Brian's Hunt (Brian's Saga Series #5)

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More About This Book

Overview

Millions of readers of Hatchet, The River, Brian’s Winter, and Brian’s Return know that Brian Robeson is at home in the Canadian wilderness. He has stood up to the challenge of surviving alone in the woods. He prefers being on his own in the natural world to civilization.

When Brian finds a dog one night, a dog that is wounded and whimpering, he senses danger. The dog is badly hurt, and as Brian cares for it, he worries about his Cree friends who live north of his camp. His instincts tell him to head north, quickly. With his new companion at his side, and with a terrible, growing sense of unease, he sets out to learn what happened. He sets out on the hunt.

Two years after having survived a plane crash into the Canadian wilderness, a sixteen-year-old returns to the wild to befriend a wounded dog and hunt a rogue bear.

Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble
Brian's back! Gary Paulsen's nature-loving hero -- a hit with readers in bestsellers like Hatchet and Brian's River -- becomes a hunter with a mission in this suspenseful, adventurous novel that will keep you alert until the very end. With storytelling prowess that shoots as straight as an arrow, Paulsen takes his character back to the Canadian woods, where Brian lives off the land in the hope of connecting with nature. Brian keeps busy taking in his surroundings and hunting northern pike, but when a stray, battered dog suddenly appears, the curious boy patches up its wounds and decides to learn where it comes from. At first -- with the aid of senses sharpened by the wilderness -- Brian finds it easy enough to uncover the dog's past, but after he makes a gruesome discovery, the boy quickly becomes the hunter in a matter of life and death. Paulsen's newest Brian book hits the mark dead-on with powerful themes, pitting the hero against nature while exploring the bond between humans and dogs. The author thoughtfully includes an afterword, and with plenty of action and descriptive hunting scenes in this quick-moving novel, Paulsen's fans will surely be thirsty for more.
The Washington Post
As always, Paulsen spins a fast-paced tale, characterized by a refusal either to soften the often gruesome details of life in the bush (here, partially eaten bodies, wounds riddled with fly eggs and worms) or to romanticize wildlife (in this case, bears). — Elizabeth Ward
More Reviews (1) Fewer Reviews
From The Critics
In Gary Paulsen's latest, Brian's Hunt, Brian has traveled back to his beloved Canadian wilderness. Although Brian's Return (2001) was to be the last in the series, here the acclaimed hero hunts for a bear that has attacked his friends. With an ever-reverent view toward the power of nature, the author delivers another suspenseful adventure. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780385746472
  • Publisher: Random House Children's Books
  • Publication date: 12/23/2003
  • Pages: 103
  • Sales rank: 524,416
  • Age range: 10 - 14 Years
  • Lexile: 1180L (what's this?)
  • Series: Brian's Saga Series, #5
  • Product dimensions: 5.95 (w) x 8.55 (h) x 0.59 (d)

Meet the Author

Gary Paulsen
Gary Paulsen

Gary Paulsen is one of the most honored writers of contemporary literature for young readers. He has written more than one hundred book for adults and young readers, and is the author of three Newbery Honor titles: Dogsong, Hatchet, and The Winter Room. He divides his time among Alaska, New Mexico, Minnesota, and the Pacific.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

He was in his world again. He was back.

It was high summer coming to fall and Brian was back in the far reaches of wilderness—or as he thought of it now, home. He had his canoe and bow and matches and this time he'd added some dried food, beans and rice and sugar. He also had a small container of tea, which he'd come to enjoy. He had a small cook set, and a can to make little fires in the middle of the canoe; he put leaves on to make smoke to drive the flies and gnats and mosquitoes away. He had some salt and pepper and, almost a treat, matches. He still could not get over how wonderful it was to just be able to make a fire when he wanted one, and he never sat down to a cook fire without smiling and remembering when his life in the wilderness had begun. His first time alone.

He dreamt of it often and at first his dreams sometimes had the qualities of nightmares. He dreamt he was sitting there in the small plane, the only passenger, with the pilot dying and the plane crashing into the lake below. He awakened sometimes with sudden fear, his breath coming fast. The crash itself had been so wild and he had been so out of control that the more he had grown in the years since, the more he had learned and handled difficult situations, the more insane the crash seemed; a wild, careening, ripping ride down through trees to end not in peace but in the water, nearly drowning—in the nightmares it was like dying and then not dying to die again.

But the bad dreams were rare, rarer all the time, and when he had them at all now they were in the nature of fond memories of his first months alone in the bush, or even full-blown humor: the skunk that had moved in with him and kept the bear away; how Brian had eaten too many gut berries, which he'd later found were really called chokecherries (a great name, he thought); a chickadee that had once landed on his knee to take food from his hand.

