It was high time, for the man was in little better condition than the bear. His scalp and cheek and throat were torn open, there were five gaping wounds in his chest, his thigh bore an irregular tear two or three inches wide from which the flesh hung in ragged strips, and his left wrist was broken and the bones protruding through the twisted flesh.His companion, alarmed by the six shots, hurried to the hunter. He bound up his wounds, set him on a horse, guided him for two hours across country without a trail, and got him to camp at nightfall. But to save the man’s life it was necessary to get him to the railroad in short order. He was put on a horse with a man on each side to support him, and for eleven hours the party climbed down the five miles through forest and jungle, cutting their way as they went. At dark, completely exhausted, they flagged a limited train. The hunter was hurried to a hospital and operated upon and his life saved.
The man with a gun is a specialist. He is looking for a particular thing in order to kill it. Generally the gun hampers full enjoyment of the wilderness. The hunter misses most of the beauty and the glory of the trail. If he stops to enjoy the pranks of other animals, or to notice the color of cloud or flower, he will miss his opportunity to secure his game. When at last he is within range of a bear, it may scent him and be off at any minute, so he must shoot at once. He learns but little of the character of the animal.
Trailing the grizzly without a gun is the very acme of hunting. The gunless hunter comes upclose, but he lingers to watch the bear and perhaps her cubs. He sees them play. Often, too, he has the experience of seeing wilderness etiquette when other bears or animals come into the scene. The information that he gathers and his enjoyment excel those obtained by the man with a gun.
Roosevelt has said and shown that the hunter whose chief interest is in shooting has but little out of the hunt. Audubon did a little shooting for specimens. Wright had as many thrills with the camera as with the rifle. Adams was far happier and more useful with his live grizzlies than he was killing other grizzlies. Emerson McMillin was satisfied to hunt without either gun or camera. The words and sketches of Ernest Thompson Seton have given us much of the artistic side of the wilderness. Dr. Frank M. Chapman explored two continents for the facts of bird-lore and in addition to his books prepared the magnificent bird-groups in the American Museum of Natural History. Thoreau enjoyed life in the wilderness without a gun. But John Muir was the supreme wilderness hunter and wanderer. He never carried a gun. Usually he was in the wilds alone. He spent years in a grizzly bear country. But the wealth of nature-lore with which he enriched his books make him the Shakespeare of nature.
The man without a gun can enjoy every scene of nature along his way. He has time to turn aside for other animals, or to stop and watch any one of the countless unexpected wild-life exhibitions that are ever appearing. Then, too, he hears the many calls and sounds, the music of the wilds. The wild places, especially in grizzly bear land, are crowded with plants and with exhibitions of the manners and the customs of animals, and are rich in real nature stories being lived with all their charm and their dramatic changes.
The grizzly bear has the most curiosity of any animal that I have watched. As curiosity arises from the desire to know, it appears that the superior mentality of the grizzly may be largely due to the alertness which curiosity sustains.
Although the grizzly has learned the extreme danger of exposing himself near man, yet, at times, all his vigilant senses are temporarily hypnotized by curiosity. On rare occasions it betrays him into trouble, or lands a cub in a trap. In old bears curiosity is accompanied with a keenness of observation and a caution that enable him to satisfy his desire for information without exposure to danger. Often it enables him to anticipate a concealed danger—to penetrate the camouflage of something dangerous. Curiosity prevents oncoming events from being thrust on the curious. It is an effort to obtain advance information instead of taking things as they come.
In 1826 Drummond, the botanist, collected plants in the Rocky Mountains. In stopping to examine, to gather, and to press them he was doing the unusual. He thus attracted the attention of numerous grizzlies, who even came close to watch him. They showed no inclination to attack. Bears are “chock-full of curiosity” and will sometimes forget to eat in trying to understand at once the new or the unusual.
Lewis and Clark tell of a bear on a sand-bar who showed interest in their boat as it passed. He raised himself on hind feet and looked after them, and then plunged into the river and swam toward the boat. This novel outfit should have attracted the attention of any living thing, and a curious grizzly must have been almost overcome with wonder. Yet the explorers erroneously assumed that this intense curiosity and consequent attempt for closer inspection was evidence of ferocity. During the first fifty years of the white man’s contact with the grizzly, the bear frequently came close to a man or a camp for a better look; most frontiersmen thought this near approach was ferocity in the bear. Often the bear was greeted with bullets, and in due time he learned to satisfy his curiosity by stealth instead of by direct approach. But inquisitive he still is.
johnnyJOHNNY
In crossing the mountains in northern New Mexico I was overtaken by a Swede on his way to a lumber-camp. He carried a pack, and a part of it was an accordion. We made camp that night near the head of a gulch. Across from us a treeless mountain rose a thousand feet.
After supper the Swede played on his accordion and was soon lost in music. Pausing in my note-making to enjoy his contented expression, I saw an old grizzly watching us from across the mountain. Standing upon a bowlder, he was looking over the tops of the spruce trees that thrust up out of the gulch. Through my field-glasses he appeared even more lost in wonder at the music than the enthusiastic, emotional player. When the refrain died away, the grizzly climbed down off the bowlder, and then, as another piece was begun, at once rose to remount, but instead stood with fore paws against the bowlder, listening. By and by he started up the mountain, pausing every few steps to turn and listen. He either stood broadside, his head tilted sideways, or raised himself on tiptoe, fascinated. A loud, lively, clashing close to one piece started him off on a gallop, but as soon as the music stopped the bear paused. He appeared puzzled and fidgeted aboutwhile the player sat silent, listening to my description of the bear’s movements. A soft and melodious piece was next played. The bear, as the first strain sounded on the evening air, seated himself on his haunches facing us, and thus remained until the piece was finished. Then he climbed higher up the mountain and, on reaching the sky-line, walked lingering along in the last rays of the sun, looking down on us now and then as though wanting more music.
For two or three hours I watched a number of water-ouzels in the St. Vrain River. They often came within three or four feet of where I sat on the bank with my back against a large bowlder. To avoid frightening them, I sat motionless, not turning even my head for an hour or more at a time. I was enjoying their actions, when suddenly I caught the distinct odor of a bear. While still motionless and wondering further about this new interest, I heard the faint crack of a stick behind me. Turning my head at this sound, I saw a grizzly raised on hind legs with fore paws resting on top of the bowlder against which I was leaning. He looked at me with intense interest, all caution forgotten. His curiosity absolutely dominated. But my slightmovement had aroused him. In two seconds from the time I turned he was crashing off through the thicket and probably was condemning himself for being so curious.
One Sunday afternoon one of the men in a lumber-camp rigged up a canvas hammock from the remnants of an old tent and suspended it between two trees. A pet grizzly who belonged at the camp watched him with curious interest while he worked. She observed him with still greater interest as he stretched himself out in it and began reading. When the man deserted the hammock, she walked up to it, struck it, pushed it back and forth with fore paws, and then began rather awkwardly to climb into it. She had almost succeeded, when her weight upon the edge caused it to tip over and spill her on the ground. She leaped back surprised, then walked round the hammock, eyeing it with great curiosity. But the second attempt at climbing into the hammock was successful, and she made a most comical and awkward sight stretched out in it flat upon her back.
