{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_57642/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_57642","id":"gutenberg_57642","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/57642","summary":null,"tags":["Black bear","Black bear -- Folklore","Category: Adventure","Category: Nature/Gardening/Animals"],"text":"Produced by Sonya Schermann, Barry Abrahamsen, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                             THE BLACK BEAR\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n[Illustration: Ben and the author]\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                             THE BLACK BEAR\n\n\n\n                                   BY\n\n                           WILLIAM H. WRIGHT\n\n                      Author of \u201cThe Grizzly Bear\u201d\n\n\n\n\n               ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR\n                           AND J. B. KERFOOT\n\n\n\n\n                        CHARLES SCRIBNER\u2019S SONS\n                         NEW YORK - - - - 1910\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                          COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY\n\n                        CHARLES SCRIBNER\u2019S SONS\n\n                                  ---\n\n                         Published April, 1910\n\n\n\n\n                    [Illustration: Publisher\u2019s Logo]\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                                CONTENTS\n\n\n                                                         PAGE\n          THE STORY OF BEN                                  3\n\n          THE BLACK BEAR: ITS DISTRIBUTION AND HABITS      51\n\n            Classification of Bears                        53\n\n            Description and Distribution                   56\n\n            Characteristics and Habits                     68\n\n            Food and Feeding                               91\n\n            The Happy Hooligan                            105\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n                             ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n             Ben and the Author                       Frontispiece\n\n             Making friends                              16\n\n             The next day we cut a hole in the sack      22\n               so that he could ride with his head\n               out\n\n             Ready for the start                         30\n\n             Ben tries on his new chain and collar       36\n\n             A stop for a drink of water                 44\n\n             Front foot of a black bear, front track     62\n               of a black bear; front foot of a\n               grizzly bear, front track of a grizzly\n               bear\n\n             Hind foot of a black bear, hind track of    64\n               a black bear; hind foot of a grizzly\n               bear, hind track of a grizzly bear\n\n             A mother and two cubs                       74\n\n             Taking a sun bath                           88\n\n             She began to swing her head from side to   106\n               side\n\n             A black bear at home                       114\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                            THE STORY OF BEN\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                            THE STORY OF BEN\n\n\nMY story of Ben starts on the 22d of June, 1890. Ben\u2019s own story had\nbegun some four or five months earlier, in the den where his mother, who\nwas a Black Bear, had spent the winter; but although I came to know Ben\nrather intimately later on, he never spoke of his early childhood to me\nand I never asked him about it. So we\u2019ll take that part for granted.\n\nEarly in May of that year three of us, Martin Spencer, Jack O\u2019Brien, and\nmyself, had set out from Spokane, Washington, to hunt grizzlies and\nprospect for gold in the rugged and, at that time, largely unexplored\nBitter Root Mountains, in Idaho. We had a small pack train and a large\nstock of enthusiasm, and we arrived at the foothills with both in good\ncondition. But although it was well past the middle of the month when we\nreached the mountains, we soon found ourselves floundering in\nsnow-drifts that increased in depth as we climbed, and when, for several\ndays on end, we had cut our way with a two-handed saw through fallen\ntrees that barred our progress and had dug the saddle and pack horses\nout of pot holes in the snow into which a misstep or an act of\ndeliberate stupidity had sent them rolling, both men and horses had\nbecome exhausted. And so, when a cold storm had added itself to our\nother troubles, we had pitched camp in a little opening facing the south\nand settled down to wait for better days. And we had waited there three\nsolid weeks.\n\nOnce, on the morning of the 19th of June, dawn had shown us a clear sky,\nagainst which, fifty miles to the east of us, we could see the main\nrange of the jagged Bitter Roots; and after eating a cheerful breakfast\nwe had hastily broken camp, packed our horses, and started for the\nsummit of the ridge along which we proposed to travel. But here, roaring\nup out of the next valley, we had met another great storm of icy wind\nand swirling snow, and I had soon been forced to leave my companions\nwith the horses while I stumbled down the mountain and hunted up another\nsheltered spot where we could take refuge from the huge storm. And so by\nnoon we had once more found ourselves crowded under a hemlock bark\nlean-to, thankfully facing a blazing fire of logs and listening to the\nwind howling overhead. And it was not until the afternoon of the 21st\nthat the storm had passed. Then at last the sun had come out hot and\nclear and had begun forcing the great masses of snow that clung to the\nlimbs of the trees to loosen their grip so that the forest was filled\nwith the splash of their falling, while laden bushes jerked their heads\nfree from the weight that bore them down and the horses stood steaming\nwith the warm air.\n\nBut the burnt child fears the fire, and we had determined to be dead\nsure of the weather conditions this time before we went ahead; so we\nfirst climbed to the top of the ridge to study the country through our\nglasses and at the same time try to look a little bit into the future in\nthe matter of the weather. The storm, we found, covered a tract of\ncountry about fifteen miles in width and fifty to sixty miles in length,\nand where we stood was about midway of the western end of its range.\nSome two miles along the ridge on which we were we could see a gap in\nthe hills, and Spencer and I started over to explore this, while Jack\ntook his rifle and a dog that he had brought along and started down the\nmountain.\n\nSpencer and I, after reconnoitring the gap, catching a mess of small\ntrout from a stream that flowed through it, and following the track of a\nlarge grizzly for some miles, reached camp after dark, and found that\nO\u2019Brien had returned some time before after having had a more\ninteresting adventure. It seemed that, when some two miles from camp, he\nhad heard, above the constant splash of falling snow, the crying of some\nanimals, and as the sound seemed to be coming nearer and nearer he had\ncrouched down behind a large log and, holding his dog in check, had\nwaited and watched. Shortly, out from among the trees, there appeared a\nlarge Black Bear followed by three tiny cubs, the whole family having\nevidently just left their winter quarters. It must have been an amusing\nprocession, for the old bear was ploughing her way through the soft and\nslushy snow, making large holes into which the baby bears would fall,\nand out of which, being so small, they were scarcely able to flounder.\nThey were quite unable, therefore, to keep the pace set by their mother,\nand the old bear would slouch along for a while and then sit down and\nwatch them as they struggled to catch up. And all the time they kept up\nthe whimpering, crying sound that had attracted Jack\u2019s attention.\n\nBut I am afraid O\u2019Brien was more interested in bear meat than in bear\nhabits, for as soon as these animals drew near his hiding-place he let\nloose the dog, who drove the mother up one tree and the cubs up another;\nand having shot the old one and decided that it might be possible to\ncatch the youngsters alive next day, he returned to camp.\n\nThe next morning, as soon as we had had breakfast, we put pack saddles\non a couple of ponies and, taking some empty gunny-sacks along in which\nto put the cubs if we caught them, started out to bring in the meat and\nhide of the old bear. It had come on to rain again during the night, and\na cold drizzle was falling as we started out; and in that steep-sided\nand unbroken wilderness, half buried in the melting snows of a mountain\nwinter, the going was both slow and dangerous. However, we managed to\nreach the bottom of the ravine where Jack had seen the bears without\naccident, and once near the place we tied the horses and crept forward\nas silently as might be, thinking to steal up on the cubs unheard and\nperhaps catch them before they could reach and climb a tree. The carcass\nof the dead bear lay about fifty feet from a huge fir tree, and we soon\nsaw the three cubs, huddled together, and sitting on the body of their\ndead mother. But it was evident that they were aware of our approach,\nfor they were on the alert and keeping a sharp lookout in our direction.\nSo when we had worked up as near as possible, and had reached the last\ncover between ourselves and them, we crouched behind a fallen log and\nlaid out a plan of campaign.\n\nIt was plain to be seen that we were not going to catch the cubs off\ntheir guard, and it was equally evident that we would have to do some\nmighty quick sprinting if we were going to beat them to the foot of the\nbig fir tree. So we agreed to move forward little by little until the\nbears began to be alarmed, and then to make a dash for the tree in hope\nof intercepting them. But we had scarcely wormed our way over the log\nand begun our sneaking approach, when all three cubs rose on their hind\nlegs for a clearer view of their suspicious visitors, and a moment later\nthey bounded down from their bed in the dead mother\u2019s fur and began\nfloundering through the snow and water toward the fir tree.\n\nThe little fellows (the largest of them would not have weighed over five\npounds) had looked to be half dead with cold and misery, and the snow\nand slush was over their heads; but for all that they reached the tree\nahead of us, and started up the rough trunk like so many cats. I just\nmanaged to grab the hindmost of them by one leg as she was scrambling\nout of reach, and after a good deal of squalling, clawing, and biting,\nthe little woolly ball was landed in one of the gunny-sacks, the mouth\ntied up, and the package deposited on a log out of the way. Then we\nbegan figuring out ways and means of catching the two cubs in the big\nfir tree. The rough trunk of this old settler shot up forty feet from\nthe ground without a limb, and the cubs looked down at us from the\nlowest branches, pushing out their upper lips and uttering short\n\u201cwhoofs,\u201d exactly as a grown bear would have done. There seemed to be\nbut one way to get them alive, and this was to shin up the old tree and\nshake them down as one would ripe plums. Spencer and Jack agreed to\ncatch them before they could again take to a tree, if I would undertake\nthe climbing and shaking: and after some little talk I closed the\nbargain. The hardest part of the task seemed to me to be the shinning of\nthe old tree. The rest looked easy, but that was before I had tried it.\nAny one who has never had the pleasure of dislodging a bear from the\nlimb of a tree by shaking is apt to think it an easy matter; but he will\nchange his mind after a little experience.\n\nThe bark of the fir tree was rough and afforded good finger holds, and\nit also scraped the skin off the inside of my knee, but in due time I\nreached the lower limbs and, seating myself on one of these, rested for\na few minutes. Then I began climbing up after the cubs, who moved higher\nup at my approach. One of them, after climbing some twenty feet, crawled\nout on a branch and, as I came to him first, I gave the limb a gentle\nshake expecting to see him roll off and go tumbling down through the\nboughs to the ground below. As the cub did not drop at the first shake,\nI gave another and harder one. As this did not dislodge him, I stood on\nthe branch and, grasping the limb over my head with both hands jumped up\nand down with all my might and, after several minutes of this exercise,\nsaw the youngster lose his desperate grip on the small branches and go\nsmashing down out of sight. And a moment later a loud splash announced\nhis arrival at his destination. Even then, I learned afterward, he got\nto his feet and had nearly reached another tree before he was captured.\n\nThe racket that had been raised in dislodging the one cub had so\nfrightened the other that he had climbed to the topmost branch of the\ntree, and here I found him with his head down, snorting and striking\nwith his little paws. If he had weighed fifty pounds he would have been\nan ugly customer to handle, but as it was there was no danger from him.\nBut there was considerable difficulty, for he had climbed so high that I\ndid not dare trust my weight to the small branches, and, shake as I\nmight, I was unable to dislodge him. Finally I climbed down to where the\nlimbs were longer, cut one of them with my jack-knife, and, using it as\na pole, succeeded in poking the cub out of his perch. And as he shot\npast me I called to the boys to look out and listen for the splash of\nhis arrival. But instead of the expected sound I heard Martin call out\nthat the cub had caught on a lower limb and was climbing back up the\ntree. This was aggravating, but I thought that at least I had the upper\nhand of him this time and started down to meet him.\n\nHe had taken refuge on one of the longest branches of the old fir, and\nas he was too far out for me to reach with my pole, I had recourse to my\nformer tactics. I stood up on the branch the cub was on, grasped a\nhigher one with both hands, and put all my strength and weight into a\nsuccession of violent shakes. The bear slipped inch by inch out toward\nthe end of the limb; first one paw and then the other lost its grip; at\nlast he hung down from the outermost fork by what looked like one toe\nnail. But further than this he refused to yield. Round and round he\nswung as long as the shaking lasted, which was until I was completely\nout of wind and compelled to stop for breath; and then back the little\nbeggar climbed, and by the time I had got ready for another inning he\nwas safe in the original position.\n\nThis was repeated again and again until it became evident that only\ncomplete exhaustion on the part of one or other of the contestants would\nend the bout. And I won by a hair. The plucky little fellow let go and\nwas landed squalling in the sack with the others, while I rested up\nbefore undertaking my slower journey to the ground. Then we skinned the\nold bear, cut up the meat, packed the whole on the horses, fastened the\nsack containing the cubs to one of the packs, and returned to camp.\n\nJust back of the bark shack which we had built there was a steep bank,\nand into this, with pick and shovel, we dug a hole. Over the top of the\nexcavation we placed poles, and having covered these with bark threw a\nfoot or more of dirt on top, thus making a nice little cave for the\ncubs. We then gathered pine needles, dried and warmed them by the fire,\nand filled up the den with them. From a tanned buckskin we cut long\nthongs, fastened little buckskin collars around our orphans\u2019 necks, and\nso tied them to a stake driven into the ground in front of the cave. We\neach, naturally, laid claim to a cub. And as I was given first choice as\na reward for the climbing I had done to get them, I chose the\ndetermined, spunky little chap that had been the last one caught. He was\nthe middle one in size, but I made up my mind to treat him gently and\nkeep him, if possible, until he should be a large bear. Jack took the\nfirst one caught, it being the smallest and a female. The other two were\nmales. Spencer named his bear George, Jack decided to bring his up\nwithout any name, while I called my wee cublet Ben, after \u201cBen\nFranklin,\u201d the pet grizzly of one of my boyhood\u2019s heroes, old James\nCapen Adams, the tamer and exhibitor of grizzly bears who, in the\nfifties and sixties, became famous as Grizzly Adams.\n\nBut now that we had caught our cubs, housed them, parcelled them out,\nand named them, we had to face another problem. How were we going to\nfeed them, and, worse still, _what_ were we going to feed them? Old\nGrizzly Adams, when he caught his \u201cBen\u201d as an even tinier cub than mine,\nhad induced a greyhound that he had with him and that happened to have\npuppies at the time to nurse the foundling. But Jack\u2019s dog could not\nhelp us that way and we had to make other arrangements.\n\nWe began by taking a frying-pan, a little flour and water, some\ncondensed milk and a pinch of sugar, and stewing up a sort of pap. When\nthis had cooled off we each took a teaspoon and a squalling, kicking cub\nand began experimenting. The cubs, small as they were, had sharp claws,\nteeth like needles, and a violent objection to being mollycoddled; and\nso, although we each had on heavy buckskin gloves, and each held a cub\nunder one arm, its front paws with one hand and a teaspoon with the\nother, the babies took most of their first meal externally. The little\nrascals looked like pasty polar bears when the fight was over. But they\nacted better the second try and soon learned to like their new diet. And\nin a day or two they learned to feed themselves out of a plate. And it\nwas not very long before our problem was, not to induce them to eat, but\nto satisfy their unappeasable appetites.\n\nMeanwhile, however, we had had other troubles. At the conclusion of\ntheir first meal we had put them into their den, placed sections of bark\nagainst the opening, rolled a boulder in front of the improvised door,\nand left them, as we thought, for the night. But we were soon awakened\nby the cries of the lonesome little fellows, and, as there seemed to be\nno prospect of their quieting down, I finally got up, built a fire,\nwarmed some of the gruel, and gave them another feed. I then warmed a\ncouple of flat rocks, placed these under the pine needles, and again\ntucked the babies into bed. By daybreak I had to get up and give them an\nearly breakfast.\n\nThis was the first night, but it was no sample of what followed. The\ninterval between feeds became less and less until the feeding quieted\nthem only so long as the feeding act lasted. Then, as soon as a cub was\nput down, it set up a bawling that was unbearable. One night we put them\nall in a sack and tied the mouth. This kept them from bawling so long as\nthey could not get out of the sack, but they all fell to work with tooth\nand nail, and their combined voices soon announced that they had\nsucceeded in freeing themselves and were pacing in front of their cave\nmaking it impossible for us to sleep. I got up and put them into another\nsack, and this sack inside another. Then I put the bundle in the den\nand, with the shovel, buried it more than a foot deep with dirt. Then I\nput rocks over the top and front of their house. At first the snuffing\nand snorting they made in working on the sack was nearly as bad as the\nbawling, but we finally got to sleep in spite of it; only, however, to\nbe aroused later on by familiar sounds that proclaimed that the sacks\nhad been clawed to bits, the cave dug open, and that the trio were\nwaiting to see what kind of game we would next invent for their\nentertainment. This was our last attempt to keep them quiet. After that\nwe fed them all they would eat and then let them howl.