“The guides carry shotguns with triple 000 buckshot, very lethal at close range, grizzly bear are protected, it would be easier to murder one of my hunters than kill a sacred bear. Do Not, I repeat, Do Not try to take away the bull elk your hunter has shot the night before and was to dark to properly quarter the animal. Bears hear the gunshots and since they are protected it's like ringing the dinner bell, they know there is fresh meat on the ground. I say let the bastard have the meat. We will claim the antlers later. You become very skilled at tearing an elk down to load on the pack horses when a grizzly is popping his jaws just inside the tree line. My personal best was 20 minutes…”
-Ishmael
Ishmael is a reader who lives and hunts in the Rocky Mountains. He has been helping me with background material for a mountain main story. The funny thing is—and he has pointed this out—he has basically described a trip to the liquor store in West Baltimore, only the sacred, vicious, brown, protected predator is a two-leg, not a four-leg, as Black Elk would have said.
Now, if bears could figure out over a few generations that they are protected by the federal government, how long do you think it would take an urban youth who dreams of thugdom with his every rapping breath, to figure out that he now has the social status and legal leverage of the Baltimore Cops that held this city down with a reign of terror for 30 years?
The answer is, less than a week.
Since the riots working blacks have been staying away from work in droves—hundreds having lost their jobs and thousand having had hours cut due to the economic impact of the riots and purge—afraid of the new lords of the city, of what they will do with the power the police once had.
City homicides are up from 69 in 2014 to 96 during the same period this year.
West Baltimore has hosted 20 homicides so far this year, to 21 in all of last year.
We have had our 164th nonfatal shooting, up 60% from last year, while fatal shootings are only up 40%, which means turf wars with new unseasoned players in the line of fire.
In a blink of the media’s disturbing eye Baltimore went back to the gory days of 1995, 20 years ago, when the drug gangs were taking over Baltimore and 1,000 homeowners per month fled the city. The salient difference is that Baltimore was then bringing in a hard ass New York cop to address the issues, where we now have a waffling bimbo mayor pulling the rug out from under her Uncle Tom police chief, and the police in full retreat, denying that they have any duty to protect anyone other than themselves—and who can blame them? A beaten force rarely takes time to save refugees as they retreat.
The days that made Baltimore worth writing about have returned, only my family is all now safely ensconced in the suburbs whence I evacuated them during the last race purge. Now I have a ringside seat, and a brawl is breaking out. We had three shootings last night and things are just beginning to get hot in the city.
I have long been critical of the war on drugs, as this federal initiative, enforced by local proxy police, has created a hardened and resourceful criminal class numbering between 2,000 and 5,000 strong in Baltimore. Once created by the oppressive campaign of police terror this many headed monster could only be made worse by one action, by calling back the police, by gutting BPD morale. This reminds me of another unjust, mismanaged, and gracelessly ended war, Vietnam, with the people of Baltimore now in the same position after the riots as the South Vietnamese were after that last U.S. helicopter got shoved into the sea.
I recall last year seeing a documentary about the reintroduction of wolves to Yellow Stone Park, and how they were wiping out the coyotes that had taken over their niche, with nary a Winchester packing human to keep them in check. Well, now that the BPD has stood down, and is no longer pulling security for weaker drug gangs, the stronger drug gangs who have felt the brunt of the BPD iron heel are coming back with a vengeance, a protected, sacred predator species reclaiming its place at the apex of the food chain.
It’s a good day to be writer in Baltimore.
James,
Again with the thanks for the continuing feed on the troubles. It is as though I am wealthy with a spy on the ground. The bear thing struck a chord, but was puzzling. When I go forth to kill my neighbors for meat I get tags for Doe Deer, Cow Elk and Bear. Always eat young females. Who needs some old thousand-point stringy bull? You can pick his rack up in a month or so anyway. I do not employ hunters, guides or beaters. I cannot fathom letting a bear eat an animal taken in fair chase. I go forth on my own to harvest my own land, and if a bear happens to come along I get a rug and a pile of greasy meat to boot. Be prepared always works.
Were I a churchy type of man I would pray for you in your chosen site. It seems to be sliding apart, and only so many paths will remain safe. I would find it hard to relax there. Still, it takes all types...and I'm starting to get your fiction.
Riley, they call me Ishmael, we did go back and recover the bull next morning. Problem was a large boar grizzly had claimed the elk for his own. One of the younger less experienced guides picked a fight with him,the bear charged and we almost became bear shit, I'm a paid assassin so I track down the animal that I am paid to do.I agree with you when it comes to hunting for myself, that is why I quit doing the job,I'm not a trophy hunter, have a lot more respect for a animal than most humans, but that's another story. The bear and I survived, if you really want to live and feel adrenaline rush piss off a grizzly.
PS Riley the grizzly are "Protected" we cannot shoot until they latch on to one of us, that was the point. They have no fear and respect no man, kind of like the hood rats in Baltimore.
I have no knowledge of the fabled Grizzly. We have 9 black bears in my canyon, and they are aggressive when it comes to quarreling over a kill.
I just hunt and keep a weapon at hand, including a heavy handgun in the armpit. Bears flow like water over terrain we cannot handle so quickly that one may well be caught out, and I do not belittle them. Still, they can pop their jaws all they like. It's just a heads-up.
I just hunt. I do not think of myself as an assassin, rather a fellow who prefers fresh, un-doctored meat. The seasons change and the world revolves. The Elk are calving as we chatter, and the deer are amazing. I can think of no better way to pay for my sins than to go down fighting over my next meal. But remember, I am old.
Protected you say? I would shoot the bastard down in an instant and work out the details at my leisure. Of course, I would do the same thing in Baltimore. Sorry, that's why I live apart.
Sorry Riley generally I would just leave this one alone, but here goes. If you get caught killing a grizzly in the wilderness you are arrested,you are subject to questioning by a federal agent of the Forest Service, if there are more than one of you they question u separated, making sure your story's are exactly the same. If you are lucky and have wounds to show they let you go, if not we'll grizzly are very expensive. I would lose my guide license forever. There are very few black bears in the wilderness the grizz eat them. We call black bears names like Bobo, Yogi, grizz have names like Conan the Destroyer, Grim Reaper, the Terminator, also assassin was a joke, ok and I'd rather eat young females any day too, more tender. Ishmael.
Ishmael,
You are involved in guided hunting and I am not. I am a novice compared to you fellows, and the problems I face are not yours. I abide by the law because "...to live outside the law you must be honest". I hunt only animals I am tagged for, and would never shoot a protected animal willy-nilly. But when the gun fires and the animal falls, man's law falls away for me and natural law takes over. This is sometimes an animal I have watched for days, and I am taking her on my own dirt. I am in no mood to back off, but probably would if it was a sow teaching her cub to raid. All things considered we have nothing to debate,except maybe calling black bears BOBO. They can be edgy. I already know how nasty the wildlife folks can be. Possibly more nasty than bears of any type.
A Postscript,
I seldom comment on anything anywhere I see it on the web. In this case though, I had been checking out a new bourbon; 1792 Ridgemont Reserve, a Bardstown product at 93.7 proof. $28! I saw this piece and took some "offense" over being run off a kill. I believe this is a nonsense thread at this point, and there is only one thing of which I am certain:
1792 is great for starting discussions over obscure points with strangers.
'Good thing it's the web.
Live well...Riley