Pearson's Z-Force

The buck made his presence known on the afternoon of November 19 at 5:15pm  as he came in grunting at a group of does. After three trips to Kansas this year I was relieved when he presented himself  broadside at twenty yards.  With three alert does giving me the "you're busted stare" as I drew my bow,  I was still able to deliver the Magnus broadhead to the 10 ring. The buck was mine.

Jim's 2009 Equipment: Bow: Ben Pearson Z-34 with R2B2 Cams- 29"@60lbs.;   Arrows: Carbon Express;  Rest: Whisker Biscuit; Broadhead: Magnus Stinger 4-blade 100grain. 

The next morning,  my hunting buddy Bruce Jameson made an unbelievable shot on a true Kansas monster.  Bruce, who owns "The Outdoor Indoors" in Pittsburg, Kansas, a Ben Pearson Archery retailer  and award winning taxidermy service,  used a  Pearson Z-34 with R2B2 cams.

Pearson helped us deliver two perfect shots on two unique Kansas whitetails.  Both deer were estimated at over  200lbs field dressed. Let me tell you Kansas deer are big in every sense of the word!

The Power of Z-Force at work!

Story by Jim Taylor

Rising Tides Wildlife Refuge

Opening weekend of the 2009 bow season on White River NWR. We were basically rained on for three days straight.


Note Escronges lake level and distance behind my camper in the photos above on October 3rd.




As the river rose and the rain poured, two days later we have water under our camper and floating our ice chest away in the photos taken October 5th shown below.


Rain seems to be the theme to this years hunting season. I found out there is only so much time I can spend cooped up in a 27' camper. I think we can safely rule me out for participation in the NASA Space Station.



With the rain still falling we managed to slog our way out of the bottoms to spend one of the days salivating over the latest hunting gear while visiting MACK's Prairie Wings Sporting Goods fall festival in Stuttgart. In the rain of course.

Story by Jim Taylor

Colorado Hail

Colorado Bowhunt September 18 -26, 2009                             Story by Jim Taylor

The cold front brought the storm in fast and unloaded what seemed like gale force winds against the walls of my 3 room tent. Using my flashlight, I peered out from the warmth of my sleeping bag to watch the rapid flutter of the thin fabric tent walls. The tent was struggling to protect me and my gear from the cold rain and gust of the night time storm. It was as if I had gotten zipped up into some wacky carnival thrill ride where I could only guess what was about to be revealed as the storm crawled over us. I sent a text message to my wife Teresa that we were in a storm at 10:22pm.

This was the first night of my highly anticipated annual bowhunting reunion with elk hunting partners Mike, Wade and Tim.

The temperature was falling and forecast to drop below 20 degrees by morning. We all knew the weather in Colorado was unpredictable but none of us were prepared for these temperatures in September. The rain had now given way to a torrid of marble sized hail that was now pounding the roof and walls of my tent. The darkness was constantly interrupted by  flashes of light followed by near instant cracks of ear piercing thunder. As I thought about the consequences of our camp location(on the peak of a ridge top), I got a vision of the comical Wile E. Coyote, blackened to a crisp, white eyes blinking in a dazed stupor, while holding the skeletal remnants of a charred, still smoking umbrella.

The wind was getting increasingly more powerful as I watched my thin walled shelter yield more and more to the breath of the storm., yet after each violent gust the fiberglass tent poles would promptly return to the tent to its upright position.

The almost horizontal driving rain was now intent on finding its way into my tent via the screened windows and rain fly cover. Splatters of water were now finding my face, pillow and bedding. A wet sleeping bag was going to make for a long miserable night in the approaching cold. To avoid the spray I moved my air mattress to the center of the tent. This helped but I was still being constantly misted through the screen. Luckily I had purchased an inexpensive Wal-Mart brand camo rain poncho for the trip. As I unpacked it in the frigid night air the otherwise pliable poncho was now a noisy sheet of stiff plastic that struggled to lay flat over my camp bed. In-spite of the creases and pockets of the stiff poncho collecting pools of rainwater, it did manage to keep me and my bedding fairly dry during the storm.

