ROANOKE TIMES 
                      Copyright (c) 1997, Roanoke Times

DATE: Thursday, January 9, 1997              TAG: 9701100029
SECTION: SPORTS                   PAGE: B-3  EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN
OUTDOORS


SMALL FRY PROVED HE WAS UP TO BEAR OF A TASK

Now that the big bear is his, 13-year old Justin Fry isn't certain what he is going to do with it.

Neither is his dad. Nor his mom, who suggested, ``Maybe build an extra room onto the house.''

What is certain, Justin, who lives in Millboro, killed a bear that has been the talk of Bath County and beyond. It weighed 420 pounds and reportedly stood 7 1/2-feet tall.

Mark Griffin, who writes for The Recorder in Monterey, called it ``perhaps the largest bear ever killed in Bath County.''

``I know I am 42 years old and I never have seen anything like it before,`` said Justin's dad, Ricky. ``I killed one in Albemarle County two years ago, about a 150- to 160-pound bear, and it dwarfs mine.''

Justin and Ricky, along with Marty Plecker and two other friends, were on a late-season muzzleloading deer hunt when the bear was killed near a rigid top that separates two farms.

``I guess you could say that we were on a drive, but we call it a controlled hunt,'' said Ricky.

The technique is to seat some hunters on stands, then have a couple of stalkers move quietly through the woods with the idea of spooking a deer their way. The hunters keep in touch with radios.

One of the drivers, Marty, came across a spot where an animal had dug a hole in the black soil and heaped a circle of leaves around it as if to make a bed.

``I've come upon something and I'm not sure what it is,'' Marty reported into his radio.

A few minutes later, Marty had it figured out and the word ``bear'' came crackling from the radio.

In a follow-up report he said, ``I've found its tracks and they look fresh. Don't get too excited because it doesn't look like it has a very big foot.''

During the early muzzleloading deer season, Marty had spotted a modest-size bear in the region. Maybe the same one, he was thinking.

Justin was on a stand, just over the peak of a ridge. A hunter since age 8, he had proved himself so competent that his parents had given him a black-powder gun in October for his 13th birthday, and his dad was confident enough to let him occupy a stand by himself this season. He had killed a spike buck in November with his new rifle.

When 20 minutes had passed, following Marty's reports, thoughts of a bear had evaporated, Justin said. In fact, he was doubting if he'd see a deer. There had been no shots and no sounds of animals moving across dry leaves.

Then Justin spotted something big and shiny black angling up the ridge toward him.

``He was 40 to 50 yards when I first saw the bear,'' Justin said. ``I saw him before I heard him. He really didn't make any noise.''

Later Justin would say he didn't have time to get nervous. ``I just saw the bear and said, `Oh Boy!'''

The youngster shouldered his .50-caliber Knight black-powder rifle and sent a paralyzing shot into the animal.

``He just hit the ground right then and rolled down the hill,'' said Justin. ``I ran right down the hill after it.''

Ricky heard the distant shot.

``I thought it was one of the guys who was lucky enough to get a deer,'' he said.

Then Marty's excited voice was on the radio: ``Justin, be cool, the bear's down, stay where you are at.''

When Ricky realized it was a bear, he admitted that his thoughts turned negative - all that effort to get the animal out of the woods, bear meat to fool with, no doubt a taxidermist bill for a head mount. But that changed quickly when he walked up to the animal.

``When I saw it, it took me a couple of days to believe what the kid had.''

``I want a life-size mount, dad,'' were the first words he heard Justin say.

``Why not,'' Ricky thought. ``You might go 20 lifetimes before another bear that size comes along.''

Never mind the $1,800 taxidermist bill. Never mind there really isn't room in the house for a 420-pound bear, he said.

The male bear had thick fur, a bull-size neck and a huge, broad head, which means its skull should score well in state competition.

- Mark Griffin contributed information for this column.


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