I came upon a grizzly on the heights above the timber-line watching the progress of a forest fire. Squatted on his haunches like a dog, he was intently watching the fire-front below. A deep roar at one place, high leaping flames at another, a vast smoke-cloud at another caused him to turn toward each with rapt attention. He followed with eager eyes, also, the swiftly advancing cloud-shadows as they mysteriously rushed forward over ridge and valley. So intent was he that none of his keen senses warned him of my presence, though I stood near for two or three minutes, watching him. When I called he slowly turned his head. He stared at me in a half-dazed manner, then angrily showed his teeth. After another second he fled like a frightened rabbit.
The actions of a fisherman were being followed with the closest attention by a grizzly when I came along the opposite side of a narrow cañon. The bear stood still for some minutes, all his faculties concentrated on the fisherman. Every cast of the fly was observed with the greatest interest. A dangling trout caused him much excitement. Possibly the wind, touched with man-scent, finally warned him of danger. Anyway, he suddenly came to his senses, roused himself, and ran off.
On one of my camping-trips into the mountains I carried a long yellow slicker. Wearing this one misty, half-snowy day, I was followed by a grizzly.Twice he evidently came close to me; although I did not see him, I scented him. When well upon a mountain during the afternoon, I crossed an open place in the woods where a breeze broke up the low-drifting clouds. For a moment I beheld a much interested grizzly near by. He stood and stared at me with all caution forgotten in his curiosity about the long yellow coat.
At dark I made camp at timber-line and forgot about the bear. The slicker was hung over a pole against a cliff to drain and dry. I went to sleep about eleven o’clock, after writing up my notes and watching my camp-fire. During the night the grizzly came boldly into camp, reared up, and slit the slicker. My shoes near by had not been noticed; the bacon and raisins swinging from a limb had not interested his keen nose. He was interested only in that slicker.
This was a case where the grizzly’s curiosity might have got him into trouble. So intent was he on seeing this one thing that for hours he had forgotten food-hunting and followed me; and then in order to have a closer examination of it he must have waited near my camp two or three hours until I had lain down.
Another time, in the Yellowstone, while I was sleeping out, a big grizzly who had followed me all day came to give me closer inspection. I was awakened by his lightly clawing my bed. I opened my eyes and watched him for some seconds and lay perfectly still while he sniffed me over. After several seconds of this he appeared to have satisfied his curiosity and walked quietly away beneath the stars.
As I was trying to flash information with a looking-glass from Mount Lincoln to a prospector down in the valley one day, a grizzly became attracted by the flashes and lay down to watch them circle and shimmer here and there. In the San Juan Mountains a prospector once lost a wheel from a rude cart which he was hauling up a steep, roadless slope. As the detached wheel went bounding down and across the bottom of the gulch, a grizzly hit an attitude of attention and watched it. He became excited as it leaped and rushed up the opposite slope, and when it rolled over he approached cautiously to see what manner of thing it might be. A grizzly sat down on his haunches to watch the uncertain movements of an umbrella which had taken advantage of a wind-storm to desert a mountain-top artist. He observed the disheveled umbrellawith the greatest enjoyment as it danced across the moorland, and was particularly interested when a whirl sent it high into the air.
Riding a lazy pony slowly, silently, along a trail in the San Juan Mountains, I came close upon a grizzly and three cubs. They aroused the deep emotional nature of my pony. He took on new and fiery life, and in his eagerness to reach a high mountain across the cañon he forgot all about the topography—the cañon that lay deep between. While he was standing on one hind foot on the edge of the cañon I leaped from the saddle. The old bear and cubs, forgetting all possible danger, while he was thus performing stood up to watch the entire exhibition.
A grizzly keeps an eye on near-by animals, often without appearing to do so. But if the animal is doing something new or unusual he gives it his entire attention. Two bears, side by side, are interested in the same thing; yet the individuality of each will show if you watch them a minute. Of course, all bears are not equally curious about the same thing, but seldom do I recall outwitting a bear even when appealing to his curiosity, and never could I class him as stupid.
Grizzlies in regions just invaded by white men appear to have put in much time trying to make out what these strange creatures were about. What man is doing is ever of first importance to the long-lived grizzly. His interest in his surroundings appears to be greater than that of the average person. At any rate, the grizzly shows better knowledge of the habits of human beings than people have of the habits of bears.
His is not the curiosity of the idle; the grizzly is not prying into the affairs of others for mere pastime, but is concerned only so far as these affairs may benefit or harm him. His is the intelligent curiosity of a mind seeking facts. Most of the time he leads a solitary life; he rarely exchanges ideas or information with other bears. Most animals live in pairs or flocks and, each gathering information for all, they divide sentinel duty; but single-handed the grizzly must get the news, must scout for himself. He is ever on the watch, does nothing blindly, and he simply must understand.
Any unusual occurrence arouses a grizzly’s curiosity, and is to him "a word to the wise." His success lies in constant alertness. He might well be likened to a frontiersman; he has that painstakingvigilance, that untiring energy, which seeks to discover whether this strange track, sound, or displacement is the camouflage which conceals the enemy or if it be a clue which will lead to something of advantage. He at once endeavors to find out all that may be learned about it.
The grizzly bear may have inherited a love for exploration. His ancestors were adventurers, coming to this continent from Asia. The natural attraction which the new and unusual has for him may generally be gratified in his curiosity about things at home. But we may readily imagine that the grizzly must sometimes become restless when there is nothing stirring near by, when he finds no excitement in his home territory, and so wanders like an explorer to seek discoveries in far-off scenes. He is innately an adventurer; he seeks adventure and often finds it. His curiosity does not allow him to live in a rut—to live contentedly with old conditions. He is always learning; he keeps alive and growing.
The grizzly bear simply cannot be understood, nor half understood, if his curiosity is not considered. Notice a grizzly bear pet, observe a grizzly in a zoo, watch both the cubs and the old grizzlies inthe Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks. They walk about like superior animals, which they are. Those in parks ever notice any sudden movement, any new figure in the foreground, and detect any unusual noise that comes from far away behind the woods. The grizzly bear and the scout are masters of woodcraft through intensive observation. Behind the word curiosity the grizzly bear has put a world of meaning.
The wild grizzly shows a deeper feeling for the scenes, the sounds, and the movements around him than any other animal that I have watched. Sometimes, while thus interested, he sits on haunches like a dog, again he stands on all fours, at other times he stands on hind feet, tiptoe, and, on rare occasions, he sits on his tail with fore paws against his breast, perhaps leaning against something. Once in a while he gives full attention while lying down.
When looking at scenery and sunsets, his appearance is one of enjoyment; he appears to have feeling in the conscious presence of that which we call beautiful or glorious. I have seen a grizzly looking at a magnificent and many-colored sunset, completely absorbed. There was no fear at a flashof lightning or the roar and echoing roll of thunder. Once I saw a grizzly turn to stare at the course of a shooting star; another gazed for seconds at a brilliant rainbow.
Generally the grizzly’s attention to these demonstrations rose superior to commonplace curiosity; he looked long, he listened closely, he was absorbed, and he appeared to feel as he sat lost in wonder. Had he been a child, with the power of speech, he certainly would have asked questions. Often his expression, his attitude, indicated that he was saying to himself: “What was that? What caused it? Where did that noise come from? What are those strange shadows running from, and how can they move without a sound?”
In the grizzly bear we have the leading animal of North America, and one who might well be put at the head of the wild life of the earth. He has brain and brawn. He is self-contained and is prepared for anything. He makes an impressive appearance. He looks capable. He has bulk, agility, strength, endurance, repose, courage, enthusiasm, and curiosity. He is a masterful fighter if forced to defend himself.