As the winds continued their powerful but sporadic bursts I rolled over and attempted to get some sleep. I am feeling confident, cozy and warm with my weather proofing efforts. I am exhausted and personally for me the roar of the winds and the drone of the constant rain/hail mix actually make for good sleeping. Natures white noise. As I am drifting off to sleep I am startled by a loud SNAP! at the opposite corner of the tent. The wind gusts have finally exceeded the limits of my fiberglass tent poles! The loose tent walls were now flapping even louder in the fierce winds. I feared the large 10X20 tent was about to be torn loose from the tent stakes and drag me and my and gear across the open meadow and through jagged oak brush like a paratrooper being dragged by his open parachute. Minutes later I realized that the tent stakes and remaining poles are holding firm against the wind. Now clothed and with flashlight in hand I exited the tent to a bombardment of stinging hail on my neck and hands to analyze the situation. Using a couple of Carbon Express Arrows, and Gorilla duct tape I attempted a McGyver style fix using arrow shafts for a splint on the broken tent pole. I quickly found out the wind gust were much too powerful for even the three Carbon Express arrow shafts I had taped across the fractured tent pole.

Standing in the elements, all I could do is watch by the glow of my flash light as the hail and water accumulated on the now deflated wall. Water was pouring onto  my tent floor though the now horizontal screen window as it lay flat. I reentered my tent. Two of the three rooms were still standing tall. I quickly consolidated my belongings to the two remaining rooms and simply zipped up the door to the collapsed and now sinking room. The result was not unlike a submarine captain who would strategically shut selected doors to a torpedo damaged section of his submarine to keep it from sinking. Luckily in my case there were no poor sailors to be entombed.

I cranked up my Lil Buddy propane heater to the high setting and dried myself off along with pillows cases and pillows over the flame. Once dried I crawled back into my warm, comfortable and somewhat dry bed. The fierce storm has just about passed. My last text to my somewhat concerned wife Teresa indicating all was well was at 11:22pm.

2009 Equipment Preparations

by Jim Taylor

My broadhead target is little more ragged and the bulk of my gear is packed as I move into the final day of preparation for my 2009 Colorado Elk bowhunt.

Here in Fort Smith we have been deluged with constant rain over the last week. It has hampered my shooting practice as well as  my scheduled  2.7 mile runs around Shadow lake in my futile preparation for the peaks and canyons of Colorado.

After packing my truck tonight I will depart Fort Smith at 5 am tomorrow morning for the 19 hour trip to the Uncompahgre National Forest.    Ohio bowhunting partners Mike, Tim and  Wade are going to rendezvous with me around noon on Friday. Intentions are to set up camp Friday afternoon and hit the canyons with bow in hand at day break Saturday.

Arkansas Game & Fish Deer Seminar

by Jim Taylor

Deer Program Coordinator, Brad Miller talks with hunters about seasonal foods for Whitetails. Miller and other Game and Fish deer biologist, enforcement officers, and wildlife managers were at the River Valley Nature Center in Fort Smith Tuesday Sept 1 to brief hunters on the condition of the states deer habitat, herd health, harvest numbers and regulation changes.

Regarding regulation changes, the coolest change is that deer check stations have been eliminated! To tag a deer this fall you simply make a phone call. (online checking is still available) As in the past you are still required to immediately fill out your tag, note the zone it was killed in but instead of hauling your deer around in search of an open check station, you simply pull out your cell phone and call 1-877-507-4263. You are required to call within 24 hours of harvest. At some point during the call you will be given a confirmation number. The confirmation number is your proof of checking, write it down. Many states surrounding Arkansas are on a similar automated program. "Call in checking" will offer convenience for us hunters while at the same time provide real time harvest data to the Game and Fish Commission.

Dick Baxter, assistant deer program coordinator reported that the 2008 harvest increased again to 184,991 deer of which 7.1% or 13,134 were taken by bow. Click here for 2007-08 Deer Harvest Data

Vigilant hunters carefully noted the varying conception dates or "rut" throughout the state as they were reported by Baxter. Generally starting earlier in the north west part of the state and later as you move to the South East Delta region. (Mississippi alluvial plains rut was Nov 23-Dec 2). I know where I will be Thanksgiving week.

January 4 2009 Doe

Grey Ghosts of January

White River January 1-4 2009                                                   Story by Jim Taylor, Arkansas Bowhunter

Any time spent in the deer woods is a great time but I am especially partial to the late season bowhunts on White River Refuge. The claustrophobic curtain of greenery has fallen and the rain soaked mucky soil is better able to record the tracks and trails of unseen deer. Additionally the buzzing of mosquitoes and gnats have relinquished their patrols to the kinder periodic chorus of honking geese overhead. Nothing represents the wilds of White River Refuge more than the hauntingly solemn sound of Canadian geese passing overhead while silhouetted against a gray wintery sky.