He had been . . . young then, more than two years ago. He was still young by most standards, just sixteen. But he was more seasoned now and back then he had acted young—no, that wasn't quite it either. New. He had been new then and now he was perhaps not so new.

He paused in his thinking and let the outside world come into his open mind. East edge of a small lake, midday, there would be small fish in the reeds and lily pads, sunfish and bluegills, good eating fish, and he'd have to catch some for his one hot meal a day. Sun high overhead, warm on his back but not hot the way it had been earlier in the week; no, hot but not muggy. The summer was drying out, getting ready for fall. Loon cry off to the left, not distress, not a baby lost to pike or musky; the babies would be big enough now to evade danger on their own, almost ready to fly, and would not have to ride on their mother's backs for safety as they did when they were first hatched out.

He was close in on the lily pads and something moved suddenly in the brush just up the bank, rustling through the thick, green foliage, and though it sounded big and made a lot of noise he knew it was probably a squirrel or even a mouse. They made an inordinate amount of noise as they traveled through the leaves and humus on the ground. And there was no heavy footfall feeling as there would be with a moose or deer or bear, although bear usually were relatively quiet when they moved.

High-pitched screeeeee of hawk or eagle hunting and calling to his or her mate; he couldn't always tell yet between the cry of hawk and eagle.

A yip of coyote, not wolf because it was not deep enough, and not a call, not a howl or a song but more a yip of irritation.

He had heard that yip before when he'd watched a coyote hunting mice by a huge old pine log. The log had holes beneath it from one side to the other and the mice could dance back and forth beneath the log through the holes, while the coyote had to run around the end, or jump over the top, and the mice simply scurried back and forth under it to avoid him. The coyote tried everything, hiding, waiting, digging a hole big enough for himself under the log so he could move back and forth, but nothing worked. After over an hour of trying to get at the mice, he finally stood on top of the log looking down one side, then the other, raised his head and looked right at Brian as if he'd known Brian was there the whole time, and gave an irritated, downright angry yip. It was, Brian felt, a kind of swearing.

Up ahead four hundred yards, a moose was feeding in the lily pads, putting its head underwater to pull up the succulent roots, and Brian knew it would be an easy kill if he wanted it. Canoes seemed such a part of nature to the animals in the wild—perhaps they thought canoes were logs—and if a person kept very still it was often possible to glide right up next to an animal near the water. In many states it was illegal to hunt from a canoe for just that reason. Brian had once canoed up next to and touched a fawn standing in the shallows. And with feeding moose it was simpler yet; all you had to do was scoot forward when the moose had its head underwater and coast when its head was up, looking around.

Brian had plenty of arrows: a dozen and a half field points with sixty extra points and a hundred extra shafts and equipment to make more arrows, and two dozen broadhead arrows as well as fifty extra broadhead points with triple-blade heads the military had designed for covert work many years before. These were called MA 3s. Deadly. And if sharpened frequently, they were strong enough to reuse many times if you didn't hit a bone or miss and catch a rock.

Looking at the moose, he salivated, thinking of the red meat and how it would taste roasted over a fire. But then he decided against it. The moose was a small bull, probably only six or seven hundred pounds, and nowhere near the fourteen or fifteen hundred pounds a large bull would weigh, but even so it was a lot of meat to deal with and he couldn't bring himself to waste anything he killed. He had gone hungry so long when he had first come to the bush. . . . Food had been everything and the thought of wasting any of it went against every instinct in his body. Even if he made a smoke fire and dried most of it in strips he would still lose some meat. . . .

Still, he could see the shot. Close to the moose, close in but far enough away to avoid an attack, the bow already strung. Wait until he ducked under to draw the bow and then as soon as the head came up release the MA 3 just in back of the shoulder, under the shoulder blade and the broadhead would go straight into the heart. . . .

First Chapter

Chapter 1


He was in his world again. He was back.

It was high summer coming to fall and Brian was back in the far reaches of wilderness--or as he thought of it now, home. He had his canoe and bow and matches and this time he'd added some dried food, beans and rice and sugar. He also had a small container of tea, which he'd come to enjoy. He had a small cook set, and a can to make little fires in the middle of the canoe; he put leaves on to make smoke to drive the flies and gnats and mosquitoes away. He had some salt and pepper and, almost a treat, matches. He still could not get over how wonderful it was to just be able to make a fire when he wanted one, and he never sat down to a cook fire without smiling and remembering when his life in the wilderness had begun. His first time alone.