But, a century ago, fifty years ago, or to-day, one could ramble the grizzly’s territory in safety—unless attempting to kill a grizzly. The grizzly objects to being killed. If he is surprised or crowded so that he sees no escape, if the cubs are in danger or the mother thinks they are, or if the bear is wounded, there will be a fight or a retreat; and the grizzly will not be the one retreating. Almost every animal—wild or domestic—will fight if cornered or if he thinks himself cornered.
Before the days of the repeating rifle the grizzly boldly wandered over his domain as absolute master; there was nothing for him to fear; not an aggressive foe existed. But, being ever curious, he hastened to examine whatever interested him. The novel outfit of Lewis and Clark, which appears to have attracted unusual attention even from frontier people, must naturally have aroused the highest pitch of interest in the numbers of bears congregated in places along the river. There were boats of odd type,—some with sails,—strange cargoes, men in picturesque accoutrements, and even a colored man. The frequent close approaches which the bears made in trying to satisfy their curiosity caused Lewis and Clark to think them ferocious.
But is the grizzly bear ferocious? All the firsthand evidence I can find says he is not. Speaking from years of experience with him my answer is emphatically, “No!” Nearly every one whom a grizzly has killed went out with the special intention of killing a grizzly. The majority of people who hold the opinion that he is not ferocious are those who have studied him without attempting to kill him; while the majority who say that he is ferocious are those who have killed or attempted to kill him.
During the greater part of my life I have lived in a grizzly bear region. I have camped for months alone and without a gun in their territory. I have seen them when alone and when with hunters, in Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Mexico, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Washington, British Columbia, and Alaska. I have spent weeks trailing and watching grizzlies, and their tracks in the snow showed that they often trailed me. They frequently came close, and there were times when they might have attacked me with every advantage. But they did not do so. As they never made any attack on me, nor on any one else that I know of who was not bent on killing them, I can only conclude that they are not ferocious.
Once I was running down a Wyoming mountainside, leaping fallen fire-killed timber, when suddenly I surprised a grizzly by landing within a few feet of him. He leaped up and struck at me with sufficient force to have almost cut me in two had the blow landed. Then he instantly fled. This, however, was not ferocity. Plainly he thought himself attacked and struck in self-defense.
There are many naturalists and frontiersmen who affirm from first-hand experience that thegrizzly is not ferocious, and following are given a number of quotations from a few of these men.
John Muir, who spent about forty years in the wilderness home of the grizzly bear, from 1868 to 1912, usually camped alone and never carried firearms. He has repeatedly called attention in his books to the wilderness as a place of safety, and has mentioned that grizzly bears are masters in attending to their own affairs; also that bears have effectively suggested to wilderness visitors to do likewise. In “Our National Parks” Muir says:—
“In my first interview with a Sierra bear we were frightened and embarrassed, both of us, but the bear’s behavior was better than mine.... After studying his appearance as he stood at rest, I rushed forward to frighten him, that I might study his gait in running. But, contrary to all I had heard about the shyness of bears, he did not run at all; and when I stopped short within a few steps of him, as he held his ground in a fighting attitude, my mistake was monstrously plain. I was put on my good behavior, and never afterwards forgot the right manners of the wilderness.”
“In my first interview with a Sierra bear we were frightened and embarrassed, both of us, but the bear’s behavior was better than mine.... After studying his appearance as he stood at rest, I rushed forward to frighten him, that I might study his gait in running. But, contrary to all I had heard about the shyness of bears, he did not run at all; and when I stopped short within a few steps of him, as he held his ground in a fighting attitude, my mistake was monstrously plain. I was put on my good behavior, and never afterwards forgot the right manners of the wilderness.”
Muir also says, in “Steep Trails”:—
“There are bears in the woods, but not in suchnumbers nor of such unspeakable ferocity as town-dwellers imagine, nor do bears spend their lives in going about the country like the devil, seeking whom they may devour. Oregon bears, like most others, have no liking for man either as meat or as society; and while some may be curious at times to see what manner of creature he is, most of them have learned to shun people as deadly enemies.”
“There are bears in the woods, but not in suchnumbers nor of such unspeakable ferocity as town-dwellers imagine, nor do bears spend their lives in going about the country like the devil, seeking whom they may devour. Oregon bears, like most others, have no liking for man either as meat or as society; and while some may be curious at times to see what manner of creature he is, most of them have learned to shun people as deadly enemies.”
Mr. William H. Wright spent most of his time from 1883 to 1908 as a hunter of wild animals, and especially as a hunter of the grizzly. In addition to being an observer of exceptional care while hunting and trapping, he spent some years in photographing grizzlies. He first studied them in order to hunt them successfully; then laid aside his rifle and hunted them to study them. From full acquaintance with the grizzly Mr. Wright declares that he is not ferocious. He offers the following comment concerning his curiosity—a trait which early explorers mistook for ferocity:—
“We know now that the grizzly is chock-full of curiosity, and that one of his habits is to follow up any trail that puzzles or interests him, be it of man or beast. This trait has been noted and misconstrued by many.... So often have I seen thiscuriosity and proved it to be innocent that I have no fear whatever of these animals when indulging in this weakness of theirs. Time and again I have allowed one to approach within a few yards of me, and no calm observer who had watched a bear defying his own caution to satisfy his own inquisitiveness could mistake the nature of his approach.”
“We know now that the grizzly is chock-full of curiosity, and that one of his habits is to follow up any trail that puzzles or interests him, be it of man or beast. This trait has been noted and misconstrued by many.... So often have I seen thiscuriosity and proved it to be innocent that I have no fear whatever of these animals when indulging in this weakness of theirs. Time and again I have allowed one to approach within a few yards of me, and no calm observer who had watched a bear defying his own caution to satisfy his own inquisitiveness could mistake the nature of his approach.”
Drummond, the botanist, had numerous experiences with grizzlies in the Rocky Mountains in 1826. He was familiar with their curiosity. He says that often they came close and stood up to look at him. But if he made a noise with his specimen-box, or “even waved his hand,” they ran away.
James Capen Adams hunted and trapped big game from 1849 to 1859 in California and along the Pacific Coast. He captured numerous grizzlies, both old and young, and literally domesticated them. He discusses their characteristics at length. He knew them intimately, and in summing them up after years of close association he says of the grizzly, “He did not invite combat.”
Kit Carson, another frontiersman of long experience with grizzlies, in writing of them does not call them ferocious.
Dr. W. T. Hornaday knows the grizzly in the wilds and has long and intimately known him in the zoo. In "The American Natural History" Dr. Hornaday has the following:—
“I have made many observations on the temper of the Grizzly Bear, and am convinced that naturally the disposition of this reputedly savage creature is rather peaceful and good-natured. At the same time, however, no animal is more prompt to resent an affront or injury, or punish an offender. The Grizzly temper is defensive, not aggressive; and unless the animal is cornered, orthinks he is cornered, he always flees from man.”
“I have made many observations on the temper of the Grizzly Bear, and am convinced that naturally the disposition of this reputedly savage creature is rather peaceful and good-natured. At the same time, however, no animal is more prompt to resent an affront or injury, or punish an offender. The Grizzly temper is defensive, not aggressive; and unless the animal is cornered, orthinks he is cornered, he always flees from man.”