This first week of January was forecasted to be rainy and to the delight of my wife and daughter, who would accompany me on this trip, was to be unusually warm for the next few days. This trip would be partially a family affair since my brother Robert, who lives in North Carolina, was to be in Dewitt visiting. I thought great, I will bring my camper, squeeze in a little bowhunting, and visit family all at the same time. We left Fort Smith in the A.M. but with two women in tow, by the time I made it to the refuge Thursday Jan 1, I had only enough time to set up the camper before darkness set in.

The girls would sleep in the next day while I bowhunted. Alone the next morning, I unloaded my 4wheeler, bows and pack in the damp pre dawn darkness. The rain had ceased but the patter of water droplets were still falling from the soaked tree limbs overhead. It had been late November since I had been down this particular trail on my 4wheeler. The sloppy rain soaked 4-wheeler trail would have been bad enough but when you throw in the recent heavy duck hunter traffic it was unrecognizable. In the darkness the 3 mile route to my usual stand location seemed unattainable as the trail was difficult to follow and underwater in long stretches. After a long and uneasy half mile on my winchless Honda 4-wheeler and the continued dread of getting stuck in the muck, I ceased my advance up the trail. With Summit climber stand on my back and Pearson Z-32 in hand I marched off into the dark wet woods. I didn't have a clue where I was going to hang my stand. I've hunted blind before and this would be no different. Sometimes you have to adapt, improvise and make the best of the situation that your dealt. This was the start to my new years January White River Refuge bowhunt.

Over the next couple of stand sittings I used the opportunity to explore new hunting areas several miles north. Saturday evening I found myself 25 plus feet up a telephone pole size Overcup tree. It faced a slough in an area that had recently been select cut. The deer sign was plentiful but it was wide open like a park. I could see 100 yards to the right and left of me. My initial concern was that this area was too open and all the deer sign was being made at night. The slough snaked its way in front of me at 35 yards with a Nuttall oak tree on its edge that had carpeted the ground with fresh acorns. The deer trail was deep and muddy skirting the slough up to the Nuttall oak.

At 3:45pm off to my left I spotted movement of two does at 60-70 yards... I thought man, in spite of the rainy weather, this was going to finally work out. As the deer made their way along the slough to the Nuttall, I picked up my bow, eased myself to a standing position and prepared myself for the end of the hunt. As I waited for the approaching does I spot a good mature racked buck behind them. My attention on this buck is short lived as I see a second bigger buck and it quickly becomes obvious that this second buck is the largest racked whitetail I have ever seen in thirty years of hunting on WRNWR. He's appeared in front of the first buck, and spooks the does which run off to my left. As the does make their way into the open this big chested guy just confidently walks from the sloughs edge out into the wide open at 60yrds. In a frantic effort to lure him from the does I give a couple of soft blows on my grunt tube. He hears me and stops for a full minute or even two and surveys the open timber in my direction while occasionally glancing away from me toward the does. As he stands there I study his rack through my 6 power range finder. He has massively thick main beams, mahogany in color, slightly palmated in shape. His tines coming off the main beam are narrowly spaced having almost a picket fence like appearance to this apparent 12 point. As he looks my directions I note that his rack is not as fantastically wide as it is tall. The rack is not narrow, its just that the exceptional height and mass displayed in typical form is what captures my focus.

Standing broadside in the wide open at 60 yards he is out of bow range. For me to even consider drawing my bow at such a magnificent animal he would have to close the distance by another 25 or 30 yards. I knew I would never be any competition for the does and resigned myself to just admiring this big brute from a far. The does eventually bolt out of sight. The two bucks quickly resume their pursuit and follow behind them.

In past hunts I have felt a knot in my stomach at such missed opportunities and haunted by thoughts of what might have been. This time.. no disappointment. I felt elated and privileged to have seen such a ghostly and magnificent White River buck.

Besides... there will always be next season.

KINGS OF KANSAS

November 23, 2008.                                                        by Jim Taylor, Arkansas Bowhunter

Nested in my lock-on I was barely 12 feet off the ground. I was well hidden among the scented boughs of a sturdy cedar tree that are common for stand locations in this area of Kansas. It is quickly evident that you don't have the tall easy climbing Overcup oak trees that permit the use of climbers that are our mainstay in Arkansas.

