BALTIMORE _ Had he tussled with that black bear recently, John Kennedy would have lost. Kennedy weighs 150 pounds; the bear peering at him from the edge of a ravaged Allegany County farm field weighed nearly four times that. But Kennedy had a rifle, and the bear had a belly full of corn.
One shot did it. Kennedy struck the animal in the chest. The bear stumbled 50 yards before collapsing _ a 559-pound prize for the 24-year-old Flintstone resident and the second largest ever taken in the 13-year history of the Maryland bear hunt.
The four-day event that ended Thursday landed a record 167 bears, 72 more than the previous high of 95 in 2015. For the first time, this year's hunt broadened from the westernmost counties of Garrett and Allegany to include Washington and Frederick counties. Animal rights activists have decried the kill as a trophy hunt for creatures that reportedly pose no threat to man; state officials say the "harvest" keeps the bear population in check.
"It's a banner year. I'm very happy with the numbers," said Harry Spiker, black bear project leader for the Maryland Department of Natural Resources. "This is what we were looking for when we expanded the harvest and increased the number of permits (from 500 to 750). The last few (hunts) were really conservative; the bear population is in really good shape."
State officials estimate Maryland is home to 2,000 adult and sub-adult black bears, and that they are gradually migrating east. This year, most (126) were killed in Garrett County, though a record number (30) were taken in Allegany. Eight bears were shot in Washington County, and three in Frederick.
Kennedy's bear missed the record by 56 pounds, as a 615-pounder was killed in 2007.
"He looked enormous. He was covered with briers and had a bald patch on one side," Kennedy said of the bear, shot on the cusp of a nine-acre corn field on his family's farm. He said the bear had "been hanging around" the area on Town Creek Road for some time, upsetting trash cans and spooking livestock, though never hurting them.
"He's been a problem bear for two years," said Travis Heavner, Kennedy's stepfather. "I planted three acres of (feed) corn and he mauled much of it."
On Monday _ the first day of the hunt _ the men spotted the bear running into the cornfield and set about to flush him out. Heavner strode in among the rows of seven-foot stalks to try and chase the bear into the open.
"I was a little nervous," Heavner said. "The corn was so thick, I couldn't see much. He (the bear) hung tight until I was within 30 feet, and then took off. He ran out of the field, stopped dead in his tracks and looked at John, who shot him."
Afterward, while inspecting the field, Kennedy found the bear's favorite chow spots.
"He'd just sit in one place, eat all of the corn within arm's reach, and then move a bit," he said.
Kennedy, who works at a recycling plant, plans to have a rug made of the bear's hide and bologna, steaks and sausage of the meat.
As word spread of his kill, Kennedy received many calls and texts.
"Most were congratulations," he said. "A couple of people asked why we didn't relocate him, but if you're not a hunter, you just don't understand. It's a whole different feeling when you can hunt something that can hunt you back."
For an instant, Heavner said, he questioned the kill.
"As we were gutting the bear, I felt sorry for him. He had been there for a long time," Heavner said. "But the more I thought about how much corn he'd torn up, well, it didn't faze me after that."
Kennedy scored on what was his first bear hunt; likewise Gladys Moreland, 76, who bagged a 209-pounder on a neighbor's farm near Oakland in Garrett County.
"I used to go fox-hunting on horseback," said Moreland, a onetime thoroughbred owner whose horses raced at Laurel and Pimlico. "I've killed animals in the past, and while I'm not crazy about it, I did want to hunt bears."
On last Monday morning, she settled into a tree stand with her .30-30 rifle _ "and a potty chair, just in case" _ and waited. And waited.
"I didn't see nothin' but a fly," Moreland said, "so I started walking. And there he was, 40 yards away. I found a tree and used it to brace me, because my knees were shaking. I took one shot and he jumped, ran 20 feet and dropped. He didn't even see me."
Inspecting her kill, she found "a beautiful animal, black and shiny."
"He was 5, maybe 6 years old and had some BBs lodged in his head," Moreland said. "I blew his heart out, so he didn't suffer. I felt sorry for him. I don't want to shoot another one."
This bear, she'll have mounted to stand in the cabin that Moreland and her fiance are building near Swallow Falls.
"The place already looks like a morgue," she said. "We have one half of a deer, a ram with a hat hanging from its horns and a boar head. But that one is kind of ugly."
Raised in southern Maryland, Moreland has fallen for the rugged western landscape.
"I love the woods," she said. "It keeps you young, and walking, and that's really important. And when you're hunting, you forget your problems and disappointments in life, and you just enjoy God's world."
Having shot a bear, Moreland can cross that off her bucket list.
"They say life begins at 80," she said. "I hope to do better than the bear did."