The early explorers were warned by the Indians that the grizzly was “an awful and ferocious animal.” All the early writers had the preconceived belief that the grizzly was ferocious. Many of these writers never saw a grizzly, but wrote down as fact the erroneous conclusions of the Indians. The few writers who did see a grizzly evidently judged him largely from these preconceived ideas. Even Lewis and Clark describe a number of the grizzly’s actions and call him ferocious when the very actions which they describe simply show him as being curious, interested, or, at worst, excited at theirstrange appearance. They misinterpreted what actually happened.
A few sentences from Audubon well illustrate the wrought-up frame of mind of many hunters and authors when hunting or writing about the grizzly. Audubon says:—
“While in the neighborhood where the grizzly bear may possibly be hidden, the excited nerves will cause the heart’s pulsations to quicken if but a startled ground squirrel run past, the sharp click of the lock is heard and the rifle hastily thrown to the shoulder before a second of time has assured the hunter of the trifling cause of his emotion.” This suggests emotion but not accuracy.
“While in the neighborhood where the grizzly bear may possibly be hidden, the excited nerves will cause the heart’s pulsations to quicken if but a startled ground squirrel run past, the sharp click of the lock is heard and the rifle hastily thrown to the shoulder before a second of time has assured the hunter of the trifling cause of his emotion.” This suggests emotion but not accuracy.
In summing up the animals of the North and West in 1790, Edward Umfreville wrote of the “red and the grizzle bear” that “their nature is savage and ferocious, their power dangerous, and their haunts to be guarded against.”
In 1795 Sir Alexander MacKenzie recorded the following:—
“The Indians entertain great apprehension of this kind of a bear, which is called the grisly bear, and they never venture to attack it except in a party of least three or four.”
“The Indians entertain great apprehension of this kind of a bear, which is called the grisly bear, and they never venture to attack it except in a party of least three or four.”
Henry M. Brackenridge, author of “Views of Louisiana,” wrote the following from hearsay:—
“This animal is the monarch of the country which he inhabitates. The African lion or the Bengal tiger are not more terrible than he. He is the enemy of man and literally thirsts for human blood. So far from shunning, he seldom fails to attack and even to hunt him. The Indians make war upon these ferocious monsters with ceremonies as they do upon a tribe of their own species, and, in the recital of their victories, the death of one of them gives the warrior greater renown than the scalp of an enemy. He possesses an amazing strength, and attacks without hesitation and tears to pieces the largest buffalo.”
“This animal is the monarch of the country which he inhabitates. The African lion or the Bengal tiger are not more terrible than he. He is the enemy of man and literally thirsts for human blood. So far from shunning, he seldom fails to attack and even to hunt him. The Indians make war upon these ferocious monsters with ceremonies as they do upon a tribe of their own species, and, in the recital of their victories, the death of one of them gives the warrior greater renown than the scalp of an enemy. He possesses an amazing strength, and attacks without hesitation and tears to pieces the largest buffalo.”
The first paragraph which Lewis and Clark wrote concerning the grizzly, April 29, 1805, says:
“We proceeded early, with a moderate wind. Captain Lewis, who was on shore with one hunter, met about eight o’clock two white bears. Of the strength and ferocity of this animal the Indians had given us dreadful accounts; they never attack him but in parties of six or eight persons, and even then are often defeated with a loss of one or more of the party. Having no weapons but bows andarrows, and the bad guns which the traders supply them, they are obliged to approach very near the bear, and as no wound except through the head or heart is fatal they frequently fall a sacrifice if they miss their aim. He rather attacks than avoids man, and such is the terror which he has inspired that the Indians who go in quest of him paint themselves and perform all the superstitious rites customary when they make war on a neighboring nation. Hitherto those we had seen did not appear desirous of encountering us, but although to a skillful rifleman the danger is very much diminished, yet the white bear is still a terrible animal. On the approach of these two, both Captain Lewis and the hunter fired and each wounded a bear; one of them made his escape; the other turned upon Captain Lewis and pursued him seventy or eighty yards, but being badly wounded he could not run so fast as to prevent him reloading his piece, which he again aimed at him, and a third shot from the hunter brought him to the ground.”
“We proceeded early, with a moderate wind. Captain Lewis, who was on shore with one hunter, met about eight o’clock two white bears. Of the strength and ferocity of this animal the Indians had given us dreadful accounts; they never attack him but in parties of six or eight persons, and even then are often defeated with a loss of one or more of the party. Having no weapons but bows andarrows, and the bad guns which the traders supply them, they are obliged to approach very near the bear, and as no wound except through the head or heart is fatal they frequently fall a sacrifice if they miss their aim. He rather attacks than avoids man, and such is the terror which he has inspired that the Indians who go in quest of him paint themselves and perform all the superstitious rites customary when they make war on a neighboring nation. Hitherto those we had seen did not appear desirous of encountering us, but although to a skillful rifleman the danger is very much diminished, yet the white bear is still a terrible animal. On the approach of these two, both Captain Lewis and the hunter fired and each wounded a bear; one of them made his escape; the other turned upon Captain Lewis and pursued him seventy or eighty yards, but being badly wounded he could not run so fast as to prevent him reloading his piece, which he again aimed at him, and a third shot from the hunter brought him to the ground.”
Below are two additional paragraphs from the Journal of Lewis and Clark. These show that the grizzly was most wide-awake and curious, and also that he was not accustomed to being afraid.
“The bear which gave so much trouble on the head of the Missouri are equally fierce in this quarter. This morning one of them, which was on a sand-bar as the boat passed, raised himself on his hind feet and after looking at the party, plunged in and swam towards them. He was received with three balls in the body; he then turned around and made for the shore. Towards evening another entered the water to swim across. Captain Clark ordered the boat towards the shore, and just as the bear landed shot the animal in the head. It proved to be the largest female they had ever seen, and so old that its tusks were worn quite smooth.”“Just as he arrived near Willow Run, he approached a thicket of brush in which was a white bear, which he did not discover till he was within ten feet of him; his horse started, and wheeling suddenly round, threw M’Neal almost immediately under the bear, who started up instantly, and finding the bear raising himself on his hind feet to attack him, struck him on the head with the butt end of his musket; the blow was so violent that it broke the breech of the musket and knocked the bear to the ground, and before he recovered, M’Neal, seeing a willow tree close by, sprang up,and there remained while the bear closely guarded the foot of the tree until late in the afternoon. He then went off, and M’Neal being released came down, and having found his horse, which had strayed off to the distance of two miles, returned to camp. These animals are, indeed, of a most extraordinary ferocity, and it is matter of wonder that in all our encounters we have had the good fortune to escape.”
“The bear which gave so much trouble on the head of the Missouri are equally fierce in this quarter. This morning one of them, which was on a sand-bar as the boat passed, raised himself on his hind feet and after looking at the party, plunged in and swam towards them. He was received with three balls in the body; he then turned around and made for the shore. Towards evening another entered the water to swim across. Captain Clark ordered the boat towards the shore, and just as the bear landed shot the animal in the head. It proved to be the largest female they had ever seen, and so old that its tusks were worn quite smooth.”