He dreamt of it often and at first his dreams sometimes had the qualities of nightmares. He dreamt he was sitting there in the small plane, the only passenger, with the pilot dying and the plane crashing into the lake below. He awakened sometimes with sudden fear, his breath coming fast. The crash itself had been so wild and he had been so out of control that the more he had grown in the years since, the more he had learned and handled difficult situations, the more insane the crash seemed; a wild, careening, ripping ride down through trees to end not in peace but in the water, nearly drowning--in the nightmares it was like dying and then not dying to die again.

But the bad dreams were rare, rarer all the time, and when he had them at all now they were in the nature of fond memories of his first months alone in the bush, or even full-blown humor: the skunk that hadmoved in with him and kept the bear away; how Brian had eaten too many gut berries, which he'd later found were really called chokecherries (a great name, he thought); a chickadee that had once landed on his knee to take food from his hand.

He had been . . . young then, more than two years ago. He was still young by most standards, just sixteen. But he was more seasoned now and back then he had acted young--no, that wasn't quite it either. New. He had been new then and now he was perhaps not so new.

He paused in his thinking and let the outside world come into his open mind. East edge of a small lake, midday, there would be small fish in the reeds and lily pads, sunfish and bluegills, good eating fish, and he'd have to catch some for his one hot meal a day. Sun high overhead, warm on his back but not hot the way it had been earlier in the week; no, hot but not muggy. The summer was drying out, getting ready for fall. Loon cry off to the left, not distress, not a baby lost to pike or musky; the babies would be big enough now to evade danger on their own, almost ready to fly, and would not have to ride on their mother's backs for safety as they did when they were first hatched out.

He was close in on the lily pads and something moved suddenly in the brush just up the bank, rustling through the thick, green foliage, and though it sounded big and made a lot of noise he knew it was probably a squirrel or even a mouse. They made an inordinate amount of noise as they traveled through the leaves and humus on the ground. And there was no heavy footfall feeling as there would be with a moose or deer or bear, although bear usually were relatively quiet when they moved.

High-pitched screeeeee of hawk or eagle hunting and calling to his or her mate; he couldn't always tell yet between the cry of hawk and eagle.

A yip of coyote, not wolf because it was not deep enough, and not a call, not a howl or a song but more a yip of irritation.

He had heard that yip before when he'd watched a coyote hunting mice by a huge old pine log. The log had holes beneath it from one side to the other and the mice could dance back and forth beneath the log through the holes, while the coyote had to run around the end, or jump over the top, and the mice simply scurried back and forth under it to avoid him. The coyote tried everything, hiding, waiting, digging a hole big enough for himself under the log so he could move back and forth, but nothing worked. After over an hour of trying to get at the mice, he finally stood on top of the log looking down one side, then the other, raised his head and looked right at Brian as if he'd known Brian was there the whole time, and gave an irritated, downright angry yip. It was, Brian felt, a kind of swearing.

Up ahead four hundred yards, a moose was feeding in the lily pads, putting its head underwater to pull up the succulent roots, and Brian knew it would be an easy kill if he wanted it. Canoes seemed such a part of nature to the animals in the wild--perhaps they thought canoes were logs--and if a person kept very still it was often possible to glide right up next to an animal near the water. In many states it was illegal to hunt from a canoe for just that reason. Brian had once canoed up next to and touched a fawn standing in the shallows. And with feeding moose it was simpler yet; all you had to do was scoot forward when the moose had its head underwater and coast when its head was up, looking around.

Brian had plenty of arrows: a dozen and a half field points with sixty extra points and a hundred extra shafts and equipment to make more arrows, and two dozen broadhead arrows as well as fifty extra broadhead points with triple-blade heads the military had designed for covert work many years before. These were called MA 3s. Deadly. And if sharpened frequently, they were strong enough to reuse many times if you didn't hit a bone or miss and catch a rock.

Looking at the moose, he salivated, thinking of the red meat and how it would taste roasted over a fire. But then he decided against it. The moose was a small bull, probably only six or seven hundred pounds, and nowhere near the fourteen or fifteen hundred pounds a large bull would weigh, but even so it was a lot of meat to deal with and he couldn't bring himself to waste anything he killed. He had gone hungry so long when he had first come to the bush. . . . Food had been everything and the thought of wasting any of it went against every instinct in his body. Even if he made a smoke fire and dried most of it in strips he would still lose some meat. . . .

Still, he could see the shot. Close to the moose, close in but far enough away to avoid an attack, the bow already strung. Wait until he ducked under to draw the bow and then as soon as the head came up release the MA 3 just in back of the shoulder, under the shoulder blade and the broadhead would go straight into the heart. . . .