\n\nDuring the day they would play contentedly in front of the den for a\npart of the time. But when the two male bears settled down to sleep the\nlittle vixen of a female would howl and fret and finally take to clawing\nand biting them, so that at last they would come out and join in her\nwalking and bawling. As soon as we discovered this we separated them,\nmaking another cave for the female, and after this we were not bothered\nso much with the crying, and in a few days this ceased altogether.\n\nWe stayed at this camp more than two weeks, waiting for the weather to\nsettle; and though we did some fishing and a little hunting we were, for\nthe most part, held close by the steady rain and gave much time to the\ntraining of our cubs. Each of us of course adopted his own system of\neducation. O\u2019Brien, being an Irishman, would hear of no half measures;\ntalked of \u201csparing the rod and spoiling the child,\u201d and was determined\nto be master in his own house. In this way he soon developed a\ndisposition in his little cub that I have never seen equalled for\nviciousness in any animal whatever. She would, at the mere sound of\nJack\u2019s voice, become a vindictive little devil; and she would spit, and\nstrike at, and fight him until she was completely exhausted. And when\nshe finally died from the effects of the constant whippings he gave her\nin trying to break her spirit, she tried to bite him with her last\nbreath.\n\nBen and George occupied the original little cave in the bank, and we\nspent many hours laughing at their antics. At first they would scratch\nand bite if you touched them, but we never whipped them nor corrected\nthem in any way and they soon lost their fear of us. We put on heavy\nleather gloves, handled them gently but firmly, and\u2014let them chew. They\nwere so small that they could do us no harm and after a few days they\ngrew gentle as kittens. It was not long before, when they were not tied\nup, they would come and climb into our laps. They would lick our hands\nlike puppies and, when allowed to, would come into our tent and snuggle\ndown beside us on our blankets. During the whole five years that I kept\nBen I never once struck or whipped him and never allowed any one to\ntease him, and a more gentle and playful animal I never saw.\n\nJust in front of their little den there was a large stump with a long\nroot that sloped away down the bank. One day when Spencer was playing\nwith the cubs, he picked up one of them and placing it, doubled up like\na ball, on the old root, sent it rolling downward. To our amazement the\nbear did not try to regain his feet until he stopped rolling some\nfifteen feet away, and Spencer was so tickled with the act that he\nbrought him back and once more sent him tumbling down the incline. The\nresult was the same as before. The bear kept whirling until he landed at\nthe end of the root. The other cub was now brought out and we found that\nhe would do the same thing. We sent them down, first backward, then\nforward, and either way the little fellows seemed to enjoy the sport as\nmuch as we; and it was not long before they would climb up on the root\nand, ducking their tiny heads, would go rolling down the toboggan slide,\nand in the end we actually had to tie them up to keep them from\noverdoing it.\n\n\n[Illustration: Making friends]\n\n\nSometimes they would play like kittens. They would roll over and over,\nbiting and wrestling, and we would laugh until our sides fairly ached.\nAt other times they seemed to feel cranky and out of sorts, and then\nthey would claw and fight each other. These spells always occurred when\nthey were tied to their stake and were pacing the circle in front of\ntheir cave.\n\nWe continued to keep them fastened most of the time by their buckskin\nleads to the stake driven near their den, and they spent much of their\ntime walking round and round in circles. They never however, by any\nchance, accompanied each other in the same direction, but invariably\ntravelled different ways; and for the most part they rather ignored each\nother when they met on these journeys, or stopped to play in all\nfriendliness. Perhaps they would pass without noticing each other a\ndozen times, when suddenly, as they met again, they would rise on their\nhind legs and look at each other with an expression of complete\nsurprise, as who should say: \u201cWhere in all creation did _you_ come from?\nHere I have been travelling this circle for half an hour, and never\nmistrusted there was another bear in this part of the country.\u201d And\nthen, as though determined to celebrate the lucky meeting, they would\nembrace and tumble about for a few minutes and then separate and,\nperhaps, pass each other a dozen times more with no notice taken. And\nthen the little comedy would be re-enacted.\n\nBut on days when their tempers were touchy these meetings were apt to be\nless playful. Instead of surprise they would then exhibit resentment at\nfinding their imaginary solitude invaded; and after a few spiteful slaps\nwith their little paws, they would clinch and bite and claw each other\nin earnest. Usually they would break away from these clinches quite\nsuddenly and resume their tramp; only, however, to reopen hostilities at\nan early date. Ben, although the smaller of the two, always seemed to\nget the better of his brother in the boxing bouts and wrestling matches.\nHe entered into each with an earnestness that seemed to put the larger\ncub to flight; and yet in spite of the fact that as they grew older\ntheir battles seemed to grow more fierce, we thought nothing of the\nmatter, but looked on and laughed at the Lilliputian struggles. But one\nday when we returned to camp we found George dead in the little trail\nthat circled the stake to which they were tied, while Ben in his rounds\nstepped over the body of his dead brother at each turn. George\u2019s face\nand nose were chewed beyond identification and he had been dead several\nhours.\n\nBen had now no companions except ourselves and one of the dogs which I\nhad brought along and whose name was Jim; but in spite of this, or\nbecause of it, he grew more friendly and playful each day. He would coax\nJim to come and romp with him and they would chase each other about\nuntil the dog was tired out. Ben seemed to be tireless and would never\nquit playing until chained up, or until the badgered dog turned on him\nin earnest. Even then the bear used not to give up hope immediately.\nAfter the first really angry snap from Jim, Ben would stand off a few\nfeet and look apologetic. Then, if nothing more happened, he would\napproach the dog with a kind of experimental briskness; only, however,\nto turn a back somersault in his haste to get out of the reach of Jim\u2019s\nteeth. A few minutes later, after Jim had lain down and was apparently\nasleep, Ben would steal up quietly and, very gently, with just the tip\nof his paw, would touch his old playfellow to find out if he really\nmeant that the romp was off. And it was the deep growl that always\ngreeted this last appeal that seemed to settle the matter in Ben\u2019s mind.\nHe would then keep out of Jim\u2019s way until the latter felt like having\nanother play.\n\nBen was very quick to learn and we only had to show him a few times to\nhave him catch on to a new trick. He continued to enjoy cartwheeling\ndown the old root, and one of the other things he took to with the most\nzest was a sort of juggling act with a ball. This trick, like the other,\nwe discovered by accident, and then worked up into a more elaborate\nperformance. We finally made him a large ball out of a length of rope,\nsewed it up in a gunny-sack to keep it from unwinding, and he would lie\non his back and keep the thing spinning with his four feet by the hour.\n\nEarly in July the weather finally became settled. The new snow had\nmelted away, the old snow banks were fast disappearing, the little open\npark on the side of the mountain above our camp was green with young\ngrass and literally carpeted with flowers. So one morning we rounded up\nthe ponies, saddled and packed them, put the cub into a grain sack, tied\nup the mouth, placed it on top of one of the packs, tied each of its\nfour corners to one of the lash ropes that held the pack to the horse,\nand started into the unexplored Clearwater country in the heart of the\nBitter Roots.\n\nThe horse selected for Ben\u2019s mount was a little tan-colored beast who\ngave very little trouble on the trail, and whom we called Buckskin. We\nnever had to lead him and he would always follow without watching. He\nwould, when he found good feed, loiter behind until the pack train was\nnearly out of sight; but then, with a loud neigh, he would come charging\nalong, jumping logs and dashing through thick bushes until the train was\nagain caught up with. The first day\u2019s travel was a dangerous one for the\nbear on account of the many low-hanging limbs. We were obliged to keep a\nconstant watch lest one of these catch the sack and either sweep it from\nthe pack or crush Ben to death inside it. But with care and good luck we\ngot through safely and, after seven hours of travel, reaching an open\nside hill with plenty of feed for the horses and a clear cold spring, we\nwent into camp.\n\nWhile we were unpacking the horses an old trapper and prospector known\nas Old Jerry came along. He was one of the first men who made their way\ninto that wilderness, and for many years he and his cabin on the\nLockasaw Fork of the Clearwater were among the curiosities of the\nregion. We had put Ben, still in his sack, on the ground while we got\nthings settled for the night, and Old Jerry, seeing the sack moving,\nasked what we had in it. When he heard that it was a Black Bear cub he\nasked permission to turn it out and have a look at it and we told him to\ngo ahead. After loosening the cord that closed the mouth, he took the\nsack by the two lower corners and gave it a shake, and out rolled Ben in\nhis favorite toboganning posture of a fluffy ball. The cub seemed to\nthink this a variation of the pine root game, and to the astonishment\nand delight of Old Jerry continued turning somersaults for ten or\nfifteen feet. Old Jerry is still alive, and to this day I never meet him\nthat he does not speak of my performing cub.\n\n\n[Illustration: The next day we cut a hole in the sack so that he could\nride with his head out]\n\n\nThe next day we again put Ben in the sack, but this time we cut a hole\nin the side of it, so that he could ride with his head out. For a while\nhe was contented with this style of riding, but after some days he got\nto working on the sack until he was able to crawl through the hole.\nThen, as we found that he could keep his seat very nicely and would\neven, when his pony passed under a branch or leaning tree, dodge to one\nside of the pack and hang there until the danger was past, we adopted\nhis amendment and from this time on never again put him in the sack when\non the march. Instead, we arranged to give him a good flat pack to ride\non. We put a roll of blankets on each side of the horse, close up to the\nhorns of the pack saddle, and tied them in place. Then the space between\nwas filled with small articles and a heavy canvas thrown over all and\ncinched in place. And on top of this Ben would pass the day. We tied his\nlead to the lash rope and he seemed perfectly content, and in fact\nappeared to enjoy the excitement of being jolted and shaken along\nthrough the timber and brush. It kept him on the jump to dodge the limbs\nand switches that were always threatening to unseat him, but in all of\nhis four months\u2019 riding through the mountains, I never saw him taken\nunawares. Nor was he ever thrown by a bucking horse. Sometimes he would\nget down from his seat on top of the pack and sit on the pony\u2019s neck,\nholding by one paw to the front of the pack. Sometimes he would lie\ncurled up as though asleep. But he was never caught off his guard, and\nhis horse Buckskin seemed not to care how much he climbed about on its\nback.\n\nBen soon came to know his own horse, and after Buckskin was packed of a\nmorning would run to the pony\u2019s side and bawl to be lifted to his place\non the pack. And once there he spent several minutes each morning\ninspecting the canvas and the ropes of his pack. Several times during\nthe summer we were obliged to transfer Ben to another mount, but we had\nto be mighty careful in our arrangements, as we learned to our cost the\nfirst time we tried the experiment. This was on a day when we had a\ndifficult mountain to descend, and we thought we would lighten\nBuckskin\u2019s load by putting Ben on another horse that was carrying less\nweight. We got him settled on Baldy, as we called the other cayuse,\nwithout any trouble, and started out in the usual order; but just as we\nwere on a particularly steep part of the hill, working our way down\nthrough a track of burned but still standing timber where the dry dirt\nand ashes were several inches deep and the dust and heat almost\nunbearable, there was a sudden commotion in the rear. We turned to see\nwhat was happening, and out of a cloud of dust and ashes Baldy bore\nfrantically down upon us. His back was arched and with his head down\nbetween his fore-legs he was giving one of the most perfect exhibitions\nof the old-school style of bucking that any one ever saw.\n\nNow it is useless to try to catch a bucking horse on a steep mountain\nside. The only thing to be done was to get out of the road and wait\nuntil the frightened animal either lost its footing and rolled to the\nfoot of the declivity or reached the bottom right side up and stopped of\nits own accord. So we jumped to one side. But, just as Ben and his\nmaddened steed enveloped in a cloud of ash dust swept past the balance\nof the now frightened horses, the pack hit against a dead tree whose\nroot had nearly rotted away and the result completed the confusion. For\nthe force of the shock first dislodged a large section of loosely\nhanging bark which came down with much noise, striking the head\npackhorse squarely across the back; and this was almost instantly\nfollowed by the falling of the old tree itself, which came down with a\ncrash of breaking limbs and dead branches, and sent up a cloud of dust\nthat completely hid Ben and his cavorting mount as they tore down the\nmountain. This was too much for the leading pony, who already stood\nshivering with excitement, and turning sharp to the right he shot off\naround the side of the mountain.\n\nThe other horses were quickly tied up, and while Spencer hurried after\nthe runaway leader I took down through the burned timber after Baldy.\nHad the latter known how hard it had been to shake that same little bear\nfrom the limb of the old tree, he never would have spent so much energy\nin trying to buck him off the top of the pack. Ben had not looked in the\nleast troubled as he was hurried past us, but had apparently felt\nhimself complete master of the situation. He had, however, almost\ninstantly disappeared from view, and soon even the sound of the bounding\npony and the breaking of the dead branches as the pack hit them was no\nlonger to be heard. The only things that marked their course were the\ndeep imprints of the pony\u2019s feet and the dust cloud that was settling\ndown among the dead and blackened timber. Hurrying along this easily\nfollowed trail I at last reached the bottom of the gorge and found the\ntracks still leading up the opposite slope. But the horse had soon tired\nof the strenuous work of the steep ascent, and after a couple of hundred\nyards he had come to a standstill in a thick clump of trees and\nunderbrush that had escaped the fire. Ben was still sitting in his place\nas unconcerned as though nothing had happened, but was liberally covered\nwith ashes and did not seem to be in the best of humors. The pack did\nnot appear to have slipped any and so I undid the lead rope and started\nback toward where the pack train had been left.\n\nBut when only a few yards on the way the pony suddenly bolted ahead,\nnearly knocking me down as he tried to get past. I brought him to a halt\nwith a few sharp yanks on the rope, and then kept a careful eye to the\nrear to find out what it was that was startling him. I did not suspect\nBen because none of the horses had ever shown the least fear of him, had\nalways allowed him to run about them as they did the dogs, and no one of\nthem had ever even kicked at him. Nevertheless I had noticed that the\ncub seemed grumpy when we put him on Baldy, and remembered that at first\nhe had bawled and tried to get down. So I kept my eye on him. And the\nfirst thing I knew I saw him push out his upper lip, as all bears do\nwhen mad and out of humor, reach out stealthily one of his hind legs,\nand with a sharp stroke drive his catlike claws into Baldy\u2019s rump. So\nhere was the cause of all the trouble. Ben, objecting to the change of\nprogramme, had been taking it out on the horse. I at once tied him up so\nshort that he could not reach the horse from the pack, and, although he\nwas in a huff all that day, we had no further trouble with him. Only\ntwice after this, however, did we mount him on any other horse but his\nown Buckskin.\n\nEach day\u2019s travel now brought us nearer to the main range, and one day\nwe climbed the last ridge and camped on the border of one of the\nbeautiful summit meadows where grow the camas, the shooting-star, the\ndog-tooth violet, the spring beauty, and other plants that the grizzlies\nlove. The snow, by now, had disappeared, except the immense banks lying\nin the deep ravines on the north side of the upper peaks; the marshes\nwere literally cut up by the tracks of deer, elk, and moose; while\nfreshly dug holes and the enormous tracks of grizzlies told us plainly\nthat we had reached the happy hunting ground. And now I began to learn\nfrom Ben much about the wonderful instincts of animals. Ben had never,\nbefore we captured him, had a mouthful of any food except his mother\u2019s\nmilk. Not only had the family just left the winter den in which the\nlittle cubs had been born, but the earth at that time, and for long\nafter, had been covered deep with snow. So that there was nothing for\neven a grown bear to eat except some of the scant grasses that our\nhorses found along the little open places on the sides of the hills, or\nthe juices and soft slimy substances to be found beneath the bark of the\nmountain spruce trees in the spring and early summer.\n\nBut now, while camped near this mountain meadow, Ben would pull at his\nleash and even bawl to get loose, and I soon took to letting him go and\nto following him about to learn what it was that he wished to do. I was\namazed to find that he knew every root and plant that the oldest bears\nknew of and fed upon in that particular range of mountains. He would\nwork around by the hour, paying not the least attention to my presence;\neat a bit of grass here, dig for a root there, and never once make a\nmistake. When he got something that I did not recognize, I would take it\naway from him and examine it to see what it was, and in this way I\nlearned many kinds of roots that the bears feed on in their wild state.\nI have seen Ben dig a foot down into the ground and unearth a bulb that\nhad not yet started to send out its shoot. Later, when the time came for\nthe sarvis berries and huckleberries to ripen, he would go about pulling\ndown bushes, searching for berries. And not once in the whole summer did\nI ever see him pull down a bush that was not a berry bush. This was the\nmore remarkable because he would occasionally examine berry bushes on\nwhich there happened to be no berries at the time.