“Just as he arrived near Willow Run, he approached a thicket of brush in which was a white bear, which he did not discover till he was within ten feet of him; his horse started, and wheeling suddenly round, threw M’Neal almost immediately under the bear, who started up instantly, and finding the bear raising himself on his hind feet to attack him, struck him on the head with the butt end of his musket; the blow was so violent that it broke the breech of the musket and knocked the bear to the ground, and before he recovered, M’Neal, seeing a willow tree close by, sprang up,and there remained while the bear closely guarded the foot of the tree until late in the afternoon. He then went off, and M’Neal being released came down, and having found his horse, which had strayed off to the distance of two miles, returned to camp. These animals are, indeed, of a most extraordinary ferocity, and it is matter of wonder that in all our encounters we have had the good fortune to escape.”
The grizzly was introduced to the world by Governor DeWitt Clinton of New York, who appears to have taken his information from the Journal of Lewis and Clark. In the course of an address before the Literary and Philosophical Society of New York City in 1814, he completely misinterpreted the real character of the grizzly and popularized a number of errors that not only were believed then but have survived to this day. The real grizzly is a distinguished character; but the grizzly as commonly described by tongue and story—well, “there ain’t no such animal.”
Governor Clinton in discussing the work in store for the coming naturalists said, "There is the white, brown, or grizzly bear, the ferocious tyrant of the American woods—it exists, the terror ofthe savages, the tyrant of all other animals, devouring alike man and beast and defying the attacks of a whole tribe of Indians." Few people realize to what extent these inaccurate words have discouraged outdoor life and how enormously they have contributed to the output of fictitious nature writing.
The Indians had a profound respect for the fighting efficiency of the grizzly. When one of them killed a grizzly he triumphantly wore the claw as a medal for rare bravery. The grizzly has a head and a hide that the Indian could rarely penetrate with either an arrow or a spear. We may readily believe that the grizzly defied the attacks of “a whole tribe of Indians,” as Governor DeWitt Clinton said. He would defy a whole tribe of Indians or a score of white men with similar weapons to-day. So, too, would the elephant, the African lion, or the tiger.
With the rifles used at the time of Lewis and Clark it was necessary for the hunter to approach close to the bear that the bullet might have sufficient velocity to penetrate a vital spot. The rifles being only single-shot, the hunter was exposed to the assault of the bear in case his aim missed or theshot was ineffective. It is not surprising that in most cases those attempting to kill the grizzly either were overpowered by him or succeeded only through force of numbers and with the loss of some of the assailants. But the ability of the grizzly to withstand such attacks and to defend himself has been confused with ferocity.
The grizzly is a fighting-machine of the first order and with the weapons of two or three generations ago he often sold his life most dearly. In a short time the grizzly had the reputation of being a terrible fighter, and along with this he was given the reputation of being ferocious—of being an awful hunter of man. For the grizzly to repel effectually those who went out to attack him is a very different thing from his going out to hunt and to attack people who were not molesting him. This latter he has never done.
The words of Umfreville, MacKenzie, Brackenridge, Clinton, and Lewis and Clark bring out strongly that the grizzly is a fighter, formidable, perhaps unequaled. Their opinion on this point is supported by ample first-hand testimony down through the years, from all over the grizzly territory. But it has not been established that the grizzly is ferocious, is seeking to kill. No, the grizzly does not look for a fight; he is for peace at almost any price.
The grizzly fights in self-defense; men do the same. A man is not criminal for fighting in self-defense; neither is a grizzly. For this self-defense fighting the grizzly should not be put in the criminal class. “The worm will turn,” is an old saying. All animals fight in self-defense, some more quickly than others. Few ever succeed against man; the grizzly often does. Apparently the effective self-defense of the grizzly is responsible for his criminal reputation.
It is common for those who believe that the grizzly is ferocious to believe also that he eats human flesh. There is no known instance of his having done so.
We are now hearing that the Alaska bears are especially ferocious. Yet, in Alaska at the present time, and for many years in the past, the bear trails are concealed as much as possible by being in the woods. This would prevent the bear on the trail being readily seen by man. Along the sea, where much bear food is cast ashore, the trails are not upon the open beach but some distance awaybehind the trees. The bears depend on scent to tell them if there is anything along the shore to eat. Both their trails and their daily life in Alaska conclusively show that their chief concern is to keep away from and out of sight of man.
The experience with bears in the Yellowstone Park demonstrates that the grizzly is not ferocious. The Park had a numerous grizzly population when it was made a wild-life reservation. The people who in increasing numbers visited the Park carried no fire-arms and they were not molested by the grizzlies. Yet grizzlies were all about. After some twenty years of this friendly association of people and grizzlies, a number of grizzlies, dyspeptic and demoralized from eating garbage, and annoyed by the teasing of thoughtless people, became cross and lately even dangerous. But these bears cannot be called ferocious. Eliminate the garbage-piles and cease harassing the bears, and they will again be friendly.
The grizzly bear has been a golden gift of the gods for the countless writers of highly colored alleged natural history. There is a type, too, of wild fiction-writers of the Captain Mayne Reid class whose thrilling stories of the grizzly and other wilderness animals are purely fictitious, and, though not even pretending to be fact, appear to have been taken seriously by thousands. So prolific and continuous has been the output of these writers that facts have been lost, and it is practically impossible for the average individual to know the real grizzly bear. This comes near to being the immortality of error. It is a national misfortune that the overwhelming majority of people should be imposed upon with erroneous natural history. The destiny of the human race is intimately tied up with nature, and for any one to misunderstand the simple facts which unite us with nature is to be out of harmony with the whole scheme of things. An accurate knowledge of natural history has an important place in guiding the judgments of our race.
Because of their intimate knowledge of the grizzly bear, James Capen Adams, William H. Wright, and Philip Ashton Rollins admired this animal. It would be a glorious thing if every one appreciated the real character of the grizzly bear. A changed attitude toward him—the great animal of the outdoors—might cause the wilderness to appeal to all as a friendly wonderland.
Just as I reached the edge of the woods by a sawmill in the Medicine Bow Mountains, a young grizzly rushed at me as though to “chew me up.” She frightened me for a second, but the next instant I realized that it was only a bluff.
“You are not polite to strangers,” I said to her.
She stood still for a minute, looked at me quietly, and then began leaping and racing about me like an awkward puppy who has just made your acquaintance and is eager for play.
“Miss Grizzly” had been captured when a small cub, about a year and a half before, and raised by the foreman of the mill. The pet and favorite of all the men in camp, she had the freedom of the place, played with the visiting teamsters, and welcomed strangers. She was companionable with every one, but was nobody’s grizzly.
Early in her life at the mill she had learned to be afraid of the big buzzing saw. One day as she stoodseveral feet away, either listening to the hum of the saw or watching the dust thrown from it, the saw chanced to strike a knot. A piece of this flew and struck Miss Grizzly solidly between the eyes, raising a lump. She was exceedingly wary of the saw after that. Although she ranged around it, she never risked going too close again. Often she leaped upon a log as it was starting on the carrier for the saw, but she never failed to leap off before getting as near the saw as she had been when struck by the flying chip.
A logger from several miles away who had come to remain at the mill for some time brought with him his pet black bear. All the men were assembled in the bunk-house to see the meeting of the two bears. Miss Grizzly was in the room when the black bear came in. The instant the black bear caught sight of Miss Grizzly he was “scared out of his wits.” He at once turned about and tried to run from the room. But haughty Miss Grizzly acted indifferently. Although she was much smaller than the black, there was no fear; she pretended that she had not seen him. Ignoring him, she went out of the room by the rear door and began playing with one of the dogs.
a black bear in sequoia national parkA BLACK BEAR IN THE SEQUOIA NATIONAL PARK
Miss Grizzly was ever independent, resourceful, and capable. One day a teamster handed her a bottle of catsup. Standing erect, she took it deftly in her fore paws. She was greatly interested in it—probably in the color. In turning it about she caught sight of a floating air-bubble. Inverting the bottle from end to end, she tried to make this out; she held it between her eyes and the light, she shook it back and forth close to her ear. Then, going directly to a near-by log, she brought the bottle down upon it and catsup splashed in all directions. Her curiosity satisfied, she seemed to enjoy licking up the catsup.