The buck came toward me at a steady gait moving North to South along a well worn trail that would deliver the buck to within 10 yards of my Cedar tree. I came to full draw and gave two successive grunts with increasing volume as the buck moved closer. He finally stopped in the last available shooting lane. He was a forgiving 10 yards away. At that range it is easy to think you have a chip shot and relax. I forced myself to take a second to focus my pin solidly on a spot behind the front shoulder of the 8 point buck. With finger on my release, I squeezed.  My 65lb Pearson Z-32  delivered the thunderhead tipped arrow right behind the shoulder.  WHACK!  The buck kicked, then  bolted and crashed through the forest.  Then silence.

The energy of the arrow was consumed in the split second it passed through the bucks rib cage. The crimson coated arrow was now laying harmlessly on top of the fall leaves that blanketed the late November forest floor. The arrows work was done. After a week in the Osage draws of eastern Kansas that are often nestled between corn and soybeans fields my hunt came to a fruitful close on a crisp but sunny Sunday November morning. A three and half year old eight point buck was now mine to quietly admire.

It was a primitive yet noble process that man has repeated for thousands of years. It still has the ability to inject the November chill directly into my veins and send uncontrolled shivers throughout my body. It serves as a reminder that despite our disconnected life of I-phones and "super center" processed hamburger there remains a vestige of predator instinct within that still calls us to the November forest each year.

Hunting partner Bruce Jameson bagged a huge 8 point this morning that we estimated will score about 152! That is one big 8 point. Monday Bruce spotted what he said was the biggest deer he had seen in 10 years. Let me tell you, in Bruce's neck of the Kansas deer woods that... is Big..

Jim Taylor, Arkansas Bowhunter

Steve Bradley

Three Year Elk Odessy

Finally... After three trips in as many years out west, two to Idaho and one to Colorado the ol Arkansas Bowhunter managed to find the alignment of the stars in perfect order while on the side of a dark canyon September 26, 2008 at 2:57pm. After six days of trekking up and down Colorado canyons and with the wear on my feet becoming more noticeable as the week progressed I finally found myself within 30 yards of a trophy class bull.

2008 Elk Bowhunt

The Colorado 2008 Posse

Our decision to not hunt Idaho for Elk this year was spurred by a friend of a friend who had reported a great number of Elk sighting in the area the year before.. Pete Sisson more on Pete later.

PETES PRIZE

by Jim Taylor

The Colorado gang with Petes Elk. Pete brought down the first elk of the week with this nice bull on Wednesday morning. He was pumped, excited and proud of his first bull elk! Read his story by clicking here: Pete is a dedicated and serious bowhunter who is fun to be with and knows how to enjoy himself while working as hard as any hunter as I have ever met. Petes success is no accident, he spends the months leading up to the hunt preparing himself physically for the extreme challenges of the Colorado mountains and devours the latest elk hunting techniques and diligently applies them. (Left to Right: Jim, Tim, Wade, Mike and Pete)

Pete Elk

Greg Case of Dewitt Arkansas with a heavy horned Illinois whitetail and below with a young 8 point taken during one of our annual White River NWR bowhunts. Greg and I have been best friends and ardent bowhunters since we were in middle and high school. He's lucky enough to live in the heart of big buck country in the Arkansas Delta. Visitors to Greg's home just outside the fertile farming community of Dewitt will be greeted with a den of trophy mounts that serves as a testament to his success as a slayer of 130 and 140 class delta whitetails.

Greg is meticulous to a fault about his equipment, site selection, and hunting manner. I kid him by calling him "Monk" the fanatically neat tv character. His obsessive attention to detail is why he is able to put himself in killing distance of big timber White River whitetails. Greg's preparation and planning provides him the confidence needed at that critical moment of the shot.

Jim Taylor, Arkansas Bowhunter

Prince of the Prairies

Kaycee Wyoming 2006 - Story of Jim and Gregs adventures in the sage brush valleys of Kaycee, WY to follow.

Dec 3 Whitetails

White River NWR Dec 3, 2004

Story by Jim Taylor, Arkansas Bowhunter

White River 2004- A watered down White River NWR bowhunt December 3,

One buck that  still makes me prideful  is a  public lands whitetail from the river bottoms of  South Arkansas.    

