Here are examples of "Two footer's"...two foot of bear, plus the base, in both black and brown.

Here's a couple of Jacob Welcome bears. I make them in two sizes, Big Jake, at least 3 foot, and Little Jake, a two foot bear.  The lettering is handcarved by Mom.

Here's a "Johnny Pants Down." A little bear having a tough time keeping his britches up.  I leave his backside naked, and they draw quite a chuckle from folks sometimes.  You can see him here from the front, side, and back.

Here are some shots of my bears on stumps.  I really enjoy sawing these pieces, and my best carving has been in these.  I try to go for a more adult bear look as compared to Dad's cubs.   There is always a space sawed between at least one leg and the tree. 

Here's one with the white V throat patch a percentage of black bear have.

The bear I'm working on in the left, and very top photo, came out like this, on the right. His name is Oscar.

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We get a lot of comments on the beautiful finishing done on our bears. That's all Mom. She does a lot of hard work on these carvings. Nothing is just slapped on with a quick coat of this or that.  Thanks Ma for your hard work and being able to bring these bears to life.

Thanks for having a look around, I'll try to update with a fresh photo or two every once in a while.

This bear below I harvested in Dunn Co.  just out of Prairie Farm a little ways.  The live bear and the mount are the same bruin. I really like Black Bears, their just plain cool I guess. 

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We are dedicating this page to our loving son Mike who left us tragically on February 18, 2003 at 33 years of age. He was my carving buddy, turkey hunting guide, and the gentlest, big hearted man you'd ever want to meet. This page is being left just as he built it in his memory. We all love you Mike.  Dad, Mom, Babe and Nik

Springtime In The Wildwood

On the ridge where the warm spring winds blow

Adove the trees in the morning skies pink glow

I know it's there we will meet again

In the spring time in the wildwoods at dawn.

It is way up high where the cardinal sings

On the ridge in the rising morning sun

Some times it seems he sings to me

In the spring time in the wildwoods at dawn.

When a gobble from an old bird rings long

Breaking silence in the early morning dawn

I know it's there we will meet again

In the spring time in the wildwoods at dawn.

When the Barred Owl takes silent flight

Cross the valley in the pale moonlight

It almost seems that he calls out to me

In the spring time in the wildwoods at dawn.

As I gaze across that low foggy holler

I can't keep the tears from my eyes

I will always recall the great times we shared

In the spring time in the wildwoods at dawn.

In the shade where the wild trilliums grow

That is the place that I want to go

I know that we will meet there again

In the spring time in the wildwoods at dawn.

Written by Jerry Zebro, Mikes very good 'Turk' buddy.

Mike Luer {May 10,1969-Feb 18, 2003}

I had a friend,

His name was Mike.

He knew just how,

To make fish bite.

But when those fish,

Refused to bite,

He'd turn his attention,

To birds of flight.

He'd sneak through the woods,

Staying out of sight,

Those turkeys would answer,

His call with delight. 

Just one more time,

I'm sure Mike would smile,

To just hear that turkey call,

Once in awhile.

But the time has come,

We know we must part.

There's that empty feeling,

Down deep in our heart.

So I will offer this reminder,

There really is no end.

Cause in my heart I truly feel,

That Mike is held in God's right hand.

So to the family,

Of my beloved friend.

This little message,

I will send.

Do not cry,

Do not despair.

For Mike I'm sure,

Will always be there.

Just remember when you look to the sky,

That Mike is in heaven,

Looking down,

With that gleem in his eye.

I know these few words,

That I have wrote.

It doesn't mean much,

To a heart that's broke.

But I would like,

To ask all friends.

To come together,

And play once again.

I wrote these few words,

I know it's not much.

But to Mike I must say,

I love you a bunch.     

Written by Mike Miller 02/21/03

Mike Luer's longtime friend and hunting buddy.

Tribute To A SMWA Worker, Mike Luer

The place is still here Mike,

Although changes have been made,

And lots you would not like

To each degree and grade.

Your machine from which you stood behind

Has been taken to a spot,

That if you seen it now

You might think absolutely not.

Though punching and rolling was mainly your job

Now behind your machine stands a guy called Bob.

Endless was your knowledge of other things to do,

Turkey calling was just one of the many few.

One day into work as we came in

We noticed no Mike! Where Mike should have been.

And questions and concerns of workers who care

Noticed behind his machine his spot still bare.

Later that day we heard word going round,

That out on the ice was where you were found.

We know how your life became

Filled with thoughts not the same.

And decided to end life and the sheet metal game.

When the lake is all frozen

And I'm passing thru town

I will always remember

The sheet metal worker they found.

Mike Luer

Written by Rita Aune, friend and co-worker