\n\nAt our next camp we killed a small moose for meat, and the hide was used\nduring the remainder of the trip as a cover for one of the packs. After\na few days in the sun it dried as hard as a board and of course took the\nshape of the pack over which it had been used. And this skin box now\nbecame Ben\u2019s home when in camp. It was placed on the ground, Ben\u2019s\npicket pin driven near it, and he soon learned to raise up one edge and\ncrawl inside. It was funny, when he had done some mischief in camp and\nwe stamped our feet and took after him, to see him fly to the protection\nof his skin teepee, and raise the edge with one paw so quickly that\nthere was no apparent pause in his flight. Then, safe inside, we would\nhear him strike the ground with his forefoot and utter angry \u201cwhoofs,\u201d\ndaring us to come any nearer. After a few minutes the edge of the hide\nwould be lifted a few inches and a little gray nose would peep out to\nsee if the coast was clear. If no notice was taken of him he would come\nback into camp, only to get into trouble again and be once more shooed\nback to cover.\n\nBen took great pride in this home of his and was an exemplary\nhousekeeper, for no insect was ever permitted to dwell in the coarse\nhair. At first, when the hide was green, the flies would crowd into the\nhair and \u201cblow,\u201d or deposit their eggs. These Ben never allowed to\nhatch. As soon as he was off his pony he would get to work on his house,\nand with much sniffing and clawing, would dig out and eat every egg to\nbe found. And not one ever escaped his keen little nose. Many times in\nthe night we would hear him sniffing and snuffing away, searching out\nthe fly-blows.\n\nHe grew to be more of a pet each day and he still juggled his ball of\nrope. Indeed, he got to be a great expert at this trick. He knew his own\nfrying-pan from the others, and would set up a hungry bawl as soon as it\nwas brought out. His food in camp was still flour and water, a little\nsugar, and condensed milk. This we fed him for more than a month, after\nwhich we cut out the milk and gave him just flour and water with a pinch\nof sugar. He did not care about meat and would eat his frying-pan food,\nor bread, in preference to deer or moose meat. Sometimes, when we killed\na grizzly, we would bring in some of the meat and cook it for the dogs.\nThis was the only meat that Ben would touch and very little of that. But\nalthough he occasionally consented to dine on bear meat, he showed\nunmistakable signs of temper whenever a new bear-skin was added to our\ngrowing pile of pelts. On these occasions, even before the hide was\nbrought to camp, we would find him on our return in a towering rage. No\namount of coaxing would induce him to take a romp. Not even for his only\nfour-footed friend, Jim, would he come out of his huff. He would retreat\nbeneath his moose-skin house, and we could hear him strike the ground,\nchamp his jaws, and utter his blowing \u201cwhoofs.\u201d I was never able to make\nout whether he resented or was made fearful by the killing of his kind,\nor whether it was the smell of the grizzlies, of which the Black Bear is\nmore or less afraid, that affected him. He still remembered his mother,\nand on every occasion when he could get to our pile of bear hides he\nwould dig out her skin\u2014the only Black Bear skin in the lot\u2014sniff it all\nover, and lie on it until dragged away. Indeed he seemed to mourn so\nmuch over it, even whimpering and howling every time the wind was in the\nright direction for him to smell it, that we finally had to keep this\nhide away from camp.\n\nOne day a little later on, as we were working our way toward the Montana\nside of the mountains, we arrived after a hard day\u2019s work at the bank of\na large stream flowing into the middle fork of the Clearwater River. As\nthe stream to be forded was a swift and dangerous one, and as we had as\nhigh a mountain to climb on the other side as the one we had come down,\nwe decided to go into camp and wait till morning to find a practicable\nford. In this deep canyon there was no feed for the horses, and not even\nenough level ground on which to set up our tent. So the horses were tied\nup to the trees, supper was cooked and eaten, Ben\u2019s \u201ccoop,\u201d as we called\nhis skin house, was placed under a tree, and then each of us rolled up\nin his blankets and was soon lulled to sleep by the roar of the water\nover the boulders that lined the river\u2019s bed.\n\n\n[Illustration: Ready for the start]\n\n\nWe were up and ready for the start before it was fairly light in the\ndeep canyon, and, on account of the dangerous work ahead of us, both in\nfording the river and in climbing the opposite mountain, we determined\nto put Ben on a pony that could be led. We were careful, however, to tie\nhim up short enough to prevent any repetition of his former antics. I\nthen mounted my riding horse, a good sure-footed one, and, with the lead\nrope of Ben\u2019s horse in my hand, started for the other shore. The first\ntwo-thirds of the ford was not bad, but the last portion was deep and\nswift, the footing bad, and the going dangerous. However, by heading my\nhorse diagonally down-stream, and thus going with the current, we\nsucceeded in making the opposite bank in safety and waited for Spencer\nand Jack to follow. They got along equally well until near the bank on\nwhich I stood, when Spencer\u2019s horse slipped on one of the smooth rocks\nand pitched his rider over his head into the swirling water. With a pole\nwhich I had cut in case it should be needed I managed to pull the\nwater-soaked fellow out of the current, however, and when we had seen\nonce more to the security of the packs we started on the steep climb\nahead of us. There was not so much as an old game trail to mark our way,\nand the hill was so steep that we could only make headway by what are\nknown as \u201cswitchbacks.\u201d Our one desire now was to get up to where we\ncould find grass for the horses, and a place level enough to pitch a\ntent and to unpack and give the ponies a few days in which to rest up.\n\nThe horse on which Ben had been mounted for the day was called Riley,\nand, as I have already said, we had selected him for his steady-going\nqualities and his reliability in leading. But just as we reached a\nparticularly steep place about half-way up the mountain, Riley suddenly\nstopped and threw his weight back on the lead rope, which was lapped\naround the horn of my riding saddle, in such a way that the rope parted,\nthe horse lost his balance, and falling backward landed, all four feet\nin the air, in a hole that had been left by an upturned root. We at once\ntied up the rest of the horses to prevent them from straying, and,\ncutting the cinch rope to Riley\u2019s pack, rolled him over and got him to\nhis feet again. We then led him to as level a spot as we could find and\nonce more cinched on the saddle, and, while Spencer brought the various\narticles that made up the pack, I repacked the horse. All this time\nnobody had thought of Ben. In the excitement of rescuing the fallen\nhorse he had been completely forgotten, and when Spencer lifted the pack\ncover, which was the last article of the reversed pack, he called out in\nconsternation, \u201cHere\u2019s Ben, smashed as flat as a shingle.\u201d When we\nrushed to examine him we found that he still breathed, but that was\nabout all; and after I got the horse packed I wrapped him in my coat,\nplaced him in a sack, and hanging this to the horn of my riding saddle,\nproceeded up the hill.\n\nIn the course of a couple of hours we reached another of those ideal\ncamping spots, a summit marsh, and here we unpacked the horses, turned\nthem loose, set up our tent, and then looked Ben over to see if any\nbones were broken. His breathing seemed a little stronger, so I put him\nin the sun at the foot of a large tree and in a few minutes he staggered\nto his feet. We always carried a can-full of sour dough to make bread\nwith, and Ben was extravagantly fond of this repulsive mixture which he\nconsidered a dainty. I now offered him a spoonful of it, and as soon as\nthe smell reached his nostrils he spruced up and began to lap it from\nthe spoon; and from that time on his recovery was rapid. The next day he\nwas as playful as ever and seemed none the worse for his close call.\n\nSpencer had a great way, when we were about camp and Ben was not\nlooking, of suddenly scuffling his feet on the ground and going\n\u201cWhoof-whoof!\u201d to frighten the cub. This would either send Ben flying up\na tree or start him in a mad rush for his moose-skin house before he\nrealized what the noise was. But one evening after this trick had been\nsprung on the cub several times, we came into camp well after dark,\ntired, hungry, and not thinking of Ben; and as Spencer passed a large\ntree there was a sudden and loud scuffling on the ground at his very\nheels and a couple of genuine \u201cwhoof-whoofs\u201d that no one who had ever\nheard a bear could mistake. Spencer made a wild leap to one side and was\nwell started on a second before he thought of Ben and realized that his\npupil had learned a new trick and had incidentally evened things up with\nhis master.\n\nThe acuteness of Ben\u2019s senses was almost beyond belief. Nothing ever\nsucceeded in approaching our camp without his knowing it; and this not\nonly before we could hear a sound ourselves, but before we could have\nexpected even his sharp ears or sensitive nostrils to detect anything.\nHe would stand on his hind feet and listen, or get behind a tree and\npeer out with one eye, and at such times nothing would distract his\nattention from the approaching object. Moreover whenever he had one of\nthese spells of suspicion something invariably appeared. It might prove\nto be a moose or a deer or an elk, but something would always finally\nwalk out into view. He was far and away the best look-out that I ever\nsaw. We used to amuse ourselves by trying to surprise him on our return\nto camp; but, come in as quietly as we might, and up the wind at that,\nwe would always find him standing behind a tree, peering around its\ntrunk with just one eye exposed, ready to climb in case the danger\nproved sufficient to warrant it. One day after we had crossed the divide\nof the Bitter Root range into Montana, where we had gone to replenish\nour food supply before starting on our return trip, we camped in a\ncanyon through which flowed an excellent trout stream. We were still\nmiles from any settlement and had no idea that there was another human\nbeing in the same county. I was lying in the shade of a large tree with\nBen, as his habit was, lying beside me with his head on my breast, to\nall appearance fast asleep. Suddenly he roused, stood up on his hind\nlegs, and looked up the canyon. I also looked but, seeing nothing,\npulled the bear down beside me again. For a while he was quiet, but soon\nstood up again and gazed uneasily up the creek. As nothing appeared I\nagain made him lie down; but there was plainly something on his mind,\nand at last, after nearly half an hour of these tactics, he jumped to\nhis feet, pushed out his upper lip, and began the blowing sound that he\nalways made when something did not suit him. And there, more than two\nhundred yards away and wading in the middle of the creek, was a man,\nfishing. In some way Ben had been aware of his approach long before he\nhad rounded the turn that brought him into sight of our camp.\n\nWe remained in Montana long enough to visit the town of Missoula, lay in\na supply of provisions, ship our bear-skins, buy a small dog-chain and\ncollar for Ben, who was getting too large for his buck-skin thong, and\nrest the horses. Then, O\u2019Brien having determined to try his fortune in\nthe mining camps, Spencer and I turned our faces to the West and started\nback over the same three hundred miles of trackless mountains.\n\nIt was well into September when, after many happenings but no serious\nmisadventures, we arrived at a small town on a branch of the Northern\nPacific Railway one hundred and twenty-five miles from Spokane; and here\nwe decided to ship not only our new store of furs, but our camp outfit\nas well. From here on our way lay through open farm lands, and we could\nfind bed and board with the ranchers as we travelled.\n\n\n[Illustration: Ben tries on his new chain and collar]\n\n\nBen was still the same jolly fellow, but now grown so large that by\nstanding on his hind feet he could catch his claws in the hair cinch of\nthe saddle and relieve us of the trouble of lifting him to the back of\nhis mount. He and Jim remained the best of friends. Spencer continued to\nteach the cub new tricks. Ben could now juggle not only the ball, but\nany other object that was not too heavy for his strength, and he spent\nmany hours at the pastime. While we were packing the baggage Ben\nattracted the attention of the entire population. The children, being\ntold that he was gentle, brought him ripe plums and candies and he was\nconstantly stuffed as full as he could hold, and not unnaturally took a\ngreat fancy to the kids. They were always ready to play with him,\nmoreover, and his entire time at this place was divided between eating\nand wrestling with the youngsters. And when we left Ben received an\novation from the whole community.\n\nBen and Buckskin caused no end of sensations in passing through the\ncountry. We often came across loose horses feeding along the highway,\nand these nearly always wished to make our acquaintance. They would\nfollow Spencer and myself for a while, and then turn back to see if the\npony loitering in the rear was not more friendly. And Buck on these\noccasions would hurry ahead, more than anxious to meet them. But they\nnever waited for an introduction. With loud snorts and tails in the air\nthey either shot away across the open fields or tore madly past us up\nthe turnpike, while Buckskin stood looking after them in puzzled\ndisappointment.\n\nOne day, just as we were rounding a turn in the road, we met a farmer\nand his wife driving a two-horse buggy. Buckskin had just come loping up\nand was only a few yards behind us, and the sight of a bear riding a\nhorse so pleased the farmer that he paid little attention to his horses,\nwho almost went crazy with fright. Buck looked at the dancing team in\namazement, and Ben was as much interested as any one. But the woman, in\nthe very beginning, took sides with the farm team, and sat with\nterrified eyes clutching her husband\u2019s arm and yelling for him to be\ncareful. Finally her fright and cries got on his nerves, and he stopped\nlaughing long enough to shout \u201cWILL YOU SHUT UP?\u201d in a voice that\neffectually broke up the meeting.\n\nOne night we asked for lodging at a farm run by an old lady. As I\nknocked at the door of the house and proffered our request she at once\ngave her consent, and directed us to the rear of the stable, where we\nwould find hay for our horses and where we could spread our blankets for\nthe night. Next morning we paid our bill, and as we left the yard the\nold lady, who was at the door to see us off, called out to know if all\nfive of those horses were ours. I told her that they were and asked what\nshe meant, and she said that she had only charged us for feed for three.\nShe had, she explained, been so taken up with looking at that fool bear\nriding a horse that two of the horses had escaped her notice.\n\nAt last we reached Spokane and Ben\u2019s horseback riding came to an end. He\nhad covered more than a thousand miles of mountain and valley and ridden\nfor nearly four months. I fitted up a woodshed for him with a door\nopening into a small court, where an old partly rotted log was put to\nremind him of the forest. He soon became a great favorite, and as no one\nwas allowed to tease him he continued to be friendly and gentle.\n\nThis shed in which Ben lived had the earth for a floor, and adjoining it\nthere was a carriage-house with a floor some ten or twelve inches above\nthe ground. One day soon after Ben was placed in the shed I came home\nand found a large pile of fresh earth and a hole leading down under the\ncarriage-house. I could hear Ben digging and puffing at the bottom of\nit, and when I called he came out, his silky black coat covered with\ndirt. I had never seen him dig before, unless it was for a root, or the\ntime I had buried him alive to hush his crying in the little cave in the\nBitter Roots; and it was several days before I understood what he was\nabout. Then it came to me that he was building himself a winter home. I\nhave learned since that bears in captivity by no means always show a\ndesire to hibernate; but Ben had the instinct thoroughly developed. And\ninstinct it was, pure and simple, for he had never seen a bear\u2019s den\nexcept the one that he left as a tiny cub on the day that his mother was\nkilled. He evidently regarded the work as a most serious and important\nundertaking, and I watched his labors with much interest. He devoted\nseveral hours each day to shaping his cave and at times would break\nsuddenly away in the very middle of a romp and hurry to his digging. If\nI caught him by his short tail and dragged him out of the hole, he would\nrush back to his work as soon as released. I even enlarged the entrance\nso that I could crawl in and watch him work, and on one or two occasions\nI undertook to help him. But, while he would not resent this, my work\ndid not seem to please him, as he moved the dirt which I had dug and\nresettled it to suit himself. He piled loose earth up under the floor of\nthe carriage-house and pushed and jammed it tight up against the boards\nuntil there was not a crack or space left through which a draught could\nreach him. The hole itself he made about four feet in diameter and about\nthree feet deep; and when this part of the work was finished he turned\nhis attention to furnishing his home. He found some cast-off clothing in\nthe alley near his shed and dragged it into his den under the\ncarriage-house. After arranging this first instalment he hurried out to\nlook for more, and for several evenings the furnishing of the sleeping\napartment occupied the major part of his time. Once he came back\ndragging a fine cashmere shawl that he pulled off a clothesline where\none of the neighbors had hung it to air! Not until the floor of his den\nwas several inches deep in rags did he give up foraging and once more\nreturn to his usual habits.\n\nAnd then, one morning, when I went to the shed for kindling, there was\nno Ben to greet me. The ground was buried several inches deep in snow\nand quite a drift had sifted through the crack under the door; and I saw\nby following Ben\u2019s chain that it led down under the carriage-house, and\nknew that he was now enjoying the comforts that he had made ready a\nmonth before. As long as the severe weather lasted Ben remained in his\ncave. But there was nothing either mysterious or curious about his\ncondition. Sometimes, in the coldest weather, I would call him out and\nhe never failed to come. It usually took three calls to bring him\nhowever. At my first cry of \u201cBen!\u201d there would be no sound; then, at a\nlouder \u201cBen!\u201d there would be a shaking of the chain, then quiet again;\nbut at the third peremptory call there would be a few puffs and snorts\nand out he would come, fairly steaming from the warmth of his house. I\noften tried to get him to eat at such times, but he would only smell of\nthe food; then he would stand up on his hind feet with his forepaws\nagainst my shoulders, lap my face and hands with his tongue, and crawl\nback to his nest. Several times I crept down into his den to find out\nhow he slept. He was curled up much as a dog would be and seemed simply\nto be having a good nap. The amount of heat that his body gave out was\nastonishing. I have thrust my hand under him as he slept and it actually\nfelt hot. The steam, too, that came up through the cracks of the floor\nof the carriage-house not only covered the carriage with frost but\ncoated the whole inside of the room.