The men never teased Miss Grizzly nor attempted to teach her any tricks. Consequently her disposition was uniformly of the best. She enjoyed cartwheeling and liked to have the men start her with a little push down the slope near the mill. Curling her nose behind her toes, she rolled over and over. Occasionally she climbed upon the flat-roofed lumber-shed for the fun of rolling off. While she did much climbing over the logs and lumber-piles and on the low roofs, she did not attempt to climb a tree after the first few weeks she was at the mill.
She was never chained and she rambled about wherever she liked. She spent most of her time at the sawmill or close to it. Occasionally she followed one of the loggers off into the woods. Sometimes by the hour she would lie near where he was working, interested in the flying chips. Sometimes she would go off on a little hunting-excursion, tear an old stump to pieces, or overturn rocks in search of ants and grubs. One day a tree in falling sent a shower of limbs all about Miss Grizzly, one of them apparently striking her. She was not injured, but, bawling like a frightened baby, she turned and ran for camp, and never again did she go to the woods with the logger.
Miss Grizzly was usually fed just outside the cook-house door. She preferred to eat in seclusion. But when especially hungry she came boldly into the dining-room while the men were eating. Walking round the table, she accepted whatever was offered her—and every one offered her something.
She was fond of the teamster who arrived twice a week with supplies and usually followed him homeward, running along behind the wagon. Now and then she preferred to ride close to him with her nose on his shoulder, sitting on her haunches like abig dog. Usually she went only two or three miles and then returned promptly home, but occasionally she lingered. One day, during her third summer at the mill, she followed the teamster as usual but did not return until in the night. After this she made an occasional excursion into the woods alone, sometimes being gone a day or two. One day, after an unusually long absence, she came back accompanied by another young grizzly.
Tracks in the dust showed that the stranger had hesitated to approach the mill. Within two or three hundred yards of it he had reared up, alert, as though he had scented or heard something alarming. Here and there in the road Miss Grizzly had evidently turned back to reassure him. Both finally came within a short distance of the mill, when at the appearance of one of the men the strange bear turned and fled.
The first winter Miss Grizzly did not offer to hibernate. She was fed regularly, and the men never thought of encouraging her to den up. But the second winter she slept three months. About the first of December she dug a den back into the side of the big sawdust pile and crawled in. Two or three times during the winter the men wakenedher, and she came to the mouth of the den and then returned to sleep. Once she came out for a few hours, but, though tempted, refused to eat. Ordinarily Miss Grizzly slept outside the sawmill, against one end of the building; but sometimes she spent the night beneath the edge of the slab-pile.
The third autumn at the mill Miss Grizzly made numerous excursions into the woods alone, and one day she went off on one from which she did not return.
James Capen Adams, known as “Grizzly Adams,” the celebrated hunter and trapper of wild American animals, was easily foremost for what he accomplished in showing the real character of the grizzly bear. His biography, “The Adventures of James Capen Adams,” tells of his intelligent, sympathetic, and successful methods in handling grizzly bears, whether they were young or old. He made loyal companions of grizzlies and trained them so that they served him capably in a number of capacities. In the handling of these animals Adams studied their character. He was uniformly sympathetic, kind, calm, and firm. He endeavoredto accomplish any desired end through gentleness and by appeal to the animal’s interest and loyalty. Force and torture, which so often are the chief equipment of animal-trainers, had no place in his methods.
The story of Ben Franklin and his bringing-up by Adams gives an excellent view of a real grizzly and an excellent master. Adams took Ben Franklin from a den when he was a tiny blind cub. At first he was fed on a mixture of water, flour, and sugar, and then Adams persuaded a greyhound which was nursing a puppy, Rambler, to suckle Ben. Ben, while nursing, was made to wear buckskin mittens to prevent his scratching his foster-mother. Ben and Rambler became lifelong companions, and when not asleep spent most of their time playing and tussling with each other.
Sometimes, when traveling through the mountains with them when they were still small, Adams would take them out of the wagon and allow them to play together. They chased each other over the grass or had merry races after rabbits, squirrels, or prairie-dogs. When older, they enjoyed traveling all day together on foot. On a number of occasions it was necessary for Ben to wear buckskin moccasins to protect his feet from the sharp rocks and the desert sand, and once, after he was much larger, his feet became so sore he was loaded into the wagon and hauled for a day or two.
Ben quickly outstripped his foster-brother in size, but, although very swift of foot, he was soon outrun by the greyhound. Several times Ben and Rambler came upon the fleet-footed antelope, which Rambler closely pursued for miles. Ben would usually race for half a mile or so, then, being unable to keep up with Rambler, would sit down, look around for a minute, and return to his master. For several years they followed Adams in his long hunting-trips across the mountains.
Adams sometimes tempted Ben by placing within his reach scraps of dainty food, but he was so well trained that he never touched any food until it was given to him. Often, when hungry, Ben would sit on his haunches near his master, occasionally looking up into his face and remonstrating if he did not receive attention.
When Ben became larger, Adams trained him as a pack-animal, and Ben carried the camp outfit and supplies on his back through the wilderness. At other times he was used with Rambler in hunting, or when Adams was attacking a grizzly. Ben was once severely injured in a fight with a jaguar. He was not chained except when near a village, and then only for the safety of the excited dogs.
On one of his hunting-expeditions in the mountains of Oregon, Adams had what he considered one of the narrowest escapes of his life. He had with him as usual Rambler and Ben Franklin. While passing through a thicket Adams came unexpectedly upon a mother grizzly with cubs. The mother bear at once knocked him down and began to chew him up. Ben Franklin had not heretofore seen one of his kin.
“What will Ben do?” thought Adams, “help me or join his own kind and also attack me?”
There was neither doubt nor hesitation in Ben’s mind. Though young and small, he went to the defense of his master against a grizzly five times his own size. So vigorously did Ben throw himself upon the big grizzly that she turned from Adams and vented her fury upon Ben. Though badly wounded, Adams was able with this opportunity to reach for his rifle and kill the grizzly.
Ben ran howling to camp. Adams, also frightfully injured, followed, and found Ben lying under the wagon licking his bleeding sides. So grateful was he to Ben for saving his life that he dressed the little bear’s wounds before giving attention to his own, and remained in camp several days, giving Ben every possible attention and opportunity to recover. We can understand his saying of Ben Franklin: “The most excellent of all beasts, as faithful as it is possible for any animal to be; Ben Franklin, the king of the forest, the flower of his race, my firmest friend.”
