started the long walk back to the truck. At the entrance to the beer tunnel, I crouched and took about four steps in when he appeared, in the middle of the tunnel, broadside, about twenty feet away. He filled the tunnel and all I could see was head and shoulders. Immediately, I kneeled and fired both barrels into the brush above him and reloaded in an instant. He was gone and I hadn't seen which way.

I advanced at a good pace but kept a keen eye out until I was a good fifty yards past where he had stood. Two hours later, I was at the truck, scraping bear shit off my right boot. Ya know... someday I will go back there after them partridge... someday. That was about fifteen years ago.