\n\nFor more than a year, or until he got so large and rough that he broke\nthe rockers from several chairs that he upset in his mad gallops around\nthe rooms, he was allowed the privilege of the house. He used to stand\nup and touch the keys of the piano gently, then draw back and listen as\nlong as the vibration lasted. He was fond, too, of being dragged about\non his back by a rope that he held fast in his teeth. He never tired of\nthis sport and would get his rope and pester you until you gave him a\ndrag to get rid of him. He had several playthings with which he would\namuse himself for hours, and one of these was a block of wood that had\nreplaced the rope ball that he had been used to juggle on his trip\nthrough the Bitter Roots. Another was ten or twelve feet of old garden\nhose. This he would seize in his teeth by the middle and shake it as a\ndog would shake a snake until the ends fairly snapped. Once, when he had\nhold of the hose, I put my mouth to one end and called through it. He\nwas all attention at once and when I called again he took the opposite\nend in his paws, seated himself squarely on the ground, and held one eye\nto the opening to see where the sound came from. This sitting down to\nthings was characteristic of him. He would never do anything that he\ncould sit down to until he had deliberately settled himself in that\ncomfortable position. A mirror was a great puzzle to him and he never\nfully solved the riddle of where the other bear kept himself. He would\nstand in front and look at his reflection, then try to touch it with his\npaw. Finding the glass in the road, he would tip the mirror forward and\nlook behind it; then start in and walk several times around it, trying\nto catch up with the illusive bear.\n\nBut Ben\u2019s desire to catch the looking-glass bear was as nothing to his\ndetermination to catch the kitchen cat. This was his supreme ambition,\nand, although he never realized it, there was one occasion on which he\ncame within sight of success. When he was a small cub and admitted\nfamiliarly to the house he had often chased the cat around the kitchen\nuntil everything had been upset except the stove; or until the cat,\nwatching her chance, had escaped to the woodshed to go into hiding for\nan hour to get her nerves quieted down. But his final banishment from\nthe house had established a forced truce between them. He was not\nallowed in her territory, and she took care not to trespass on his. One\nday, however, when Ben was nearly two years old, he was, for some reason\nor other, allowed to come into the kitchen for a few moments. And as he\nentered the room he spied the cat. Instantly his forgotten dreams\nreturned; and when pussy, her tail fluffed up to four times its rightful\nsize, took refuge in the kitchen pantry, Ben very deliberately crossed\nthe kitchen and blocked the pantry door. For a few seconds the two\nglared at each other and then, with a spit and a yowl, the cat made a\nmad dash around the pantry shelves and, amid the din of falling stew\npans, vaulted clear over the bear\u2019s head and crouched by the wood box\nbehind the stove. Now Ben, when a small cub, had been used to going\nunder that stove, and he saw no reason for not taking the same old\nroute. His head went under all right, but for an instant the massive\nshoulders stuck. Then the powerful hind feet were gathered under him,\nthere was a ripping of linoleum as the sharp nails tore through it, the\nhind legs straightened out, and the stove went over with a mighty crash.\nA dozen feet of stove pipe came tumbling down, the room was filled with\nsmoke, and from underneath the wreck a frightened cat leaped through the\ndoor closely followed by a disappointed bear. This was Ben\u2019s last visit\ninside the house.\n\nAs he grew older and larger, he remained as kindly and good-natured as\never. He would still tumble about with Jim, although the dog could now\nstand very little of this kind of play; for Ben did not know how strong\nand rough he was. When, in playing with the boys in back lots, he got\nwarmed up, he would go flying over to a barrel kept full of water for\nthe horses and, climbing upon the rim, would let his hinder parts down\ninto the cool water, turn round up to his chin for a few minutes, and\nthen climb out and take after one of the spectators. When he caught up\nwith any one he would never touch them, but would at once turn and\nexpect them to chase him. Then, when about to be caught, he would go\nsnorting up a telegraph pole. I frequently took him walking in the town,\nbut always on a chain to keep him from chasing everybody. On these\noccasions if he heard any unfamiliar noise he would clutch the chain\nclose up to his collar and sit down. After listening awhile, if he\ndecided that it was safe to proceed, he would drop the chain and our\nwalk would continue. But if the sound didn\u2019t please him he would start\nfor his woodshed on the jump, and after he got to weigh a hundred pounds\nor more I invariably went with him\u2014if I hung onto the chain.\n\n\n[Illustration: A stop for a drink of water]\n\n\nHe still juggled his block, but now he had a new one that was more\nsuited to his size and strength, a piece of log a foot or more in\ndiameter and sixteen to eighteen inches in length. This stick he kept\nfor a couple of years and juggled so much that his claws wore hollows in\nthe ends of it.\n\nWhen Ben was four years old business compelled me to move to the town of\nMissoula, Montana. I could not bear to part with my pet, so shipped him\nby express to the town he had visited on horseback as a tiny cub. Now,\nhowever, the express company charged me for transportation on three\nhundred and thirty-two pounds of bear meat. It was fall when we moved to\nMissoula, and Ben was given a small room in one end of a woodshed and,\nas he had no cave to sleep in, I had the room filled with shavings.\nBen\u2019s arrival was quite an event and roused much interest among the\nyounger element of the town; which at first was shown by about forty\nboys attacking him with sticks and anything that they could hurl at him\nor punch him with. I showed them, however, how gentle and playful he\nwas; got some of the boys to wrestle with him; told them that if they\ncontinued this rough treatment to which Ben was not used I would be\ncompelled to lock him up; and, having had some experience with boys as\nwell as with bears, forbore to tell them what I proposed to do to those\nwho did not listen to me. This explanation and Ben\u2019s evident readiness\nto make friends quite changed the general attitude toward him, but there\nwere a few who refused to see things from my point of view. There was a\nman in Missoula at that time, Urlin by name, who was, or thought he was,\nthe whole show. He was a sort of incipient \u201cboss\u201d; was at the head of\nthe city council, and took it upon himself to see that things in general\nwere run according to his ideas. He had two red-headed sons who aspired\nto occupy a similar position among the boys, and these had been the\nringleaders of the mob that had attacked Ben, and were among the few who\neither could not or would not abandon the tactics of teasing and\npersecution. So, as there was no lock on Ben\u2019s shed, but only a wooden\nbutton, and as it was already late in the fall, I nailed this fast and\nleft the bear in his bed of shavings. That same afternoon, happening to\nlook out of the window of the shop in which I was working, I saw people\nhurrying down the street and went to the door to find out what the\nexcitement was about. Two blocks away, in front of my house, a mob was\ngathering, and I hurried home to find most of the women of the\nneighborhood wringing their hands and calling down all kinds of curses\non my head.\n\nAt first I could make neither head nor tail of the clamor, but finally\ngathered that that bloodthirsty, savage, and unspeakable bear of mine\nhad killed a boy; and upon asking to see the victim was told that the\nremains had been taken to a neighbor\u2019s house and a doctor summoned. This\nwas scarcely pleasant news and not calculated to make me popular in my\nnew home; but, knowing that whatever had happened Ben had not taken the\noffensive without ample cause, I unchained him and put him into the\ncellar of my house, well out of harm\u2019s way, before looking further into\nthe matter. Then I went over to the temporary morgue and found the\ncorpse (needless to say it was one of the Urlin boys) sitting up on the\nkitchen floor holding a sort of an impromptu reception and, with the\nexception of Ben, the least excited of any one concerned. I could not\nhelp admiring the youngster\u2019s pluck, for he was an awful sight. From his\nfeet to his knees his legs were lacerated and his clothing torn into\nshreds; and the top of his head\u2014redder by far than ever nature had\nintended\u2014was a bloody horror. As soon as I laid eyes on him I guessed\nwhat had happened.\n\nIt developed that the two Urlin boys had broken open the door of the\nshed and gone in to wrestle with the bear. Ben was willing, as he always\nwas, and a lively match was soon on; whereupon, seeing that the bear did\nnot harm the two already in the room, another of the boys joined the\nscuffle. Then one of them got on the bear\u2019s back. This was a new one on\nBen, but he took kindly to the idea and was soon galloping around the\nlittle room with his rider. Then another boy climbed on and Ben carried\nthe two of them at the same mad pace. Then the third boy got aboard and\nround they all went, much to the delight of themselves and their\ncheering audience in the doorway. But even Ben\u2019s muscles of steel had\ntheir limit of endurance, and after a few circles of the room with the\nthree riders he suddenly stopped and rolled over on his back. And now an\namazing thing happened. Of the three boys, suddenly tumbled\nhelter-skelter from their seats, one happened to fall upon the upturned\npaws of the bear; and Ben, who for years had juggled rope balls, cord\nsticks, and miniature logs, instantly undertook to give an exhibition\nwith his new implement. Gathering the badly frightened boy into\nposition, the bear set him whirling. His clothing from his shoe tops to\nhis knees was soon ripped to shreds and his legs torn and bleeding; his\nscalp was lacerated by the sharp claws until the blood flew in showers;\nhis cries rose to shrieks and sank again to moans; but the bear,\nunmoved, kept up the perfect rhythm of his strokes. Finally the\nterrified lookers-on in the doorway, realizing that something had to be\ndone if their leader was not to be twirled to death before their eyes,\ntore a rail from the fence and with a few pokes in Ben\u2019s side induced\nhim to drop the boy, who was then dragged out apparently more dead than\nalive.\n\nDr. Buckley, of the Northern Pacific Railway Hospital, carried young\nUrlin to his office, shaved his head, took seventy-six stitches in his\nscalp, and put rolls of surgical plaster on his shins. So square and\ntrue had Ben juggled him that not a scratch was found on his face or on\nany part of his body between the top of his head and his knees. He\neventually came out of the hospital no worse for his ordeal, but I doubt\nif he ever again undertook to ride a bear.\n\nFor a while there was much curiosity in town as to what old man Urlin\nwould do in the matter, and many prophecies and warnings reached me. But\nfor some days I heard nothing from him. Then he called on me and asked,\nvery politely, if I had killed the bear. When I told him that Ben was\nwell and would in all natural probability live for twenty years or so,\nthe old fellow threw diplomacy to the winds and fumed and threatened\nlike a madman. But he calmed down in the end; especially after he was\ninformed by his lawyers that, as his boys had forcibly broken into my\nshed, it was he himself that could be called to legal account. And so\nthe matter was dropped.\n\nBut Ben was now grown so large that none but myself cared to wait on\nhim; and when, the next spring, I found that I was going to be away in\nthe mountains all summer, I began looking about for some way of getting\nhim a good home. Nothing in the world would have induced me to have him\nkilled, and I did not like to turn him loose in the hills for some\ntrapper to catch or poison. Moreover I doubted his ability, after so\nsheltered a life, to shift for himself in the wilderness. But this was a\nproblem in which the \u201cdon\u2019t\u2019s\u201d were more easily discovered than the\n\u201cdo\u2019s.\u201d Weeks slipped by, I was leaving in a short time, no solution had\noffered, and I was at my wits\u2019 end. And then a travelling circus came to\ntown. I sought out the manager, told him Ben\u2019s story, obtained his\npromise of kind treatment and good care for my pet and, with genuine\nheartache, presented the fine animal to him. That was sixteen years ago\nand I have never heard of Ben since. I often wonder if he\u2019s still alive\nand if he\u2019d know me. But of the last I have not a single doubt.\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                             THE BLACK BEAR\n                      Its Distribution and Habits\n\n\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                        CLASSIFICATION OF BEARS\n\n\nSCIENTIFIC naturalists, like other learned gentlemen in large\nspectacles, have a way (or it sometimes seems as though they had) of\nusing very big words about very small matters. For instance, what they\nmight describe as \u201can aquatic larva of _Rana catesbiana_ or other\nBatrachian,\u201d we would call a tadpole. And so on through the list. But we\nare obliged to assume that they have excellent reasons for their choice\nof language, and there is no getting around the fact that if we wish to\nprofit by their wisdom we have to learn at least the simple rules of\ntheir speech.\n\nWe ought, for example, to understand that when a new animal, or a new\nvariety of an old one, is discovered, or rather when it is officially\ndescribed and listed by a naturalist, it is given a special Latin name\nwhich, added to the Latin name of the family to which it belongs,\nthenceforth serves to identify it among all students of natural history.\nMoreover, as a compliment to the man who thus stood god-parent for it in\nthe scientific world, his name is added, in parentheses, to these Latin\ndesignations. Thus the Rocky Mountain grizzly bear is known to technical\nfame as _Ursus horribilis_ (Ord), which, being interpreted, means that\nthis much-misrepresented member of the bear tribe was first described\nofficially by George Ord and was named by him \u201cThe Terrible.\u201d\n\nThere have been many attempts to classify the North American bears; and\nfrom time to time, as new facts come to light, or new students advance\nnew theories as to the relationships of the different species, these\nlists are altered. But before proceeding to give my own observations\nupon the actual habits and characteristics of the common Black Bear, the\n_Ursus americanus_ (Pallas) of the text-books, I reproduce (without\nrecourse) a list of what appear to be the most generally recognized\nvarieties of bears inhabiting the North American continent.\n\n\nThe Polar Bear. _Ursus maritimus_ (Desm.). Polar regions generally.\n\n\n                        THE ALASKAN BROWN BEARS\n\nThe Kodiak Bear. _Ursus middendorffi_ (Merriam). Kodiak Island, Alaska.\n    The largest of all living bears.\n\nThe Yakutat Bear. _Ursus dalli_ (Merriam). Yakutat Bay and seaward\n    slopes of the St. Elias range.\n\nThe Admiralty Bear. _Ursus eulophus_ (Merriam). Admiralty Islands,\n    Alaska.\n\nThe Peninsula Bear. _Ursus merriami_ (Allen). Portage Bay, Alaska\n    Peninsula.\n\n\n                           THE GRIZZLY BEARS\n\nThe Rocky Mountain Grizzly. _Ursus horribilis_ (Ord). Rocky Mountains\n    from Mexico to Alaska.\n\nThe Sonora Grizzly. _Ursus horribilis horri\u00e6us_ (Baird). South-western\n    New Mexico.\n\nThe Barren Ground Grizzly. _Ursus richardsoni_ (Mayne Reid). Great Slave\n    Lake regions and Barren Grounds.\n\n\n                            THE BLACK BEARS\n\nThe American Black Bear. _Ursus americanus_ (Pallas).\n\nScornborger\u2019s Black Bear. _Ursus americanus scornborgeri_ (Bangs).\n    Labrador.\n\nQueen Charlotte Islands Black Bear. _Ursus americanus carlott\u00e6_\n    (Osgood).\n\nDesert Black Bear. _Ursus americanus eremicus_ (Merriam). Coahuila,\n    Mexico.\n\nFlorida Black Bear. _Ursus floridanus_ (Merriam).\n\nLouisiana Black Bear. _Ursus luteolus_ (Griffith).\n\nNorth-western Black Bear. _Ursus altifrontalis_ (Elliot). Clallam\n    County, Washington.\n\nAlberta Black Bear. _Ursus hylodromus_ (Elliot).\n\nThe Fighting Bear. _Ursus machetes_ (Elliot). Chihuahua, Mexico.\n\n\n                 OTHER MEMBERS OF THE BLACK-BEAR GROUP\n\nEmmons\u2019s Glacier Bear. _Ursus emmonsi_ (Dall). Mt. St. Elias region,\n    Alaska.\n\nThe Inland White Bear. _Ursus kermodii_ (Hornaday). South-western\n    British Columbia.\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                      DESCRIPTION AND DISTRIBUTION\n\n\nTHE American Black Bear, or, as our friends with the big spectacles have\nnamed him, _Ursus americanus_ (Pallas), has by very long odds the widest\ndistribution of any North American bear.\n\nThe polar bear stays well inside the Arctic Circle. The big brown\nAlaskan bears are only found in certain localities on or near the\nnorth-west coast of the continent. The grizzlies inhabit, or inhabited,\nthe mountain regions of the extreme west from Mexico to Alaska. But the\nBlack Bear is found in the central and northern parts of the United\nStates and in the central and southern parts of Canada from the Atlantic\ncoast to the shore of the Pacific Ocean; and his half brothers, or first\ncousins, or whatever they are, in Florida, Louisiana, Texas, and Old\nMexico, are so much like him that it takes a specialist and sometimes a\npost-mortem examination to tell them apart.\n\nI have watched and studied these animals in the open for nearly thirty\nyears, and have played eavesdropper and Peeping Tom times out of number\nwhen they were unconscious of my presence; and yet I have had dealings\nwith Black Bears in Texas and Old Mexico whom I would never for a moment\nhave suspected of differing in blood or descent from their northern\nrelatives. However, as we may see from the list already given, the Black\nBears of Florida, Louisiana, Mexico, and certain restricted districts in\nthe North, have been technically recognized as entitled to separate\nclassification. And it is just as well to state clearly that in these\npages all statements (unless otherwise indicated) refer to the common\nAmerican Black Bear, and the term Black Bear, when unqualified, refers\nalways to _Ursus americanus_ (Pallas).\n\nIt is also just as well to call attention in the beginning to a mistaken\nidea that is a very old one and is very generally entertained about\nthese animals. I refer to the belief that there is a difference of\nspecies between the black and the brown or cinnamon-colored individuals\nof the tribe. This notion is so wide-spread that one often hears it\nstated that there are three varieties of bears in the United States: the\nBlack Bear, the Cinnamon Bear, and the Grizzly. But this is a most\nmisleading statement. There are many cinnamon-colored bears, but there\nis no such species as the Cinnamon Bear. Some Black Bears are brown, and\nso are some grizzlies. Some Black Bears are cinnamon-color, and so are\nsome grizzlies. But the difference between the Black Bears that are\nblack and the Black Bears that are cinnamon-color is the difference\nbetween blondes and brunettes; while the difference between a\nbrown-colored grizzly and a brown-colored Black Bear is like the\ndifference between a brown cocker spaniel and a brown setter\u2014one of\nbreed.\n\nThe Black Bear has a head broader between the ears in proportion to its\nlength and a muzzle much shorter and sharper than the grizzly. This\nmuzzle is also almost invariably of a grayish or buff color. The animal\nshows a rather noticeable hump over the small of its back, just in front\nof the hind legs, and these legs are less straight than those of the\ngrizzly and more sloping at the haunches. Its ears are larger. Its eyes\nare small and pig-like. Its claws are short, much curved, very stocky at\nthe base, and taper rapidly to a sharp point. They are far less\nformidable as weapons and far less serviceable as digging implements\nthan the long, slightly curved, blunt claws of the grizzly; but they are\nperfectly adapted to the uses to which their owner puts them. And the\nchief of these uses is climbing.