From the Hardcover edition.

Copyright© 2003 by Gary Paulsen
Customer Reviews
Average Rating 4.5
( 77 )

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 9, 2012

    Mistybreeze

    Alrighty.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 28, 2011

    Can't stop reading it

    Ths book is freakin awesome

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 13, 2011

    I Also Recommend:

    Great

    this book is amazing. hope there will be more. It's one of the best.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 3, 2012

    Loading...

    Loading

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 1, 2012

    To bad the stars can't go into negitives

    Horrible Book, why dosent the kid just die already!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 29, 2012

    Gooh

    Good book

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 25, 2012

    OMG LOVED IT!!!

    So this is a siper GREAT book if you've read all of the Brian books. It keeps you on edge. And the ending is not what you think... or is it?????

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 11, 2012

    This book stinks

    Blehhhhh its soo boring and suckish :P

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 9, 2012

    Skunkpaw

    *pickes up his squirral and shrew and runs back to camp*. Skunkpaw

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 8, 2012

    Asome

    Good book its a little bit sad i hope Gary makes another book

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  • Posted December 12, 2011

    Good book

    Introduction: When was the last time you read a survival book? Brains Hunt is an outstanding reader¿s book. If you like survival you will love this book. You can feel his pain of starvation when he is stuck in the wilderness and forced to make tools to survive in the wilderness. Will he make it out alive?

    Description and summary of main Brian¿s Hunt is a great book especially because you can feel his survival and what it¿s like to survive in the wild and fight off wild animals and make arrows and other stuff from the wild. He is alone for so long he forgets what its like to be around others. Due to being secluded for so long he loses grip of life.

    Evaluation He learned new things has he survived. Like in winter if trees get to cold they explode. I think it was amazing the things I learned from this book

    Conclusion In my opinion I didn¿t like the first book and I ended up never reading it because it wasn¿t really good I didn¿t like it. I read the second and third book but never the first it isn¿t very important.

    Your final review I liked the book I thought it was a great series.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 3, 2011

    Please write anthor brain book

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  • Posted November 4, 2011

    the best book i've read

    The bush isn't the same for everybody some see scary trees and shrubs others see a forest teaming full of life. I loved this book because of the training for survival and adventure. Gary Paulsen has outdone his self in this thrilling survival adventure. Also if you liked this book you will like the rest of the brain books also by Gary Paulsen. I absolutely love this book because of the fact that I am the outdoorsy kind.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 21, 2011

    Really good!

    I think the book is absolutely fantabolous!

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 3, 2011

    It stinks

    People like, die! I got so sad! But it has a very strang ending.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted September 13, 2011

    Great

    Best in the series...crazy ending!!!!!!!!!

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  • Posted May 26, 2011

    Love it

    This is the best book ever

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  • Posted May 16, 2011

    duuuudddddeeee

    This book is for the type of people that like the outdoors. His book has elements of mystery and suspense with kind of a twist ending. The series has great character development but there isn't much dialoge and you will find yourself rooting for Brian in this book like all the others.

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  • Posted May 9, 2011

    Justin Bishop

    Justin Bishop
    7th hour
    9/5/11
    Brian's Hunt

    The story is about a boy who ends up going camping and ends up getting lost. And having to find his way back home in the middle of the woods. The boy named Brian will have to face his fears and will have to travel at a certain time because there is something following him something not humanlike it's so hard to explain. To find out more you will have to read this book.

    The main character was Brian.
    Brian had to find his way back home in the middle of the woods.
    Brian had ran in to many problems such as a Bear.
    Brian was my favorite character because he believed in him self that he was going to get out.
    This book is one of my favorite because every time I read further it get so exciting. I would prefer every one to read this book because its non stop excitement.
    My least favorite part in the book was when Brian was lost and as everything got worse he was attacked by a bear.

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  • Posted March 30, 2010

    This book is about a teenage about that gets stranded in Northern Canada, for the second time because earlier in the series.

    As Brian is trying to survive in the harsh winter of Canada; only having a hatchet, a 22 cal. Rifle with 50 rounds. The most interesting and exciting part in the story to me would be when he was hunting the moose or when he was attacked by the bear. There was also a very special dog in the story that got wounded but was strong enough to survive. This dog always returns to Brian after leaving.

    Evaluation: This story would be good for anyone liking adventure books.

    Conclusion: I was very interested in this book and it made me want to keep reading. It would be my favorite series, but my favorite book in this series would have to be hatchet.

    Final review: Very good book, couldn't quit reading it.

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