I was hunting in the North Unit of the White River National Wildlife refuge on a crisp cold December  morning.  December 3, 2004.    At about 10:30 am I heard this big brute as he sloshed through some water along a muddy trail that I was hunting.    He was approaching right to left and was on course to pass 20 yards in front of me.  At about 40 yards he changes course and starts to walk straight away from me.   My heart sinks as I watch this trophy as he strolls  out of my life.     Wait ... he stops.. he begins to feast on acorns at the base of a grand daddy  size  Nutall Oak tree about at about 20 yards off the  trial making him 45 to 50 yards away from my position.  Too far for this bowhunter to shoot.    With me watching nervously while hoping and praying for some kind of luck he turns back to the trail.    His rack is heavy and a dark chestnut in color.   He sports a tall rack of 9 points. As this guy meanders  closer and closer, I cant help but picture in my mind that I've already loaded this guy up and proudly showing him off to my hunting buddies.  

   He continues his confident  pace.  I come to full draw when he is directly  in front of me at  25 yards from the base of my 18" overcup tree that hold my Summit climber.  I force my to not look a the rack and focus on the point of aim and and let the arrow go.  

Northwest Territories 2002

I had scrambled my way along the rocky shore of the lake some one hundred and fifty stumbling yards. My destination was the base of the gray bouldered bluff that overlooked the Artillery Lake. Above me on top of the bluff was a lone bull caribou bedded out of sight some one hundred feet or so above me. Before the stalk I had made a mental note of a patch of green as a landmark to indicate where I should make my assent up the rocks. Of course now that I was there my landmark vaporized into a cloud of uncertainty. Was this the carpet of grass that I was seeing or is that olive green patch 60 yards further up the shore? Decisions, Decisions. Time was running out, if there's one thing I have learned about Barron Ground Caribou is that they are restless creatures, always on the move. I made the 2 second decision to scale it where I was, I shimmied out of my day pack and left it along with my wide brimmed hat at the base as I began my ascent up the bluff with bow in hand. The big bull had bedded up in a position to survey the open rolling tundra that seemed funnel into this point of the lake. I had caught a glimpse of the bulls antlers and ears scanning area below him like a radar some 45 minutes earlier.

The bluff where the bull was positioned is a series of chest high rocky elevations with lichen covered ledges on which to climb upon. The width of the ledges permitted me to climb on my hands and knees for eight or ten feet or so to the next elevated ridge. Always carefully peeking over the next rise with the anticipation that this is the ledge he will be on. As I peeked over the last bench it was only about 3 feet high so I had to belly crawl to the edge to peer over the edge onto the next flat. As I peered over the edge the first thing I see are the velveted sweeping antlers of the bull silhouetted against the skyline. He was standing directly in front of me and looking the opposite direction.

While kneeling I quietly nocked an arrow and began to range him. In the instant I peered though my range finder I could see his long sweeping rack and and double shovel rotate to lock in on my position. It was as if this majestic animal had sensed me. I froze with range finder glued to my eye while he stared me down 29 yards away. After an intense stare he began a fast walk to my left. I came to full draw and estimated him at 35 yards and released, but missed. Hhmm, imagine that! With this miss the caribou shifted into their trademark camel like trot. He disappeared over the ridge but running parallel to the lake. It was a remote chance I thought, but I could cut him off at the bottom of the ridge if I hurried. Caribou have short memories and will often trot out of sight only to immediately start feeding again. I thought I've got nothing to lose. What took me 15 minutes to climb up took me seconds to scale back down. After five days of hunting I again found myself in a familiar bent at the waist run to head off a caribou. Numerous daily half mile stalks in the open tundra had gotten me close several times only to have some unimagined turn of fate to keep the caribou just out of bow range. After five days I was a little wiser as to my predictions on intercepting a caribou.

As I hurdled from rock to rock along the bolder laden shore on another two hundred yard dash my Lacrosse boots were not offering much ankle support. The rubber boots were a strategic compromise with the many bogs that I managed to “muck” my way through in these barren ground valleys. Destiny would have it that he was ahead of me along the edge of the lake. I had the bluff to my back while I stalked to within the long side of my range. He simply paused at the edge of the lake as I ranged him again at 52 yard exactly. The flight of the arrow was easy to follow as it arced its way to the shoulder of the bull. Crack! The bull exploded in a blind run directly away from me.... and directly into the lake!