\n\nThe Black Bear climbs, literally, like a squirrel; and from cubhood to\nold age spends a considerable portion of his time in trees. He can climb\nas soon as he can walk and his mother takes clever advantage of the\nfact. She sends her cubs up a tree whenever she wants them off her hands\nfor a time\u2014uses trees, indeed, very much as human mothers who have no\none to watch their children while they work use day nurseries. The first\nthing a Black Bear mother does when any danger threatens is to send her\ncubs up a tree. She will then frequently try to induce the enemy to\nfollow her and, when she has eluded him, will return for the cubs. In\nparts of the country where there are grizzlies, or where there are\nwolves, she will generally thus dispose of her children before herself\ngoing off to feed on berries or other provender. In all my experience I\nhave never known cubs, when thus ordered into retirement by their\nmother, to come down from the selected tree until she called them. They\nwill climb to the extreme top; run out to the ends of all the branches\nin turn, chase each other up and down the trunk, and finally curl up in\nsome convenient fork and go to sleep. But though it may be hours before\nthe old bear comes back for them nothing will induce them to set foot on\nthe ground until she comes.\n\nLater in life the Black Bear continues to regard trees as its natural\nrefuge from all dangers. They will invariably \u201ctree\u201d when pursued by\ndogs, chased by a man on horseback, or otherwise threatened. And a few\nyears ago I witnessed an amusing incident which shows that these are not\nthe only circumstances under which a Black Bear thinks to find safety in\nits favorite refuge. I was engaged at the time in trying to get some\nflash-light photographs of grizzlies, and one afternoon, soon after I\nhad gotten my apparatus set up and was waiting for darkness and the\nappearance of my expected sitters, a violent thunderstorm came up. I had\njust covered my camera and flash-pan with bark peeled from a couple of\nsmall saplings and taken shelter myself under a thick, umbrella-like\ntree, when I saw a small Black Bear coming through the woods and headed\nstraight for my hiding place. At every flash of lightning he paused and\nmade a dash for the nearest tree, but by the time he got there the flash\nwould be over and he would start on again. Finally, there came a\nblinding streak of jagged fire, accompanied by a splitting crash, and\nthe small bear made one jump into the tree that happened to be nearest\nhim, went hand over hand to the extreme top, rolled himself into a\nlittle ball with his nose between his paws, and never moved until the\nstorm had gone by.\n\nBut the Black Bear also resorts to trees of his own accord, using them\nas a loafing place and even as a sleeping apartment. I have seen one\nlying prone on his back on a big limb, all four feet in the air, as\nutterly comfortable and care-free as a fat man in a hammock.\n\nIn regions where the grizzly and the Black Bear are both found, the\nBlack Bear spends much of his leisure among the branches and often has\nspecial trees that he uses as sleeping quarters. Some of these, from\nconstant use, become as deeply scarred and worn as an old wooden\nsidewalk in a lumbering town; and I have seen them that appeared to have\nbeen used for years.\n\nOne sometimes hears it claimed that a Black Bear can only climb a tree\naround which he can conveniently clasp his front legs, man-fashion. They\ncan climb, and that with almost equal ease, any tree that will hold\ntheir weight; from a sapling so small that there is just room for them\nto sink one set of hind claws above the other in a straight line, to an\nold giant so big that they can only cling to its face, squirrel-fashion,\nand behind the trunk of which (also squirrel-fashion) they can hide,\ncircling as you walk around it.\n\nAnother curious fact about the Black Bear\u2019s sharp claws is that these\ninvariably match their owner\u2019s hide in color. A black animal always has\nblack claws. A brown one has brown claws. A cinnamon-colored one has\ncinnamon-colored claws. This is not true of the grizzly. And since, as\nwe will see later, the color of an individual bear often changes with\nthe weathering of its coat, one can approximate the normal, or new-coat,\ncolor of the animal from the color of its claws.\n\nIn order to show more clearly than mere words could do the character of\nthe Black Bear\u2019s claws and their differences from those of the grizzly,\nI have photographed a front and hind foot of each animal and also the\ncorresponding tracks made on the ground, and these photographs are here\nreproduced for comparison and reference. The difference in the fore paws\nwill be seen at a glance; the long, blunt, four-and-a-half to six-inch\nclaws of the grizzly serving to distinguish them unmistakably from the\nshort, sharp, one to one-and-a-half-inch claws of the Black Bear. The\nhind paws are more nearly alike; but one notices at once how markedly\nboth differ from the front paws and how nearly they approximate to\n_feet_. This is true of all bears.\n\nAs, in the West, these two bears are often found in the same localities,\nand as one of the first things an observer of them should learn is to\ndistinguish between their tracks, I shall point out some of the more\nsalient differences between the two.\n\nOn the fore paw of the Black Bear the pad is noticeably rounded in front\nand somewhat hollowed out behind and is, in a general way, rather\nkidney-shaped. It does not show the dent that is so plainly seen on the\noutside of the grizzly\u2019s front paw, and the front edge of it is much\nnarrower. Also, when the track is perfect, the distance between the\nimpress of the toes and the impress of the tips of the claws is much\nless.\n\nOn the hind paw of the Black Bear the front of the pad is also more\nrounded than that of the grizzly and the heel is blunt instead of\npointed. Another difference in shape is shown by the fact that a\nstraight line drawn through the middle toe and along the axis of the\nfoot will, in the Black Bear\u2019s track, exactly hit the heel, while in the\ngrizzly\u2019s track it will fall well to the outside of the heel. The Black\nBear\u2019s hind paw is also more deeply dented at the instep than that of\nthe grizzly.\n\n\n[Illustration:\n1. Front foot of a black bear\n\n2. Front track of a black bear Size, 5 \u00d7 4 inches\n\n3. Front foot of a grizzly bear\n\n4. Front track of a grizzly bear Size, 8 \u00d7 4\u00bd inches]\n\n\nThe feet of the Black Bear are stockier than those of the grizzly and\nmore powerfully muscled\u2014probably as a result of the animal\u2019s climbing\nhabits. On the other hand their fore legs do not show the wonderful\nmuscular development that is one of the marked characteristics of _Ursus\nhorribilis_.\n\nThe Black Bear received its name informally, as it were, from the early\nsettlers of New England, where the overwhelming majority of the species\nhappened to be black and where, by dint of saying, \u201cI saw a black bear\nin the woods this afternoon,\u201d people came to refer to the animal as the\nBlack Bear. Later on the name was sanctioned by scientific baptism and\nthe animal became officially known as the American Black Bear. The\ndesignation, however, as we have seen, is by no means universally\ndescriptive. In the East, and in the Middle West, an occasional brown\nspecimen is met with. But when the Rocky Mountain region is reached\nthere is a bewildering variation in the coloring of the species. The\nmajority of the breed are still black, but at least a quarter and\nperhaps a third of the specimens met with show a different coloration.\nOf these probably the seal-browns are the most numerous; but I have seen\nBlack Bears of every conceivable shade, from a light cream color,\nthrough the yellow browns, to a jet and glossy black never seen in the\nEast. One animal that I watched for some weeks in the mountains of\nWyoming was of a curious olive yellow from tip to tail. In north-western\nMontana and north-eastern Idaho one used to see many mouse-colored, or\nsteel-blue-colored, Black Bears; and around Flat Head Lake, in Montana,\nI have seen a number of albinos. Curiously enough, albino deer used to\nbe found in this same locality. One sometimes hears it declared that the\n\u201ctrue\u201d Black Bear has a white horseshoe on its breast. This is simply a\ndistortion of the fact that many Black Bears, especially black ones,\nhave a \u201cwhite vest,\u201d varying from a few white hairs to a spot six inches\nsquare. Now and then one sees a star, or a shield, or some other oddly\nshaped mark, and sometimes instead of being white these are cream color\nor a dirty yellow.\n\nLike the grizzly, the individual Black Bear may vary in color according\nto the season, the age of its coat, and the weathering that this has\nundergone. An animal that is a glossy black in the fall may, by the\nearly summer of the following year, be a rusty black; or one that is a\nrich brown when it first emerges from its winter sleep, may be a faded\nyellow brown when it has shed its fur and only its hair remains in the\nbeginning of the next summer. But, as far as my observation goes, these\nchanges of color are wholly the result of sun bleach, weathering, and\nwear and tear.\n\n\n[Illustration:\n1. Hind foot of a black bear\n\n2. Hind track of a black bear Size, 8 X 4 inches\n\n3. Hind foot of a grizzly bear\n\n4. Hind track of a grizzly bear Size, 10 X 5\u00bd inches]\n\n\nAll fur-bearing animals have both fur and hair\u2014the long guard-hair\ncompletely covering and protecting the fine fur underneath. This is of\ncourse true of the Black Bear, and it is interesting to note how both\nhair and fur are changed each year, yet without ever leaving the animal\nuncovered. About a month after the bear comes out of its winter den the\nfur begins to drop out, first on the legs and belly, and then on the\nother parts of the body. During this time the animal takes great\nsatisfaction in scratching itself on stumps and bushes\u2014straddling them\non its walks and returning again and again to repeat the operation. From\nthen on the old coat gradually falls out\u2014fur and hair, and at one stage\nthe falling coat hangs in shreds and gives the bear a most wretched and\nmoth-eaten appearance. Meanwhile the new hair is coming in, but not as\nyet the new fur, so that by early summer the bear has a new suit of\nclothes, but no underwear. As fall approaches the new fur begins to\ngrow. And by the time the animal is ready to den up for the winter he\nhas a full new coat. This continues to grow during hibernation and a\nbear\u2019s coat is at its best when the animal first reappears in the\nspring.\n\nThe full-grown Black Bear is, of course, very much smaller than the\nfull-grown grizzly, but it is rather difficult to give any close figures\nfor what might be called a normal specimen. The largest Black Bear that\nI ever actually weighed, myself, tipped the scales at four hundred and\nsixty-two pounds. There had been much discussion about this bear, and\nguesses, before weighing, ranged from three hundred to seven hundred\npounds. This gives a good idea of the danger of putting much faith in\nthe estimates of people who have merely seen an animal in the open, and\nhave no actual data for comparison and upon which to base their opinion.\nI have, first and last, weighed a good many Black Bears, and should say\nthat, when full grown, they range in weight from say two hundred and\nfifty to say five hundred pounds. In some instances they probably go\nover that. As a rule the largest specimens I have seen appeared to be in\nthe prime of life and in the best of condition, but I have seen those\nthat gave every evidence of being old and almost decrepit that would not\nhave weighed over two hundred and fifty pounds.\n\nBen, when I caught him, was about three months old, and would have\nweighed about five or six pounds. When he was a year old he weighed\nabout fifty pounds. The last time I actually put him on the scales he\nweighed three hundred and thirty-two pounds, and I believe that four\nmonths later, when I gave him away, he would have gone better than four\nhundred. This three hundred and thirty-two pounds was actual live\nweight.\n\nWhat may be the life span of the Black Bear in their free state it is\nhard to say. They do not arrive at full maturity or growth until their\nsixth or seventh year, and they probably live well beyond the\ntwenty-five year mark. Mr. William R. Lodge and his father of Cuyahoga\nFalls, Ohio, have a pair of Black Bears that they have had for\ntwenty-two years, that were six months old when they got them, and that\nare still healthy and vigorous. There is no reason to suppose that a\nfree animal would not live at least as long as one confined under\nunnatural conditions.\n\nIn the case of the grizzly I have known and watched for years an\nindividual bear in his home mountains that must have been more than\ntwenty years old and that was still in full vigor the last time I saw\nhim. But I have never happened to keep similar track of any individual\nBlack Bear in the open. I have, however, never seen any Black Bear that\nlooked as old as some grizzlies I have seen.\n\nIt is a curious fact that in twenty-seven years of coming and going in\nthe joint territory of the grizzly and the Black Bear I have never once\ncome upon the bones or the carcass of a grizzly that had died a natural\ndeath. I have, on the other hand, in dens and elsewhere, seen many Black\nBear carcasses and skeletons. Once, in the Selkirks, in British\nColumbia, for instance, we backtracked a Black Bear to the winter den\nthat it had just left, and in this den we found the skeleton of another\nBlack Bear. The one that had wintered there had raked the bones away and\nhad made its bed alongside of them.\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                       CHARACTERISTICS AND HABITS\n\n\nIN this chapter I purpose to bring together in some sort of order the\ncharacteristic habits of the Black Bear as I have personally observed\nthem during many years of life in the open. Of course it is never\npossible to watch a single wild animal from the time it is born until it\ngrows up, lives its natural life out, and dies; nor even to follow one\nthrough the activities of an ordinary year of its life. And even if one\ncould do this, one would have to be very careful not to generalize too\nbroadly from the actions of a single individual. But by the time one has\nseen thousands of Black Bear, let us say, in many parts of their range,\nin all stages of growth, at all seasons of the year, in undisturbed\nenjoyment of their liberty, and free to follow their own instincts of\nwork and play, one is able, by putting two and two together, to piece\nout a pretty accurate knowledge of the species.\n\nOne gets, also, a good working understanding of what traits are\ncharacteristic of all the normal specimens of the race, of what habits\nare dependent upon local conditions and vary as these alter, and of what\nactions are attributable to the personal dispositions of individual\nanimals. For all animals are like men in this, that in minor matters\ntheir habits vary with the conditions under which they live, and that in\nstill less noticeable ways the bearing of different individuals under\nsimilar circumstances is determined by their personal characters.\n\nWhat follows in the present chapter, then, is a summing up of the\ngeneral habits and race characteristics of the Black Bear; and all\nstatements that are not qualified are, in my experience, observable of\nthese animals wherever found.\n\nOf course we all know that the Black Bear is an hibernating animal. That\nis to say that in most, if not in all, parts of its widely distributed\nrange, it passes a portion of the year asleep and without food or drink,\nin a den or some sort of make-shift shelter. We shall have much to say\nlater on about this strange habit, and about some of the queer notions\npeople have about it, but we only mention it here because, since little\nbears are born during the time their mother is in winter quarters, it is\nnecessary to establish winter quarters for them to be born in.\n\nBlack Bear cubs, then, are born in the winter den of the mother some\ntime from the latter half of January to the middle of March, according\nto the latitude and also according to the altitude of the den. The\nfurther north a bear happens to live, and the higher up in the hills it\nhappens to live, the later the spring sets in and so the later the\nanimal comes out of its retirement. And the cubs are born from six weeks\nto two months before the mother comes out.\n\nThe little Black Bears, when first born, are absurdly small and\npitifully helpless. Their eyes, like those of puppies and kittens, are\nshut and do not open for some time. They have no teeth and are almost\nnaked, and although the mother may weigh as much as four hundred pounds\nor more, the whole litter of cubs does not weigh over a couple of\npounds, and single cubs vary from eight to eighteen ounces in weight,\naccording to the number in the litter. A Black Bear will have all the\nway from one to four cubs at a time, and four is not at all uncommon. I\nhave never seen but two grizzlies with four cubs, but I have seen a\ngreat many Black Bears with that many. Three, however, seems to be the\ncommon number throughout the Rocky Mountain region. Of course meeting a\nBlack Bear in the woods with only one cub, even in the early spring,\ndoes not definitely prove that she only gave birth to one; because the\nothers might have died or have been killed. But the records of Black\nBears in captivity show that single cubs are not unknown.\n\nThe young cubs at first are delicate and for a week or two the mother\nnever leaves them, but curls around them and keeps them warm and broods\nthem. They seem, however, to have excellent lungs, for one can hear them\nwhimper if one has located a bear\u2019s hiding place and approaches it after\nthe cubs are born, an experience that I have had more than once in the\nmountains. The Messrs. Lodge, of Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, have supplied\ntheir bears with artificial hibernating dens dug in the side of a hill\nwhere their bear pit is situated. These are supplied with ventilating\nshafts, and the owners, for a number of years, have been able to\ndetermine the exact date of the birth of a litter, by listening for the\nquerulous voices of the cubs. These gentlemen, by the way, have\nendeavored in all possible regards to approximate natural conditions in\nfurnishing accommodations for their captive animals; with the result\nthat they have been among the few successful raisers of Black Bears. I\nwill have occasion to refer more than once to the records which these\ngentlemen have kept during their twenty years\u2019 experience.\n\nFor some time, then, after the cubs are born, the family continues shut\nup in the winter den; but, unlike the grizzly, they frequently, toward\nthe end, leave their shelter before they are ready to abandon it for\ngood. I have seen cases where a Black Bear mother and cubs came out in\ndeep snow, and after wandering about for several miles went back again\nfor a full two weeks before coming out for good. In some cases the\nmother will come out on these preliminary excursions before the young\nare able to walk. But they do not either habitually or finally abandon\nthe den until they can get down to the bottoms where the snow is gone\nand the vegetation has started sprouting. This, by the way, if you\nhappen to live in the neighborhood, is an excellent time to keep a sharp\nwatch on your young pigs.