TOWNSHIP 24, Maine — It has been a slow bear season at Eagle Mountain Guide Service so far this year — bears apparently are focusing on abundant blackberries rather than bait for now — but all it took was a squawking two-way radio to spur guides at into action Tuesday evening.
In the great room of his hunting lodge on Route 9 — “The Airline” — 50 miles east of Bangor, owner Matt Whitegiver perked up when he heard the voice of guide J.R. Mabee. “Can you come back again? Over,” Mabee said.
“Uh oh. We might have some action,” Whitegiver said, grinning.
They did. Five miles away, in the Washington County woods, hunter Matthew Cornman had shot a bear and was trying to hail his guides on the radio. A finicky signal left the guides curious and set them into motion. Ten minutes later, Mabee, who had driven toward higher ground in hopes of gaining a better radio signal with the hunter, checked back in with the magic words.
A bear was down.
Over the ensuing three hours or so, as is the custom in many of the state’s sporting lodges that host bear hunters during the season, the excitement was palpable. The bear was brought back to camp and weighed. Cornman, who lives in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, told his story a half-dozen times or more as more hunters returned to camp. Handshakes were offered and accepted.
You might think that this, the success of one of his hunters, is exactly what Whitegiver lives for during the four-week bait season.
But while Whitegiver is always pleased when one of the hunters fills a tag, there’s much more to a visit to a bear camp.
For the longtime guide, actually harvesting a bear is only one piece of what he wants to be a special total experience.
“I want [the bear camp experience] to be like it’s a group of friends going out hunting,” said 55-year-old Whitegiver, who has been guiding bear hunters for 17 years. He doesn’t want to play the role of a seemingly distant head guide. He’s often in the middle of conversations with the hunters, helping ensure they’re having a good time.
The hunters — who often arrive with a buddy, knowing none of other 10 or 12 hunters in camp — bond and often leave as friends.
Then, if Whitegiver and his guides have truly been successful, they’ll return in a year or two, whether they harvested a bear or not.
That, at least, is the goal. And at this camp on Route 9, that’s often just what happens.
Arrive as strangers
Matthew Cornman and his 31-year-old son, Shane, first visited Eagle Mountain Guide Service two years ago, after a fluke meeting between Shane and Whitegiver’s daughter.
On a flight from Colorado to the East Coast, the two began talking. Shane Cornman was a hunter. Whitegiver’s daughter, now 32, told him what her dad did for a living and fired up her iPad, showing off his website.
Before long, the Cornmans had booked a three-day bear hunting trip to Maine.
Neither bagged a bear when they visited in 2014, but both were hooked. Their hunt ended too soon, they agreed. They had a great time meeting and socializing with the other hunters in camp and began planning to return — this time for a full week.
“When I got here, it was just like you were at home,” Matthew Cornman said. “It’s a riot. … It’s a hoot. You torment everyone [in fun]. It’s a great time.”
Matthew Cornman especially appreciates the work of the guides and the friendly nature of the people they meet during their Maine travels. This year, after returning to Maine, he made sure to tell first-time hunters what he learned during his last trip here.
“Listen to the guides,” he said. “If he tells you something, listen. He does this for a living. This is what he does. Do what you’re told, and I guarantee you’ll see bears.”
On Tuesday, Shane Cornman saw a bear. He’d also seen three on Monday. And his dad saw one and filled his tag on a bear that showed up at the bait three times before he pulled the trigger. First, he said, he wanted to make sure the bear didn’t have cubs with it.
Then, Matthew Cornman became the first of this week’s hunters — most pay for a six-day hunt — to earn center stage at a post-hunt ritual.
Back in the lodge, an old bearskin rug is draped over a chair in a position of honor, you see. Successful hunters — or those who’ve seen interesting things — are required to sit in the chair, drape the hide over them and tell their tales.
Whitegiver doesn’t have a name for that bearskin yet, switching between “The Rug of Not Shame” or “The Story Rug” when describing it.
Matthew Cornman didn’t really care and looked forward to his time under the rug. He had earned it, after all.
“Matt said there’s no exceptions,” the hunter said. “It’s camp rules.”
And although another rule is unwritten and optional, it also seems to be part of the culture at the camp: Pitching in on camp projects can be a lot of fun.
Hunter builders
Bear hunting can provide an experience that’s a lot different than other hunts. For one thing, it’s not necessary to wake up early, like you might if you were targeting moose, deer or turkeys. Bear hunters typically don’t head into the woods until midafternoon, which leaves them plenty of time to enjoy themselves during the morning.
“You go to moose camp, and you never see the camp in daylight,” Whitegiver said. “You’re up at 4 o’clock in the morning, you’re gone before the sun comes up, and you come back and it’s dark. You spend a whole week at camp, and you never know what [the camp] looks like outside.”
At bear camp, that’s not the case. Some hunters go on morning ATV rides or find a spot to go fishing. And others volunteer their services to help out on camp projects.
On Tuesday, that meant building a deck that will help provide accessibility for an annual wounded warrior hunt, which takes place during the fourth week of the season.
“[The hunters] initiated this one,” Whitegiver said. “They said, ‘Oh, you’ve got the lumber. Let’s get her built.’”
That’s often the case, the guide said. And he joked that he likes to know what kind of trades the hunters have mastered, just in case he can find work for them.
“We’ve had guys work on trucks, guys work on generators,” Whitegiver said. “If there’s a problem, there are guys who want to fix it.”
Shane Cornman said pitching in comes naturally, and he’s glad to play a part in camp projects.
“We were always raised that way,” he said. “We were raised on a farm, and work is work, play is play. But if somebody needs some help, it don’t matter what we’re doing. We’re dropping everything to help ‘em. That’s all this is: helping [Whitegiver] out.”
On Tuesday, four of the 13 hunters in camp tackled the deck project in the morning and made good progress. After hunting and a home-cooked meal prepared by Whitegiver’s wife, Lisa, they adjourned to the great room, where they could play pool or foosball or just tell stories.
Watching hunters who were strangers just two days before interact as new friends is one of the things Whitegiver looks forward to.
“That’s my favorite part,” he said. “Bear hunting and the success of bear hunting is exciting. But relationships you build and the friendships you make, especially when they come back? I love it.”
So, too, do the Cornmans.
“We come here, it’s just like going to a family function,” Shane Cornman said. “Really good people. Everybody here’s from a different state. Some of ‘em’s farmers, some of ‘em’s construction workers, I work in the oil fields. But everyone gets along. It doesn’t matter who you are. You start a conversation.”
After Tuesday’s successful hunt, Matthew Cornman learned that his role in camp soon would change. For the rest of the week, having filled his tag, he wouldn’t be joining the others in the woods each afternoon.
And Lisa Whitegiver, the head cook, was thrilled at the news.
“That’s great!” she said. “Now I have help in the kitchen.”
As is the camp custom, Matthew Cornman took that news in good spirits.
“I was a short-order cook once,” he said. “Sign me up.”
And no matter how his son’s hunt progresses this week, no matter what he may be asked to do in the kitchen, he said he’s sure of one thing.
“I will be back again,” he said. “I guarantee I’ll be back again.”