His swim was a short thirty yards though as the three blade Inner-Lok had found its mark. Wow,
finally a big beautiful caribou and possibly a Pope and Young class one at that. My elation was short lived as I realized my hard earned caribou was floating away from shore. Artillery lake is a huge lake feed by a series of rivers. Apparently there was a gentle current along this shore. My guide would not be back with the boat for at least two hours.

The decision to go swimming when you are 70 miles from the Arctic Circle in September is something not to be taken lightly. Earlier in the week the guides and the rest of the gang were discussing survivability in the event of a capsized boat. The odds weren't good.  I thought it out carefully for about three seconds. The key is keeping dry I said to my self. Off came my boots, clothes and thermals. I did leave my underwear on as even in the no mans lands of the North West Territories a man still needs his dignity.

The rocks beneath the cold waters surface were sharp and slippery. Every barefooted step was
excruciating, but I push on through the chilly water with my eyes focused on the floating prize. The frigid water is now chest deep and I am only feet away from the bull. Finally he is within reach and I stretch my hand out trying to avoid immersing my body any further into the icy lake than necessary. His vascular filled mahogany colored velvet antlers were welcome warmth to my cold numb fingers as they grasped him. In an instant I had gone from extreme trepidation and fear to feeling like nothing can go wrong now. With caribou in tow I made my way back to shore. After I was out of the water the beet red color from the top of my chest down served as an obvious indicator to the waters depth.

The speed in which I put my dry clothes and boots back on was impressive, but what was truly amazing was that I never got a chill or shiver during or after my arctic swim. Goes to show you what a good dose of adrenaline can do for you. Or was it shock?

Once I had my bull safely ashore I sat there on a rock in the silence that was occasionally broken up by the lapping of the waves from the lake and reflected on the experience. Reflecting not only of the taking of this bull but of the five hard hunting days leading up to it. Memories of many hunts grow foggy with time but I was certain this trip to the Canadian North West Territories was one that was one that will be etched a little deeper into my mind than the rest.

Jim Taylor
August 2002

Artillery Lake Adventures
Yellow Knife, NWT

Jim Taylor, Tom Nelson, Mac MacKool, Todd, Paul Barry.
Guide was Henry- Inuit Indian.

Caribou Hunt Preparations

Article by Jim Taylor

Thursday night
Last Packing Attempt Thursday August 15 11:23pm 2002

I packed three pieces of luggage for trip my to Artillery Lake in the Canadian North West Territories. The bush pilots had limited us to 70lbs of luggage plus a small carry on. We had to pack light and securely as I would be in and out of four aircraft as well as going through customs before arriving at our hunting location. Entries into my written journal show multiple attempts to reduce my total luggage weight and optimize my space inside two duffles and the available room in my bowcase. My first packing attempt on August 11, 2002 show that I had a total luggage weight of 73lbs. I ended up with the following:

Total weight of checked luggage:

Bow Case Contents:
Bow: Pearson Diamondback 29" at 63lb
Alpine quick-loc quiver
12 Epsilon Carbon Arrows
8 Inner Lock Broadheads (disassembled and packaged for the long flight)
Scott Release
2 piece spinning rod & real with tackle
Zip log bag of archery repair components- Nocking pliers, cable slides, noc sets, super glue, peep serving tool.
Gibbs Style Bow Sling
Lacrosse Lagrange Rubber boots
Duct Tape-For wrapping up bow case on return trip

Total weight of Bow Case loaded. 208 scales-184(my weight)=24lbs

Big Duffle Contents:
Rain Wear Suit by Nat Gear
Wind Breaker
Gloves
Turtle Neck
Camo Clothing 3-sets
Camo Under Shirts-3-sets
One Polo- Fall Foliage
Sock Regular-4
Socks- Over the Calf with Velco top wrap- 1
Cold Weather Jacket- Nat Gear

Hunting Pack
Binoculars- old 10X50
Bushnell Range Finder
Arm Guard
Garmin GPS

Weight: 212 scales-184(my weight)= 28lbs

Duffle-Camp Bag
Shaving kit and necessities
Underwear
Towel
Long johns
Camera Tripod-5lbs
Nikon 2020
Fishing Fanny Pack
Pillow
Sleeping Bag
Hiking Boots

204 0 scales-184(my weight)= 20lbs

Bow Case:


Carry On Camera Bag (not weighed)
Sony Video Camera
Charger
Extra Video Tapes
Extra Battery

Monsters of Manitoba-2001 Black Bear with Bow