\n\nAt this stage the cubs weigh about five or six pounds and, although it\nis some months before they begin to forage at all for themselves, their\ndevelopment is now much more rapid. I have frequently watched old Black\nBears with cubs in the early summer, but have never seen the young ones\nshow any apparent interest in what the mother was eating, and hence I\nbelieve that in their natural state they are six or seven months old\nbefore they begin the process of being weaned. But although about the\ntime the berries are ripe the cubs take to foraging pretty generally on\ntheir own account, they continue to nurse right through the summer and\nuntil they either den up with the mother in the fall or, as I think is\nmore usual, until they are turned adrift by her before she herself dens\nup alone. In fact I have seen them, late in the year, and when they were\nof a size that should have made them ashamed of such dependence,\npestering their mother as she walked, and getting occasional cuffs for\ntheir persistence.\n\nBen showed no concern whatever over grown-up bear dishes until the berry\nseason came around, when he suddenly developed an appetite for outside\nboard, and not only seemed to want all the various things the hills\nprovided, but would howl lustily if he did not get them.\n\nThe Black Bear, while not much of a traveller, wanders over a fairly\nwide range in search of various foods in their season; yet, broadly\nspeaking, is pretty apt to live and die in the general neighborhood of\nits birth. They wander both day and night, although when they are in a\nregion where grizzlies are also to be found they are careful to\ndisappear about the time that the latter, which are much more nocturnal\nin habit, may be expected to come out. When a Black Bear has young cubs\nshe will stay for a week or two at a time in one place, and will scratch\na nest or bed among the leaves or in a thicket and lie up there between\nfeeds with her youngsters.\n\nThere are few things more interesting than to watch a bear with her cubs\nwhen she thinks herself alone. They are the gayest and most playful\nlittle balls of fur, and she will let them maul her and worry her and\npretend to fight her. But a Black Bear does not, as the grizzly does,\ntalk to her cubs all the time. A grizzly will walk along through the\nwoods with two or three cubs carrying on what appears to be a connected\nconversation. She grunts and whines and makes noises at them that sound\nas though they were full of advice and admonition. They are doubtless\nmerely encouragement or assurances of her presence. But the Black Bear\nis silent except in cases of danger or emergency. Then she, too,\n\u201cspeaks\u201d to her youngsters, and they never seem to be at a loss for her\nmeaning. At any rate they go up a tree at the word of command, and come\ndown again at the grunt that means, \u201cAll right now, come on.\u201d\n\n\n[Illustration: A mother and two cubs]\n\n\nAs the cubs grow larger and stronger the mother wanders farther afield\nwith them, and, from sacrificing all her time and desires to their needs\nand safety, comes gradually first to tolerate, and toward the end of the\nseason rather to resent, their persistent demands upon her. One imagines\nthat it is with a final indifference and relief that she sends them off\nto shift for themselves. For, like other animals, a bear, while showing\nthe most devoted and courageous love for her children while they are\nhelpless, has a very short-lived affection for them once they cease to\nneed her protection. In one instance the Lodges tried the experiment of\nreturning some half-grown cubs to their mother after a comparatively\nshort separation, during which she and her mate had been together in the\nmain pit. The two cubs had only been by themselves for a few weeks, and\nbefore they were finally returned to the pen with their mother they were\nkept for some days separated from her by nothing more than an iron\ngrating. Yet as soon as they were put into the pit with her she seized\none of them and killed it, and was starting up her exercise tree after\nthe other which had taken refuge there when the owners interfered and\nrescued the youngster. Here, as I see it, was a case of artificial\nseparation which, once the mother had accepted, placed her, as far as\nher own feelings went, in exactly the same frame of mind toward her cubs\nas though she had abandoned them in the natural course of things and\ntheir company had afterward been forced upon her.\n\nNeither the Black Bear nor the grizzly is really a sociable animal, but\nfree Black Bears occasionally play together, which grizzlies never seem\nto do. Under ordinary circumstances, however, Black Bears have a funny\ntrick of pretending not to see each other when they meet. If one of them\ncomes into a marshy meadow or a small open glade in the woods where one\nor two others are already feeding, he will make the most laughable\npretence of not seeing them. He will stop at the edge of the opening and\ngo through all the motions of examining the country, carefully looking,\nhowever, everywhere but in the direction of the other bears; all of\nwhich is vastly amusing to one familiar with the keenness of his senses\nand the alertness of his attention, and the practical impossibility of\ngetting within seeing or hearing distance of him without his knowing it.\nMeanwhile the bears already on the ground play their part in the little\ncomedy with all the good will in the world. They have undoubtedly been\naware of the approach of the newcomer long before any human watcher of\nthe scene could have suspected it. But they give no outward sign of\nbeing aware of the new arrival. If, however, the intruder had happened\nto have been a grizzly they would undoubtedly have taken to their heels\nor taken refuge in the nearest tree with loud puffings and snortings\nsome minutes before he reached the scene. Yet these same bears, once\nthey have fed their fill, will frequently go to playing together as one\nnever sees the grizzlies do. Two of them will stand up and wrestle, roll\neach other over and over, chase each other about, and generally have a\nfine romp. As a rule, however, this sort of play takes place between\nbears of different sizes, and the smaller one sometimes gets well thrown\nabout and mauled.\n\nOne of the most entertaining experiences that I ever had in the woods\nwas connected with just such an after-dinner romp between two Black\nBears. I was photographing grizzlies in the Rocky Mountains in Wyoming,\nand had set up my camera and flash-light apparatus near a likely looking\ntrail. My flash-pan was placed on top of a ten-foot pole stuck in the\nground under a small pine tree, and a fine wire was run from the switch\nthat operated the apparatus across the trail and tied to a convenient\nbush. I had completed my arrangements about half-past four in the\nafternoon and had concealed myself in a mass of fallen timber some\nseventy-five or eighty feet away prepared to wait for dusk.\n\nSoon after I got settled I noticed two Black Bears in a little clearing\nto my left and, for something to do, I set to watching them. For some\ntime they fed quietly here and there and then they took to playing. One\nof them was quite a bit larger than the other, but the smaller one was\ngame and though he got considerably the worst of the rough sport they\nkept the play up for quite a while. Suddenly, however, in the very midst\nof an excited wrestling match, the little fellow drew away, stood up on\nhis hind legs and listened for a moment, and then went up a convenient\ntree, his companion following his example and taking refuge in another\none. I was much interested over this turn of affairs and kept a close\nwatch to see what was going to happen next. But, after quite a little\nwait, the bears seemed to make up their minds that it had been a false\nalarm and, coming down from their respective trees, they resumed their\nrough and tumble fun. Not for long, however. It was only a minute or two\nbefore they repeated their former maneuvers, and this time they appeared\nto have no doubt as to the imminence of danger. They had worked their\nway over to my side of the clearing, and when they broke for shelter the\nlittle bear took refuge in the small pine tree under which my flash-pan\nstood, his companion selecting a larger tree a little further away. And\nsure enough, almost as soon as they were well off the ground an old\ngrizzly came stalking dignifiedly out of the woods and down the trail\nupon which my camera was set. But he had evidently noticed that\nsomething questionable was going on, and he walked over toward the tree\nwhere the larger bear was sitting. The latter, conscious of his\nadvantage of position, greeted the grizzly\u2019s approach with a volley of\npuffs and snorts, and after looking around him in a disdainful sort of\nway, the grizzly sauntered over toward the smaller bear\u2019s tree, where\nthe same performance was gone through. Here, however, the grizzly found\nsomething that aroused his curiosity more keenly than a mere Black Bear,\nfor he discovered my pole and flash-pan. He stood up on his hind legs\nand easily sniffed the top of the pan and then, discovering the wire, he\nfollowed it without touching it away from the pine tree and across the\ntrail to where it was fastened. Then, his curiosity getting the better\nof him, he raised one front paw and pulled the bush toward him,\nwhereupon the charge of powder exploded with a huge puff of smoke, and\nas I stood up in my retreat to get a better view of the outcome I caught\na glimpse with one eye of a big grizzly turning a double back\nsomersault, while with the other I saw a small Black Bear take one\ndesperate leap from the branches of his pine tree and disappear into the\nwood in huge leaps.\n\nWhen the last act of this little comedy began I had risen to my feet in\norder to get a clear view of what took place, and when the smaller Black\nBear had disappeared into the woods I saw that his larger companion had\nbecome aware of my presence. I once more concealed myself among the\nbranches, but the Black Bear in the tree kept an eye in my direction and\nwhen, at the end of five minutes or so, the smaller bear returned\ncautiously to the scene of his recent discomfiture and began to coax his\nfriend to come down and resume their play, it was amusing to watch the\ncross-purposes at which they found themselves. For the one up the tree\nwho knew of my presence was afraid to come down and yet unable to\nexplain the circumstances to the one on the ground, and he in his turn\nwas utterly unable to make head or tail of the other\u2019s actions. He\nfinally gave up the attempt to persuade him and wandered away into the\nwoods, and at the end of half an hour or so the other bear, evidently\nwith serious misgivings, came carefully down the opposite side of his\ntree and made off at the double quick.\n\nThe Black Bear\u2019s habits of hibernation are less rigid and apparently\nless developed than the grizzly\u2019s. To begin with, they are far less\nindustrious in providing themselves with a den, and less particular in\nhaving it weatherproof and well concealed. The grizzly habitually seeks\nout some natural cave or shelter in the rocks, high up in the mountains,\noften above snow line. This he prepares for occupancy by raking into it\nwhatever he can find in the way of leaves or dried grasses, and\nsometimes stops up with earth and stones such holes or openings as would\nexpose the interior to the weather. The Black Bear is far less\nparticular. Any old place that offers him some fair promise of\nprotection and privacy seems good enough for him. He dens up at much\nlower altitudes, goes into winter quarters later and comes out much\nearlier. One of his favorite devices is to dig a hole under the butt end\nof a fallen tree, rake a few leaves into the opening, and then crawl in\nhimself. Sometimes, when the tree is a good-sized one and the roots hold\nthe butt of it a little clear of the ground, he is saved the trouble of\ndigging at all and makes a sort of nest in the space beneath the trunk.\nAt other times he will dig a hole in the soft ground, and, of course,\noccasionally uses caves or other natural retreats if he happens to find\nthem handy. Ben, it will be recalled, dug under the floor of my barn\nwhen it came to be his bedtime.\n\nThe time for denning up varies with the locality and the weather, and\nthroughout the North-west is anywhere from November 1 to January 1.\nUnlike the grizzly, however, the Black Bear will often come out for a\nwhile if a warm spell follows his denning up. The Lodges note that their\nbears, once they are settled in their winter caves, never seem to pay\nany further attention to the weather. But while this is probably the\nrule, I have seen Black Bears out in some numbers late in December after\nthere had been severe freezing weather during which all bears had denned\nup.\n\nThere is some difference of opinion as to their habits further south,\nand some authorities claim that at the extreme southern limit of their\nrange the bears belonging to the Black Bear group do not hibernate at\nall. I incline, however, from what I have seen\u2014or rather failed to\nsee\u2014to the opposite belief; for in parts of Old Mexico where, in the\nspring, I have seen many bears, I have again in the winter time failed\nto see either them or their fresh tracks, and upon making inquiry of the\nIndians have been told that they were asleep.\n\nMoreover, Mr. Charles Sheldon, of New York, who for fifteen years has\nmade a close study of bears in their natural state and has spent four\nyears in Mexico studying bear and sheep, informs me that all the bears\nden up almost as early in those mountains as they do further north, and\nthat he has never seen bears in Mexico come out of winter quarters\nearlier than in the United States.\n\nThere has been much scientific discussion as to the nature of this long\nsleep, and also much popular misconception in regard to its outward\nmanifestations. I do not aspire to a voice in the former, but can speak\nfrom considerable experience in regard to the latter. Many, perhaps\nmost, people seem to think that a bear that has denned up for the winter\nis in some mysterious, and more or less complete state of coma; that its\nbreathing is all but suspended, and that it would be difficult, even by\nviolence, to rouse it. They are very far from the truth. Bears sleep,\nbut are easily roused, quick to scent danger, and ready to abandon their\nretreat and look up a new one if they think it necessary.\n\nBen, at any time during the winter, would rouse if I called him, and\nwould even come to the mouth of his lair for a moment to greet me. I\ncould, moreover, hear him breathing, and sometimes hear him move and\nreadjust himself to a more comfortable position. He was a very lazy,\nstupid, sleepy bear; but never too stupid or sleepy to answer my call.\n\nOne fall in Washington, near Colville in the Calispell Mountains, while\nafter deer, I noticed a strange mass of dead leaves, small sticks, pine\nneedles, and other forest refuse gathered under the tangled trunks of a\nwindfall, where a number of trees had been blown down crisscross. My\ncuriosity was piqued by the queer-looking affair and I climbed along one\nof the tree trunks to see what it was. Suddenly, as I got almost over\nit, the whole mass began to shake and quiver and out came an old Black\nBear and two cubs. This was the only time that I ever actually knew of a\nBlack Bear and her cubs having denned up together. And I have never seen\nmore than a dozen cases where it seemed probable that they had. Later on\non this same trip I saw seven other Black Bear sleeping places, all in\nsimilar situations under tree trunks or tangled down-timber.\n\nOnly a year ago, up at Priest Lake, in Idaho, some friends and myself\ncame across the tracks of a cougar, and, having gone back for dogs, we\nreturned and put them on its trail. We were in full chase along the side\nof a mountain when one of the dogs attracted my attention by the way he\nacted. He turned aside, rushed to a dead tree that lay along the ground,\nand began excitedly sniffing at one end of it. I knew that the cougar\ncould not be there and went over to see what was attracting the dog\u2019s\nattention, and saw instantly that a Black Bear had been denned up under\nthe log, but, disturbed by the dog\u2019s approach, had broken out and made\noff down the mountain in a foot and a half of snow.\n\nThese are merely examples of many such experiences, and I have more than\nonce followed the trail of a bear and seen where it had made itself a\nnew retreat.\n\nWe know, since they lay up no store of provisions, that the bear does\nnot eat during its long retirement, and although, in the north, it would\nbe possible for it to provide itself with water by eating the snow that\nshuts it in, we know that bears hibernating in captivity (a thing by the\nway that they do not often do) neither eat nor drink.\n\nOne odd fact about the whole proceeding is that all bears of the same\nclass in the same locality go into winter quarters and emerge from them\nwithin a few days of each other. In the Selkirk Mountains in British\nColumbia, I have seen where six grizzlies had broken their way through\nseveral feet of snow out of six different caves on the side of a single\nmountain all in one night. In localities where both species are found,\nthe Black Bear come out from one to two months earlier than the\ngrizzlies, and in both species the males emerge two weeks or more before\nthe females with new cubs. But all of each kind come out within a day or\ntwo of each other.\n\nI incline to the belief that in the majority of cases the Black Bear,\nwhen in freedom, breeds every year. Most authorities on bears who base\ntheir opinions upon observations made on captive animals, claim that\nboth the grizzly and the Black Bear breed annually. But a long series of\nobservations and the closest possible attention given to this point has\nabsolutely convinced me that it is the very rare exception when a free\nfemale grizzly breeds oftener than once in two years. I have seen many\nhundreds of grizzly mothers with cubs in the open, and fully as many of\nthem were followed by yearling cubs as by spring cubs. But although (the\nBlack Bear being much more numerous than the grizzly) I have seen many\nmore Black Bears with cubs than grizzlies with cubs, I have never seen\nmore than a dozen Black Bear mothers followed by yearling cubs.\n\nI have therefore been forced to conclude that it is the habit of the\nBlack Bear to wean its cubs and abandon them before denning up the first\nfall. In the case of the grizzly the mother and the cubs den up together\nthe fall following the latter\u2019s birth, and run together during the\nfollowing summer, and it is not until late in the second season that the\nmother turns the cubs adrift to shift for themselves. This family of\nyoung grizzlies then usually den up together and continue to run\ntogether the third summer, at the close of which the litter disbands and\nthe individuals belonging to it take up their separate lives. I have\nalso seen a few litters of yearling Black Bears still running in company\nwithout their mother; but as this is by no means a common sight, I\nbelieve that ordinarily Black Bear cubs den up separately after they\nleave their mother at the close of their first summer.\n\nInasmuch, however, as I have seen a few Black Bear mothers followed by\nyearling cubs, I assume that in these cases the mother and cubs had\ndenned up together in the same manner that the grizzlies habitually do.\nAnd I once actually found an old Black Bear and two cubs so settled for\nthe winter. I have also tracked an old grizzly and her cubs to where\nthey had gone into winter quarters together, and have seen where a\ngrizzly mother and her year-old family had emerged from hibernation in\ncompany the second spring. I have also often seen where a litter of\ntwo-year-old grizzly cubs had wintered together in one cave after\nleaving their mother in their third fall, but I have never seen any\nactual evidence of young Black Bears wintering together in this manner.\n\nI believe that the explanation of this very striking difference of habit\nbetween the Black and the grizzly bears in the matter of breeding\nannually or biennially, is to be found in their different degrees of\nfierceness, and in the resulting fact that the Black Bear cubs are not\nso long in danger from the evil tempers and bloodthirsty dispositions of\nthe grown males of their kind.