The Bear Hunter

By inclination and declaration, old Bill Hulet is close kin to such folk heroes as Pecos Bill, Paul Bunyan and Mike Fink. And when there is boasting to be done, Bill will talk as loud and as long as any ring-tailed roarer that ever lived. "Born under a stump, suckled on sow bear milk and raised in jail," he proclaims. "I know every root in these parts, every huckleberry meadow, bee tree, strand of swamp grass and skunk-cabbage patch. To hunt bears, you've got to be as tough as a good old bear dog. Well, I'm tough, and I'm the best there is." He is probably right.

Son of a logging-camp foreman in the State of Washington, Hulet got his first bear at the age of twelve, has since killed 3,159 more in a lifetime dedicated to prowling the great woods of the Olympic Peninsula. Hulet refers to himself respectfully as "Bear Bill," is so thoroughly devoted to the hunt that he is fully at ease only in the woods. Around people, Hulet wears an air of perpetual apprehension. Bulky and rounded (5 ft. 10 1/2 in., 240 Ibs.), Hulet lumbers over the ground like the bear he hunts. And when he draws on his huge bearskin cape, Bill Hulet even looks like a bear.

Trees & Holes. Hulet's hunting is a happy blend of avocation and vocation. He is a professional who is paid $475 a month (plus a $25 bonus for every kill) by Rayonier, Inc. to hunt black bears on 600 sq. mi. of forest land. Though timbermen have only recently realized it, the black bear is a major threat to lumbering. Hungry bears strip the bark from young Douglas fir trees to get at the sweet sap. One bear can damage 1.200 trees in a single season, and foresters estimate that bears annually destroy 100 trees for every one destroyed by fire.

Bill Hulet's technique on the hunt stems from years of studying the stomachs of his kills to discover the black bear's feeding habits (grass and fir buds in April, crab apples in October). "Some bears turn carnivorous just afore they go into hibernation and go after calves and chickens." says Hulet. "If I know what they're eating, I know where to find 'em." To corner them, Hulet uses half a dozen hounds of his own special mongrel breed: one-quarter pit bull, one-eighth Australian cattle dog, and the remainder Redbone or Walker hound. Explains Hulet: "Thoroughbred hounds don't have the courage that crosses do. The pit bull in 'em makes 'em vicious and tenacious. The cattle dog in 'em gives 'em enough sense to snap and get out of the way. You ought to have spotted coats, too. Bears are so nearsighted they can see a spotted dog better, and that will make them quicker to tree or turn to fight."

At 61, Bill Hulet can still lope for 15 miles on a single chase. When he trees a bear after dark, Hulet will take to a tree himself to wait out the night rather than risk a shot that might hit a leaping dog. Hulet has even gone to earth after a bear, pulling his dogs out of the tunnel by their tails until he could get into the hole for the shot at a range of 3 ft.

"Side by Side." Last week, settling back for a winter's hibernation in his white bungalow in Aberdeen, Hulet calculated his season's kills at 56, fretted to his wife about a lost dog ("Queen's a part of me, kind of wildlike and vicious to everyone but me"), and spun yarns to a visitor about great hunts of the past: "The closest call I've ever knowed, I shot a bear at close range that was tearin' at the dogs. The bear he jumped up and leaped right at me. I shot him in the air and jumped sideways, fallin' full length on wet leaves. The bear flopped down just exactly where I was at before I leaped aside. Shot clean through the head, but still had some fight left. For a few moments, there we was, lyin' side by side, I and the bear, but not peaceful-like, him thrashin' around until he died."

After a lifetime of bear hunting, Bear Bill Hulet has an intense admiration for the intelligence of his quarry. He hunts because the bear is a challenge, rationalizes his career by citing the damage done by the animal: "I look out over all those little trees comin' up, thousands and thousands of 'em, just astandin' on some hilltop or other, and I think to myself, 'Bill, all those trees are for you to take care of and raise up.' And that's what I've been doing all these years, looking out over trees."

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