The following tribute to Ben Franklin appeared in the San Francisco “Evening Bulletin” of January 19, 1858:—
“DEATH OF A DISTINGUISHED NATIVE CALIFORNIAN“Ben Franklin, the grizzly bear, the favorite of the Museum man, Adams, the companion for the last three or four years of his various expeditions in the mountains and his sojourns in the cities and towns of California, departed from this mortal existence on Sunday evening, at 10 o’clock. The noble brute, which was captured at the head-waters of the Merced River in 1854, had been raised by hismaster from a cub, and during his life manifested the most indubitable indications of remarkable sagacity and affection. He was ever tame and gentle, and although possessed of the size and strength of a giant among brutes, was in disposition peaceful; rough it is true, in his playfulness, but always well disposed. He frequently carried his master’s pack, provisions and weapons; frequently shared his blanket and fed from the same loaf.“One of his eyes was observed to be injured and several scars were to be seen about his head and neck; but they were honorable wounds and reflected as much credit upon poor Ben as the scars of a brave soldier. They were all received in the service of his human friend, protector and master. As might be supposed his loss has been severely felt by Adams.”
“DEATH OF A DISTINGUISHED NATIVE CALIFORNIAN
“Ben Franklin, the grizzly bear, the favorite of the Museum man, Adams, the companion for the last three or four years of his various expeditions in the mountains and his sojourns in the cities and towns of California, departed from this mortal existence on Sunday evening, at 10 o’clock. The noble brute, which was captured at the head-waters of the Merced River in 1854, had been raised by hismaster from a cub, and during his life manifested the most indubitable indications of remarkable sagacity and affection. He was ever tame and gentle, and although possessed of the size and strength of a giant among brutes, was in disposition peaceful; rough it is true, in his playfulness, but always well disposed. He frequently carried his master’s pack, provisions and weapons; frequently shared his blanket and fed from the same loaf.
“One of his eyes was observed to be injured and several scars were to be seen about his head and neck; but they were honorable wounds and reflected as much credit upon poor Ben as the scars of a brave soldier. They were all received in the service of his human friend, protector and master. As might be supposed his loss has been severely felt by Adams.”
During many years in the West, Mr. Philip A. Rollins was an accurate and sympathetic observer of the grizzly bear. He knew him in various localities, and saw him under countless conditions. He hunted him with a gun and then without a gun. He raised grizzlies, kindly and intelligently. He is oneof the highest authorities on the grizzly. He kindly wrote for me the following from his personal experience:—
“To one who knows and loves bears, Enos A. Mills, from one who loves them, Philip A. Rollins.“One summer day, now almost thirty years ago, a cowboy, hunting from our Wyoming ranch, killed a female grizzly bear. Her two attendant cubs were brought to the ranch by the cowboy, an operation which decreased the value of his clothing, and lessened the quantity of his skin. The names of Jim and Bessie, hastily bestowed as the party, in part hauling and swearing, and in part twisting and growling, made its arrival, were, for the sake of accuracy, later changed to Miss Jim and Mr. Bessie.“The youngsters were presently introduced to their sleeping quarters in the ‘bear parlor,’ an enclosure connecting with the main room of the ranch house by a doorway usually closed only with several curtains of heavy felt. Five black bears had their abode in the ‘bear parlor’ when the little grizzlies registered their advent—a registration effected by clawing and biting everybody and everything within reach. After a few days marked by pandemonium and the enticements of very frequent meals, Miss Jim and Mr. Bessie were the dictators of all the black bears and the friends of all the men; of all the men, save one,—he could not refrain from teasing. Months passed; the little grizzlies increased in strength. The teasing continued. One day a visiting surgeon set three ribs and an arm.“Except for this research into human anatomy, nothing untoward happened until the end of four years. Meanwhile the two grizzlies had, at all times, come and gone at will into and out of the ranch house; had, whenever they desired, tidbits supplemental to their food; attended the ranch meals, perched in orderly fashion on a bench at the foot of the dining-table; and, after the first six months, made any excursion they wished, being absent from the ranch sometimes for several successive days, going thus either alone or as the companions of whatever man might have occasion to travel across country. These trips not infrequently made them adjuncts of a fishing-party, and on such occasions they were always content with their toll of the first four fish caught—two fish for each bear.“No attempt was ever made to exact from the bears the performance of tricks. They were treatedfrom the outset in the same manner as one would treat a well-trained hunting hound, save that special care was taken that they should be fed before approaching either the men’s dining-table in the ranch house or the lunching group of a fishing-party. On their bench at the foot of the dining-table, they never were indecorous, never snatched at any food, but would sit in dignified silence until called by name. Upon the sound of its name, the invited bear would lumber down to the floor, shuffle along to the chair of the inviter, and, having been given and somewhat gently received, the promised confection, would promptly return to its seat. It is true that the returning bear would not infrequently in passing, give playful, if vigorous, pokes into the bodies of its fellows, but none of the blows were aimed at or reached a human being.“The grizzlies were true companions, for they had all the affectionate faithfulness of the best of dogs, intelligence far beyond that of any horse, and endless sense of humor. As to intelligence, they repeatedly used their brains in a manner which perhaps is best exemplified by the following instance of another grizzly which I watched years ago: An animal which, discovering a half-filled food-can,and prevented by the semi-closed lid from touching the contents, takes a stone between its paws and smashes the lid, has claim to brains, even if that animal be only a bear.“I have said that nothing untoward happened during the four years. On second thought, an untoward event did occur. One November, a quantity of freshly preserved blueberries had been obtained from the East. These berries were transformed into twenty-four large deep-dish pies, one for each man on the ranch. On the date of the anticipated feast, an entertainment at a neighboring camp depopulated the house, but did not degrizzly its environs. In the early evening of that day, the house was approached by a file of men, pie-bent, expectant, joyous. Two house logs pulled from without doors, bear-tracks done upon the snow in vivid blue, forewarned that twenty-four pies had passed into history.“At the end of the four years, Miss Jim fell victim to poison, whether set for her or for wolves we never knew. Presently Mr. Bessie was once more teased, this time by a visiting ranchman. After the ranchman had been reassembled and revived, it was decided that the bear must be done for. Heshould not be killed. That smacked of murder. He should not be caged in a zoölogical garden. He had not sinned according to bear law. Accordingly it was agreed that he should be lost. He was led two hundred miles from the ranch and bidden to go his way. His return to the ranch preceded that of his keeper by eight hours. He was led to the mountains of Idaho, and the duration of his return journey not improbably is still the minimum record for that course. Finally two admirers conducted him to Oregon and there parted with him forever. The last view disclosed a cheerful expression as he contemplated two hams tied to a tree, partly for purposes of strategy and partly as a parting gift.”
“To one who knows and loves bears, Enos A. Mills, from one who loves them, Philip A. Rollins.
“One summer day, now almost thirty years ago, a cowboy, hunting from our Wyoming ranch, killed a female grizzly bear. Her two attendant cubs were brought to the ranch by the cowboy, an operation which decreased the value of his clothing, and lessened the quantity of his skin. The names of Jim and Bessie, hastily bestowed as the party, in part hauling and swearing, and in part twisting and growling, made its arrival, were, for the sake of accuracy, later changed to Miss Jim and Mr. Bessie.
“The youngsters were presently introduced to their sleeping quarters in the ‘bear parlor,’ an enclosure connecting with the main room of the ranch house by a doorway usually closed only with several curtains of heavy felt. Five black bears had their abode in the ‘bear parlor’ when the little grizzlies registered their advent—a registration effected by clawing and biting everybody and everything within reach. After a few days marked by pandemonium and the enticements of very frequent meals, Miss Jim and Mr. Bessie were the dictators of all the black bears and the friends of all the men; of all the men, save one,—he could not refrain from teasing. Months passed; the little grizzlies increased in strength. The teasing continued. One day a visiting surgeon set three ribs and an arm.