\n\nA new-born cub of either species would be instantly killed, and probably\neaten, by any old male that got the opportunity; and, unnatural as this\nseems to us, it is true of many or most carnivorous, or partly\ncarnivorous, animals. It is true of rats, as most boys who have bred\nwhite rats have had occasion to discover. The memory of the habit, at\nleast, survives in the fierceness with which even a pet dog with puppies\nwill keep the father of them away from her basket. In all zoological\ngardens it is necessary to separate the male bears from the female at\nand after the birth of cubs, and the habits of mother bears in the woods\nshow that their instincts warn them very effectually of the wisdom of\nthis course.\n\nBut while the Black Bear mother shows no great concern for the safety of\nher cubs after they have reached the age of five or six months, the\ngrizzly mother continues, with good reason, to evade or resent the\napproach of other members of her tribe till well into the second year. I\nhave on two different occasions known of a male grizzly\u2019s killing and\neating a cub that had been left fastened by a chain near a camp; and in\none instance I came upon a grizzly that had just killed a female and had\neaten her two cubs. She had been caught in a steel trap set by a\ntrapper, and her two cubs were with her. The male, finding her in this\npredicament, had doubtless attacked the cubs, and when, hampered as she\nwas by the trap and clog, she had attempted to defend them, he had\nkilled her too.\n\nA female grizzly with young is one of the most dangerous animals in the\nworld. She will allow no other bear of either sex to approach either her\nor them. And this invariable attitude of her fully accounts, to my mind,\nfor her failure to breed while the young are still with her. But the\nBlack Bear mother is not only a comparatively inoffensive animal at all\ntimes, but she seems to have no such lasting distrust of other members\nof her own species. I have often seen an old Black Bear asleep in the\nbranches of a tree with her five or six-months-old cubs frisking around\non the ground, when she must have been well aware that there were Black\nBears of the opposite sex in the neighborhood. This is not to be put\ndown to indifference on her part. It simply means that the necessity for\nwatchfulness has passed. It therefore becomes easily understandable that\nthe Black Bear mother can afford, without risk to her half-grown cubs,\nto breed every year in the open; while the grizzly does not, until her\nyoung are fully able to take care of themselves unaided, dare to\nassociate with their possible enemies\u2014the cantankerous males of the\ntribe.\n\nThe records of the Lodges contain one or two interesting notes relating\nto these matters. The first time that their original pair of Black Bears\nbred they did not separate the mother and father, and the first\nintimation that they had of the birth of cubs was the appearance of the\nfather at the mouth of the den with a dead cub in its mouth. After that\nthey took care to give the female separate quarters. Again, the only two\noccasions during the last sixteen or eighteen years on which this female\nhas failed to breed have been in years when her cubs were allowed to\nremain with her throughout the summer, and when, as the owners state,\nshe was so taken up with them that she refused to have anything to do\nwith her mate.\n\nThis is exactly the attitude that my observations have led me to assume\nas habitual on the part of the free grizzly. And I imagine that the\nBlack Bear mother adopted it in this case because, in the narrow\nquarters of a twenty-foot bear-pit, she was afraid to relax her\nvigilance, as she doubtless would have felt justified in doing in her\nnatural surroundings.\n\n\n[Illustration: Taking a sun bath]\n\n\nAnother point of difference between the two species that agrees with the\nearlier abandonment of its young by the Black Bear is the fact that\nthese appear to breed at least a year earlier than the young of the\ngrizzly. The latter, as we have seen, only separate and den up\nindividually at the end of their third summer and breed the following\nyear at the earliest; but I have seen Black Bear mothers that could not\nhave weighed over a hundred pounds, and that made the most amusing and\nappealing picture of youthful responsibility.\n\nThere is a widespread notion that bears are given to travelling in\ncompany; that they are sociable animals, and that bear families\u2014father,\nmother, and children\u2014are not only to be met with in the woods, but den\nup together for the winter. This is not true. Only mothers and cubs or\noccasionally half-grown cubs of one litter ever travel together. I have\nnever seen the slightest evidence that grown bears, male and female,\never travel in couples, even in the mating season; and I have never\nknown a case where full-grown animals of any bear species denned up\ntogether. These statements apply no less to the Black Bear than to the\ngrizzly.\n\nAnother point on which there is much popular misconception and disbelief\nis the extreme smallness of bear cubs at birth. This, at first glance,\nis not only astonishing, but to many people seems almost incredible.\n\u201cHow is it possible,\u201d they ask, \u201cand why is it advantageous for an\nanimal as large as a bear to have young so small? Why, the puppies of a\nforty-pound dog are as large as the cubs of the four-hundred pound\nbear!\u201d Yet the fact remains, and in the case of the grizzly, where the\nmother sometimes weighs twice as much as the Black Bear mother, the cubs\nare, if anything, a trifle smaller at birth on the average. I have never\nheard the matter explained, but it seems to me that when we consider the\nyearly habits of the bear they tend to suggest how this peculiar\nrace-habit was developed. A dog mother with three or four puppies,\nweighing six or eight ounces apiece at birth, will eat three huge meals\na day and grow thin as a rail nursing her hungry youngsters. What, then,\nwould become of a bear mother who had to nurse three or four cubs for\nsix weeks or two months, with never a meal at all, if the cubs were born\nweighing five or six pounds? It looks very much as though Nature, with\nher usual skill at making both ends meet, had so arranged matters in the\nbear family that, as these animals developed the hibernating habit, the\nsize of the cubs was reduced in proportion to the reduced ability of the\nmother to nourish them. And that three or four eight-ounce cubs do not\nmake any undue demands on the resources of a three-hundred or\nfour-hundred-pound mother is proved by the fact that both she and they\nare normally in excellent condition when they first come out in the\nspring.\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                            FOOD AND FEEDING\n\n\nTHE Black Bear is described as omnivorous. Literally, that means that he\neats everything; and this comes pretty near to being literally true, for\nhe has democratic tastes, a magnificent appetite, and nothing much to do\nbetween meals. Technically, however, the term means that the Black Bear\nis both carnivorous and herbivorous; that he eats flesh like a wolf,\ngrass like an ox, fish like an otter, carrion like a coyote, bugs like a\nhen, and berries like a bird. In short he eats pretty much everything he\ncan get, and pretty generally all he can get of it.\n\nOne would naturally imagine that so thorough-going a feeder would emerge\nfrom his long and complete winter fast ravenously hungry and ready to\nfall tooth and claw upon a hearty breakfast. But this is not so. Indeed,\nwhen we stop to think of it, we can see that even a bear\u2019s cast-iron\nconstitution and digestive apparatus would hardly stand such treatment.\nI have examined the stomach and intestines of a bear killed just as it\ncame out in the spring, and not only found them utterly empty, but\nflattened with disuse. These organs have, therefore, to be treated with\nconsideration and coaxed back gradually to the performance of their\naccustomed functions. Shipwrecked sailors, rescued at the point of\nstarvation, have to be forced by their friends to go slowly until their\nstomachs again get the habit of digestion; and while bears have no\nfriends to do them a like service, they have practised long fasting for\nso many generations that they have developed instincts that serve the\npurpose.\n\nWhen they first come out of the winter\u2019s den they wander around for a\nday or so showing little or no inclination for food. Then they make\ntheir way down to where the snow is gone and the early vegetation has\nbegun to sprout, and eat sparingly of the tender grass shoots. But their\nappetites are not long in returning. By the end of a week the old\nsaying, \u201chungry as a bear,\u201d is more than justified and they start in in\nearnest to make up for lost time. At this season they are especially\nfond of the parsnip-like roots of the skunk cabbage, and I have seen\nmarshy bottom lands so dug over by bears in search of this dainty that\nthey had almost the appearance of having been ploughed.\n\nHere again the experience of the Lodges with their captive bears exactly\nconfirms my own observations in the open. Mr. William R. Lodge writes me\nthat, \u201cWhen they first come out they are not hungry, and the first day\nor two only partake of a bite or two of parsnip or similar food that we\nalways provide and that seems to be their most satisfactory diet after\nthey acquire the habit of eating again.\u201d Later on these Cuyahoga Falls\nanimals are given young dandelion leaves, clover, scraps from the hotel\ntables, berries, watermelons, sweet corn, and acorns. I have no doubt\nthat this diet, so carefully approximated to the natural food of the\nanimal in its free state, has had much to do with the success of the\nowners in inducing them to breed.\n\nWild white clover is another favorite dish of the Black Bear, and they\neat the buds of the young maple shrubs and other tender green stuff.\nThey do not, however, do nearly so much digging as the grizzly. I have\nseen acres of stony ground literally spaded up by the latter in search\nof the bulbs of the dog-tooth violet and the spring beauty. But it is\nonly here and there, where a thin layer of earth covers a smooth\nhillside or ledge of rock and supports a meagre crop of small roots,\nthat the Black Bear will scoop these up and eat them; and apart from the\neasy work of turning over the soft swamp earth for skunk-cabbage roots\nthey are little given to such systematic labor.\n\nHere indeed one sees one of the most striking differences of habit and\ndisposition between the Black Bear and the grizzly. The grizzlies work\nfor their food like industrious men. The Black Bear will work hard at\nany kind of mischief, but seems to hate to work steadily for business\npurposes. The grizzly will dig for hours and heap out cartloads of earth\nand rock to get at a nest of marmots or ground-squirrels. The Black Bear\nmay show an interest in a marmot burrow and do a little half-hearted\nscratching near the entrance, but never digs deep or long for them. As\nfar as I have ever seen, they kill nothing larger, in the way of small\ngame, than field-mice and such small fry. But they are both quick and\nclever at catching these. They will turn over stumps and roll logs aside\nand up-end flat stones and catch an escaping mouse before it goes a\nyard.\n\nFrogs and toads are also favorite tidbits of theirs and they spend much\ntime looking for them. They will walk along the edge of small streams\nand pin down a jumping frog with their lightning-quick paws; and I have\nseen one, when a frog escaped it and jumped into the creek, jump after\nit and land like a stone from a catapult, splashing water for twenty\nfeet.\n\nPractically nothing in the insect line comes amiss to them. They are\neverlastingly poking and pulling at rotten logs, old stumps, loose\nstones, and decaying trees, looking for caterpillars, squash-bugs,\ngrubs, centipedes, and larv\u00e6. Their sense of smell is wonderfully acute\nand one can hear them sniffing and snuffing over the punky mass of an\nold tree trunk they have ripped open, searching with their noses for\ncrawling goodies.\n\nLike all bears they are extravagantly fond of ants, and they are not\nonly experts in finding them, but know how to take advantage of the\nhabits of the various kinds in order to catch them. Their greatest\nfeasts in this line are obtained when they discover the huge low hills\nof what, in the West, are called Vinegar Ants. These are only moderate\nin size, but are extremely vicious. They get their name from a strong\nodor, resembling that of vinegar, that they exhale when aroused. They\nbuild large hills, sometimes several feet in diameter, made up for the\nmost part of pine needles, bits of wood, pellets of earth, and such like\nstuff. They are red and black in color, have powerful jaws, and rush by\nthe thousand to give battle to any intruder that disturbs their home. It\nis this latter trait that makes them an easy prey to the Black Bear.\nWhen he discovers an ant-hill belonging to this species he walks up to\nit, runs one of his fore-legs deep down into the inside of it, gives a\nturn to his paw that effectually stirs things up below, and then\nstretches himself out at ease to await results, with his front legs\nextended to the base of the hill.\n\nOut rush the ants by companies and regiments and brigades; mad as\nhornets, brave as lions, smelling like a spoiled vinegar mill, and\nlooking for trouble. They get it, almost immediately. They discover the\nbear\u2019s furry paws and, struggling and tumbling in the hair like angry\nand hurrying warriors in a jungle, they begin to swarm over them. And as\nfast as they come the bear licks them up. When the excitement dies down,\nhe gives the inside of the hill another poke. This results in another\nsortie of defenders, and when these have stormed the hairy heights and\nbeen eaten for their pains, he repeats the operation. I believe a bear\nwould eat a solid bushel of these insects at a sitting. On the other\nhand, a bear will by no means despise a single ant, and one of the best\nways of making friends with a young cub is to catch a stray ant and\noffer it to him. He will lean forward, sniff at your fingers, and then\ngrab the dainty as eagerly as though it weighed a pound.\n\nThere is another variety of ants, larger than the so-called Vinegar\nAnts, which are black and live, for the most part, under flat rocks.\nThese the bear will lap up with his tongue after uncovering their\nretreat. And there is still another variety of huge black ants that nest\nabout the roots of trees and spend their time exploring the bark and\nbranches. I have seen them sixty feet above ground busily pursuing their\naffairs. Of these, too, the Black Bear is fond, and one sees him\nsnuffing and smelling around the cracks in old trees in hopes of\nlocating a colony of them. I have seen where bears have scratched and\ngnawed at the edges of a narrow opening in the lower trunk of a decaying\ntree, in a vain endeavor to get into the open heart of it; and again,\nwhere they had ripped off a rotting slab and gained a feast. For in cold\nweather these ants gather in sluggish masses and later even freeze\nsolid\u2014I have seen what would make a quart of them so frozen\u2014and seem to\ntake no harm from the cold storage. By the way, the bear is not alone in\nliking this peculiar diet. I have seen French Canadian lumber jacks pick\nup handfuls of these frozen black ants and eat them. One of them once\ninformed me that they tasted \u201cjust the same like raspberries.\u201d\n\nThe Black Bear is also fond of bumble-bees, yellow-jackets, wasps, and\nhornets. He is the bear that is, when occasion offers, the honey-eater;\nbut in the Rockies and Western coast ranges there are few wild\nhoney-bees, and so his taste in that direction is seldom indulged, but\nhe makes up for this by hunting out and eating such bees as he can find.\nHe will dig up bumble-bees and eat them and will lap yellow-jackets off\nhis fur exactly as he does ants. Of course the bear is fully protected\nby his thick coat from any attack by the bees, and if the latter sting\nhis mouth or tongue as he swallows them, he manages to disguise the fact\nvery thoroughly. I have never seen one shake his head or otherwise\nadvertise a mishap of this kind.\n\nBut all these bugs and bees and ants and mice are, after all, but the\nluxuries and dessert of the Black Bear\u2019s diet. He is, for the most part,\na vegetarian, does far more grazing than is ordinarily supposed, and has\nhis real season of plenty and stuffing when the berry season arrives. He\nwill travel miles to get to a berry patch, and even when tamed and half\ndomesticated will often try to escape to the open for this annual feast.\nA chain that has proved amply strong enough to hold a Black Bear captive\nduring the spring and early summer is very likely to turn up broken when\nthe blueberries ripen. Their favorites everywhere are blueberries and\nhuckleberries, and the black and red haws, called thorn-apples in New\nEngland. The sarvis berry is another of their staples. They will reach\nup one paw, draw down a laden berry bush, and grasping it between their\nforefeet will rake the fruit into their open mouths. But the Black Bear\nis less particular in regard to berries than the grizzly. He will eat\npretty much anything in that line, even feeding on the Oregon grape in\nthe Rockies, a food disdained by the grizzly.\n\nIn the East they also feed greedily on acorns and beechnuts, and in the\nWest they eat the seeds that drop out of the pine cones. In the higher\nranges of the Tetons and Bitter Roots, and indeed throughout the Rockies\ndown into Mexico, there is a tree locally called the Jack Pine that\nbears a curious cone two or three inches across the butt and only two or\nthree inches in depth\u2014as broad as it is long, in fact. These cones\ncontain very large and meaty seeds and the Black Bear is very fond of\nthem. The Indians also cook and eat the young cones of the Jack Pine.\n\nIn addition to this the Black Bear has a great habit of peeling the bark\noff of balsam and of Jack Pine saplings, and of lapping the juices and\ngum from the wounds. They also scrape the gummy pulp from the inside of\nthe bark and eat it. The grizzly never does these things. This pulp,\nhowever, is used by some of the Indians, who make a kind of bread out of\nit.\n\nThe Black Bear is fond of fish, but here again shows himself less clever\nand less industrious than the grizzly, who is an expert fisherman. On\nthe Pacific slope of the Rocky Mountains almost every stream has, or\nused to have, its runs of salmon, these fish making their way to the\nupper reaches of the smaller rivers for the purpose of spawning. There\nare several varieties of these fish, and they enter the river and start\non their long, up-hill journeys at different seasons. But one and all\nthey are moved by a single desire\u2014to get as far up stream as it is\npossible to go; and are driven forward by so strong an instinct that\nneither wounds, nor weariness, nor exhaustion, nor the fear of death\nitself, deters them from attempting (and sometimes accomplishing) what\nseems like the impossible.\n\nThey come from undiscovered regions of the sea in uncountable billions.\nIn untold millions they enter the mouths of the great rivers. They turn\noff into each tributary stream by hundreds of thousands. They fill the\ntributaries of these tributaries. And finally one finds them, still in\ntheir hundreds, filling the pools of the smaller rivers, leaping,\nfloundering, all but crawling through the riffles and shallows of the\nsmaller creeks, thousands of feet above the sea, and still undaunted.