“Except for this research into human anatomy, nothing untoward happened until the end of four years. Meanwhile the two grizzlies had, at all times, come and gone at will into and out of the ranch house; had, whenever they desired, tidbits supplemental to their food; attended the ranch meals, perched in orderly fashion on a bench at the foot of the dining-table; and, after the first six months, made any excursion they wished, being absent from the ranch sometimes for several successive days, going thus either alone or as the companions of whatever man might have occasion to travel across country. These trips not infrequently made them adjuncts of a fishing-party, and on such occasions they were always content with their toll of the first four fish caught—two fish for each bear.
“No attempt was ever made to exact from the bears the performance of tricks. They were treatedfrom the outset in the same manner as one would treat a well-trained hunting hound, save that special care was taken that they should be fed before approaching either the men’s dining-table in the ranch house or the lunching group of a fishing-party. On their bench at the foot of the dining-table, they never were indecorous, never snatched at any food, but would sit in dignified silence until called by name. Upon the sound of its name, the invited bear would lumber down to the floor, shuffle along to the chair of the inviter, and, having been given and somewhat gently received, the promised confection, would promptly return to its seat. It is true that the returning bear would not infrequently in passing, give playful, if vigorous, pokes into the bodies of its fellows, but none of the blows were aimed at or reached a human being.
“The grizzlies were true companions, for they had all the affectionate faithfulness of the best of dogs, intelligence far beyond that of any horse, and endless sense of humor. As to intelligence, they repeatedly used their brains in a manner which perhaps is best exemplified by the following instance of another grizzly which I watched years ago: An animal which, discovering a half-filled food-can,and prevented by the semi-closed lid from touching the contents, takes a stone between its paws and smashes the lid, has claim to brains, even if that animal be only a bear.
“I have said that nothing untoward happened during the four years. On second thought, an untoward event did occur. One November, a quantity of freshly preserved blueberries had been obtained from the East. These berries were transformed into twenty-four large deep-dish pies, one for each man on the ranch. On the date of the anticipated feast, an entertainment at a neighboring camp depopulated the house, but did not degrizzly its environs. In the early evening of that day, the house was approached by a file of men, pie-bent, expectant, joyous. Two house logs pulled from without doors, bear-tracks done upon the snow in vivid blue, forewarned that twenty-four pies had passed into history.
“At the end of the four years, Miss Jim fell victim to poison, whether set for her or for wolves we never knew. Presently Mr. Bessie was once more teased, this time by a visiting ranchman. After the ranchman had been reassembled and revived, it was decided that the bear must be done for. Heshould not be killed. That smacked of murder. He should not be caged in a zoölogical garden. He had not sinned according to bear law. Accordingly it was agreed that he should be lost. He was led two hundred miles from the ranch and bidden to go his way. His return to the ranch preceded that of his keeper by eight hours. He was led to the mountains of Idaho, and the duration of his return journey not improbably is still the minimum record for that course. Finally two admirers conducted him to Oregon and there parted with him forever. The last view disclosed a cheerful expression as he contemplated two hams tied to a tree, partly for purposes of strategy and partly as a parting gift.”
A real acquaintance with the grizzly bear appears to fill every one with admiration for him. Mr. William H. Wright, quoted elsewhere in this book, understood the grizzly thoroughly. His comprehensive book, “The Grizzly Bear,” is dedicated with these words:—
“WITH THE RESPECT, ADMIRATION AND AFFECTIONOF THE AUTHOR,TO THE NOBLEST WILD ANIMAL OF NORTH AMERICA,THE GRIZZLY BEAR.”
A rock fell from a high cliff and struck upon solid granite near a grizzly whom I was watching. There was a terrific crash and roar. Unmindful of the flying fragments and pieces bounding near, the grizzly reared up and pressed fore paws over his ears. Just as he was uncovering them the echo came thundering and booming back from a cliff across the lake. Again he hastily covered his ears with his paws to soften the ear-bursting crash.
On another occasion a wounded bear took refuge in a small thicket where the hunter was unable to get a shot at him. After failing to force the bear into the open, the hunter gave a wild, ear-splitting yell. With a growl of pain the bear at once chained furiously through the thicket toward the hunter.
A grizzly has supersensitive ears, and loud, harsh sounds give his nerves a harrowing shock. Through his higher development the grizzly probably suffers more intensely and enjoys more fully than other animals. The clashing city noises must be anever-ending irritation and torture to a bear who has been sentenced to end his days in a riotous environment. How he must yearn for the hush of the wilderness! And, as his sense of smell is also amazingly developed, perhaps he longs for a whiff of pine-spiced air and the wild, exquisite perfume of the violets.
Experience in many zoos has shown that subjecting caged grizzlies to close contact with people is usually cruelty to animals. Often they become cross, and a number of crowd-worried grizzlies have died prematurely from resultant apoplexy. Modern zoo bear-pens are constructed so that the bear is beyond the wiles of visitors—so that he can have much privacy—one of the needs of any grizzly. Perhaps we too often think of the bulky grizzly as being coarse and crude. But he is an animal of the highest type, sensitive, independent, and retiring. The normal bear is good-tempered and cheerful.
A grizzly placed in new environment in association with men will respond happily only to considerate handling and proper feeding. Tell me what a bear is fed and how, and I will tell you what the bear is—his disposition and health. A grizzlyshould be fed by no one except his keeper. If any one and every one feed a bear, he is likely to receive food that he ought not to eat and to have it given in a manner annoying to him. Feeding is the vital consideration for grizzly pets, for grizzlies in zoos, and for grizzlies in National Parks.
When I arrived in Colorado, in 1884, grizzlies were still common throughout the mountain areas of the State. They were numerous in a few rugged sections where there were but few people and plenty of food. In the Long’s Peak region around my cabin, I early discovered the tracks of five grizzlies. One or two missing toes or some other peculiarity enabled me to determine the number. Two of these bears ranged near, and I had frequent glimpses of them.
During the autumn of one year, 1893 as I remember, I crossed the mountains between Trapper’s Lake and Long’s Peak. Snow covered most of the ground. During the eight days which this trip occupied I must have seen the tracks of between forty and forty-five grizzlies. I counted the tracks of eleven in one half-day. But grizzlies decreased in numbers rapidly. Numerous hunters came into the State annually. Stockmen and settlers hunted grizzlies for fun and for their hides, and professional hunters for revenue. Altogether, the grizzly had little chance for his life, and only a few survived.
In the settlement of the West many of the grizzlies had to go. Men came in with flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. The grizzlies’ food was taken or driven off. Rarely did a grizzly kill any of the invading stock. Usually he worked harder for a living and took things philosophically. Many grizzlies were killed and a few sought homes elsewhere. But in the West there are still many wild regions, and in these there is room for the grizzly.
There is a wonderful unwritten story of the making of an empire—the Yellowstone—into a wildlife reservation. Big game had long been hunted in this region. The grizzly bear, since his discovery, had been relentlessly pursued; man with every conceivable contrivance was on his trail day and night; there was no quarter and no hope for peace. But suddenly firing ceased and pursuit stopped. This was epoch-marking. “What can it mean?” the grizzlies must have instantly asked. They must have asked it over and over again. But they quickly accepted it as a fact and as an advantage, and came forth to associate peacefully with man.This has made a change worth while for man. Since shooting has stopped, thousands have seen the grizzly and enjoyed him where only one saw him before.