\n\nAnd few of the invading millions ever find their way back to the ocean\nfrom which they came. From the moment that they enter the mouths of the\nlarger rivers, every living creature, from man downward, begins to take\ntoll of them. Those that pass the nets and salmon wheels of the canning\nfactories, that elude the talons of the eagles and ospreys, that are\nmissed by the paws of the bears and the cougars, the teeth of the otters\nand the mink, arrive at the head-waters of their selected stream in a\npitiable condition of wounds and exhaustion. Their fins are nothing but\nbare spines. Their sides are torn by rocks, they are thin from fasting,\nand when they have deposited and fertilized the eggs that they have come\nso far to find fit hatcheries for, they are, for the most part, utterly\nunable to manage the long return journey. Then they fall an easy prey to\nany animal that finds them. And many animals gather to the feast. Here\nis the free-lunch counter of the wilderness; during the salmon runs\neverything in the mountains lives on fish: bears, cougars, coyotes,\nwolverines, lynx; in Alaska the very geese gorge themselves on salmon;\nand the Black Bear gets his share of the loot.\n\nThe grizzly, as I have said, is an expert fisherman. I have seen one\ntoss out seventeen big salmon in less than an hour, and after eating his\nfill bury the rest of his catch for future use. But the Black Bears only\nfish on their own account occasionally and in very shallow water. They\nwill wander along the trails on the banks of the small streams, and if\nsalmon are struggling over the riffles, will jump in and catch one or\ntwo. But they are too much lacking in patience to wait for the fish as\nthe grizzly does, and too improvident to do more than supply the need of\nthe moment when the opportunity comes unwaited for. And they are quite\nsatisfied, for the most part, to take the leavings of others or to feed\non stranded or dead fish. They often get crumbs from the table of the\ngolden eagle, the bald eagle, and the osprey; and sometimes, when one of\nthese birds catches a fish too heavy to fly away with, a Black Bear will\ndrive the fisherman away and eat his catch for him.\n\nBut we began by saying that the Black Bear was in part carnivorous, and\nso far, we have not justified the claim by anything more fleshy than a\nfield-mouse. The truth is that the Black Bear much prefers to have his\nmeat \u201cwell hung,\u201d as some sportsmen express it. That is to say, he\nreally prefers carrion. Any kind of a carcass makes a strong appeal to\nhim, and I do not believe that meat can be too putrid to suit his taste.\nBen, when he was out walking with me during the time we lived in\nMissoula, would turn aside to sniff over any dead cat or hen that he\ncame across\u2014even if nothing remained of it but dried skin and bones. And\nhe would actually lie down and roll on the find, and, if allowed, would\nthen pick it up in his mouth and carry it home for a nest egg.\n\nBut in spite of his preference for carrion, the Black Bear soon learns\nto take advantage of easily procurable live meat. They are remarkably\nadaptable animals, take kindly to civilization, and accommodate\nthemselves readily to the conditions and opportunities that follow in\nits wake. They very soon realize it if they are free from interference,\nand will, with the slightest encouragement, begin to impose upon you.\nThey will live under your barn with the best will in the world. And\nthey\u2019ll learn to steal sheep. In some localities they get to be a\nserious nuisance in this way. But their favorite civilized dish is young\npig. In some regions the ranchmen in the spring turn their hogs out into\nswamps to feed on the roots of the skunk cabbage; but if Black Bears\nhappen to be plentiful in the neighborhood they are very likely to get\nnot only the skunk cabbage but the pigs as well. There appears to be\nsomething about a shoat that appeals directly to the Black Bear\ninstinct. They learn to be sheep thieves; but they appear to be born pig\nthieves. The summer that I caught Ben, as we were returning to Spokane\nacross the Palouse farming country, we stopped at a ranch over night and\nleft Ben tied under a small shed while we unpacked and stabled our\nhorses. It happened that there was an old sow with a litter of young\npigs in a pen at the rear end of the shed, and that there was a hole in\nthe pen for the young ones to come and go by. And when we came back to\nget Ben we found him lying by this hole with one paw stuck through it,\nwaiting for a pig. And just as we arrived he actually slapped one on the\nnose and almost caught it. And he was only a little larger than the pig\nhimself.\n\nOf course the diet of the Black Bear, like that of the grizzly, and of\nmost other wild animals, depends largely upon the locality in which they\nlive. There are regions where, of necessity, the bear are largely if not\naltogether vegetarians; and others where, at certain seasons, they live\nalmost wholly upon fish or largely upon carrion. It is never safe to\ngeneralize from localized observations as to the food habits of any\nanimal, and it is only very carefully and as the result of a broad\nexperience that one should venture to ascribe to any species the traits\nthat one has observed in individuals. There is one feeding habit of the\nBlack Bear, however, that I believe to be universally typical. They\nnever make caches of food. The grizzlies will, as I have already said,\nbury the fish they cannot eat for future use. They will also drag away\nand bury or hide the carcass of any animal they have found and will\nreturn to feed on it until it is all consumed; or they will carefully\ncover it where it lies with earth and leaves and branches to prevent\nother animals from finding it in their absence. The Black Bear does not\nlook so far ahead. He will carry away a few pounds of meat or bones in\nhis mouth, but beyond that appears to take no thought for the morrow.\nWhen he has sated his appetite on a carcass he will leave it where and\nas he found it. He lives from hand to mouth and is the Happy Hooligan of\nthe woods.\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                           THE HAPPY HOOLIGAN\n\n\nIn this chapter I would like to give some notion of the Black Bear at\nhome. I do not mean \u201cat home\u201d in the society sense of being dressed up\n\u201cfrom four to seven\u201d to receive callers; but in the good old backwoods\nsense of being in your shirt-sleeves with your feet on the table. There\nis a good deal more difference between the two attitudes than appears in\na book on etiquette.\n\nIf you meet a man at an afternoon reception you see one side of him\u2014the\noutside. If you are a member of the local vigilance committee and call\non him officially in the course of business, you get a specialized\ninsight into another phase of his character. But as an old hermit with a\nrat-tailed file for a tongue once said to me in the hills, \u201cYou never\nreally know a man till you\u2019ve watched him through the transom when he\nthinks himself alone.\u201d\n\nIt is pretty much the same with bears. We are all familiar with them as\nseen at their public receptions in the bear pits. We know their company\nmanners. Personally, I can never quite rid myself of the absurd notion\nthat when the guards put the crowds out at five o\u2019clock and close the\nZoo gates for the night, the bears must yawn, stretch their cramped\nmuscles, shake themselves with that lumbering, disjointed violence of\ntheirs, and exclaim in bear language, \u201cThank heaven, _that\u2019s_ over until\nto-morrow!\u201d\n\nFor the rest most of our information about them comes from\nself-appointed vigilantes who, rifle in hand, knock unexpectedly at the\ndoors of their summer residences and do not even offer them the\ncustomary five minutes in which to say their prayers. In their reports,\nas in accounts of other executions, the chief emphasis is laid upon the\nattitude of the victim in the face of death. \u201cThe condemned mounted the\nsteps of the scaffold with a firm tread.\u201d Or, if the animal happened to\nbe gnawing a bone when discovered, \u201cAt the conclusion of a hearty\nbreakfast consisting of ham and eggs and coffee, the sheriff came in and\nread the death-warrant.\u201d Or, best of all, if the unhappy brute ventured\nto show its teeth as the firing squad sighted down the rifle barrel, we\nare informed that, \u201cthe savage and bloodthirsty monster died game.\u201d\n\n\n[Illustration: She began to swing her head from side to side]\n\n\nThis may be good journalism, but it is mighty poor natural history. It\ngives us some insight into the nature of the man behind the gun, but\nvery little idea of the real nature of the bear in front of it. We never\nfind out what the bear would have done if the trigger had not been\npulled. A man once stopped before a plant in my garden and asked me what\nunder the shining sun it was. He had never, he said, seen anything like\nit. As a matter of fact it happened to be a cabbage that had gone to\nseed; but the man, who had always killed his cabbages as soon as their\nhides were prime, did not even know they bore seed. And he rather\nfancied himself as an amateur gardener, too. It is much the same in the\nwoods. If you kill your bear just as soon as it begins to act natural,\nyou may get to be an authority on hides, but there will be a lot of\nthings that you don\u2019t know.\n\nWe are not here discussing the ethics of killing. That is a question\nquite apart. Goodness knows that there is little enough glory\u2014since\nthere is little or no risk\u2014in killing a Black Bear. To chase a timorous\nand inoffensive animal up a tree and then to stand underneath and shoot\nit is no very great achievement. The sport is altogether in the mind of\nthe sportsman. It is a good deal like dressing up in a brown cotton\nimitation of a fringed buckskin hunting shirt and stalking the spring\ncalf in the east pasture with an air-gun. It\u2019s exciting\u2014until you find\nout what it really amounts to. But you have to manufacture your own\nexcitement. The point I wish to make is simply this: that if you want to\nfind out how an animal lives, you must watch it live and not watch it\ndie. When you start out to study the habits of a wild animal the place\nfor your gun, if you have one, is in the rack at home.\n\nFor one thing, if you undertake to watch a man through a transom with a\ngun in your hand and murder in your mind, the chances are a hundred to\none that he\u2019ll feel something queer \u201cin the air.\u201d The thing has not been\nexplained yet, but we can feel a scowl behind our backs much more\nreadily than a smile. And in the woods the animals soon distinguish\nbetween a desire to kill and a desire to look on. I have tried both and\nI know.\n\nAll animals are quick to understand when we are afraid of them; and many\nof them seem to enjoy taking advantage of the fact. We can see this in\ncows and in dogs and even in turkey gobblers. And we would see it often\nin the woods, too, if we were not so much given to either running or\nshooting before we had time to see it. The Black Bear makes the most of\nhis ability to inspire terror. He trades on it. He makes capital out of\nit. And he has come to be one of the most accomplished bluffers on\nearth.\n\nIn the summer of 1908 I spent some weeks in the mountains of the\nYellowstone National Park getting a series of flash-light pictures of\ngrizzly bears, and early in my stay I was joined by Mr. J. B. Kerfoot,\nof New York, who, although he had had no experience with bears, had done\na good deal of amateur photography and was anxious to help me with the\nwork in hand. The day after we reached camp we went out to look over the\nground where we proposed to work that night, and on our way back we ran\nacross an old Black Bear with two cubs and determined to take her\npicture. As soon as she saw us she ordered her cubs up a tree but, by a\nquick movement, I managed to get to them in time to intercept the second\ncub before it had a chance to obey. It then rejoined its mother and I\nplaced myself between them and the treed cub and thus had things just as\nI wanted them, knowing that the old bear would not go far away and leave\nher youngster (who was bawling lustily from the branches) to its\npossible fate.\n\nBut when I called Kerfoot, who had the camera, to come forward and get\nsome pictures, he was rather shy about it. He explained that he had come\nout to photograph bears, and that if this one had been by herself, he\nwould not have minded her; but that he had always understood that an old\nbear with cubs was about the most dangerous thing on four legs, and that\nto interpose himself between her and her bawling offspring looked to him\na good deal like suicide. I finally persuaded him that there was no\ndanger, however, and he moved up to within fifty feet or so of the old\nbear. But he had no more than taken a step or two when she turned toward\nhim with a coughing snarl that made him think his last hour had come. I\ncould not help laughing at the old bluffer, for she had never so much as\nshown me a tooth, but had rather assumed toward me what you might call a\n\u201cput upon\u201d expression\u2014whining and walking nervously back and forth and\nshowing quite plainly that she thought herself badly used by a superior\nforce. But Kerfoot was hard to convince in regard to her bluffing\nqualities, and while we were all maneuvering for a suitable position the\ncub came down from the tree, joined its mother and the other cub, and\nall three made off into the woods.\n\nWe followed helter-skelter, and as the cubs could not run very fast we\nfinally succeeded in treeing one of them again and resumed operations.\nThis time I picked up a club and by brandishing it valiantly every time\nthe bear snarled at Kerfoot, managed to reassure him sufficiently to\ncoax him up within about thirty feet of her. He had a Graflex\nnatural-history camera that took a 4 \u00d7 5 plate, but had sufficient\nbellows to accommodate a twenty-inch lens, thus giving a very large\nimage at a comparatively considerable distance from the object. In these\ncameras an inclined mirror, that flies out of the way at the moment of\nexposure, enables one to see the full-sized picture on the ground glass,\nand to focus on a moving subject up to the second of pressing the\nbutton. And when Kerfoot had looked at the picture at a distance of\nthirty feet he said that he thought he could get a fine head by going a\nbit closer yet, and moved ten feet nearer. He had just gotten things to\nhis liking and was standing with the long camera held at the level of\nhis eye and his head bent over the focussing hood when the bear gave a\nvicious snort, and executed the peculiar combination of broken coughs\nand gnashing teeth that is the trump card in the Black Bear\u2019s game of\nbluff; and the photographer literally went straight up into the air. Of\ncourse the whole effect was reproduced on the ground glass within two\ninches of his eyes and he said afterward that he had thought his nose\nwas scratched. But the sight was too much for me. I threw away my club,\nand throwing myself on the ground roared with laughter, and as soon as\nhe understood what had happened, Kerfoot put the camera down and joined\nme.\n\nAnd when we had laughed ourselves almost into tears we found the old\nbear sitting on her haunches and looking at us as serious as an owl.\nThat ended her bluffing and we got several pictures of her, one of\nwhich, taken just before we left her, is reproduced here. By that time\nthe poor old soul had so worried herself over the other cub that she was\nliterally drenched in sweat, and she finally sat down and began to swing\nher head dejectedly from side to side, uttering a sort of moan at each\nswing, for all the world like a mourner at a wake, while the cub that\nwas with her sat back and looked on. It was at this moment that the\npicture was taken, and when we had secured it we were so sorry for her\nthat we packed up and left her alone.\n\nThis experience gave Mr. Kerfoot a pretty good insight into the real\nmeaning of Black Bear ferocity, and later on we had many amusing\nexperiences with the beasts. To show, however, that some people have\neyes but do not use them, I will give another little adventure that we\nhad toward the end of our stay in the mountain. We had with us as camp\nkeeper a man who has lived most of his life in the Rockies, has hunted\nbears all over that part of the country, and ought to have been pretty\nwell acquainted with the real nature of them. I do not believe that with\na gun in his hand he would be afraid of anything that walks, but he had\nevidently never investigated very closely into what would happen to him\nwhen he had left his gun at home. We had stopped over night at a public\ncamp at a place called Tower Falls, and after supper in the evening\nKerfoot and I, having seen a Black Bear at the edge of a clearing,\nwalked over to look at her. She was a large animal and lay on the ground\nnear the foot of a big pine tree, and a single cub sat on one of the\nlow-hanging branches above her head. We were talking about our plans for\nthe morrow and walked toward the bear without thinking much about her\none way or the other. When we got within fifty feet or so of her she\nbacked up against the tree, and as we continued to advance without\nnoticing her especially, she first stood up with her feet against the\ntrunk and then climbed up ten or fifteen feet from the ground, driving\nher cub ahead of her. We walked up to the foot of the tree and looked at\nher for a few minutes, and though she stuck her upper lip out at us in\nthe peculiar fashion of her kind, she made no other demonstration, and\nafter we had stood there and talked for a little while, we turned back\ntoward camp.\n\nAbout half-way back we met our man Frank coming down to see the bear,\nand just behind him came a party of eight or ten people who had stopped\nfor the night at the camp. We paid no attention to this crowd until,\nhearing a noise behind us, we turned around and found the whole lot\nrunning back up the hill very much frightened, and as Frank was bringing\nup the rear we asked him, rather jokingly, what was the matter. \u201cGee,\u201d\nhe answered, \u201cI tell you, that\u2019s a fierce old bear.\u201d And we have not\nfinished teasing him about it yet. That old bear certainly knew whom to\nbluff, and I have no doubt that the majority of the schoolteachers in\nthe crowd thought themselves lucky to have escaped with their heads.\n\nI do not mean to say that a Black Bear will not fight if it is forced\nto. But, personally, I have never seen one\u2019s patience tried to the\nbreaking point. If you chase one too closely it will take to a tree. If\nyou follow it up the trunk, it will retreat toward the top. I imagine\nthat if you kept on following it until it could go no farther you would\nend up by getting a pretty bad mauling, for it has sharp claws and\ntremendous muscles to back them up with; but it is perfectly safe to say\nthat if you were at the top of the tree and it was half-way down, you\nwould have a hard time getting at close enough quarters with it to get\nhurt.\n\n\n[Illustration: A black bear at home]\n\n\nThese conclusions, like all the others scattered through the pages of\nthis book, are founded upon many observations made during many years,\nnot upon any single experience or upon the actions of any one animal;\nand I want to lay especial emphasis upon the fact that when I give, as\nan illustration, the account of any particular happening, it is only\ncited as an example of the things that, taken together, have gone to the\nforming of my belief. For instance, in the summer of 1906 I was camped\nhigh up on the continental divide in the mountains of Wyoming with two\nboys, Tommy and Bill Richards. One day when we were out in the hills we\nsaw a Black Bear go into a thick tangle of underbrush surrounding a big\npine tree and lying at the foot of a perpendicular cliff; and we\ndetermined for the fun of the thing to drive it out so as to get a good\nlook at it. I accordingly made my way to the extreme right of the\nthicket, Bill stationed himself in front, and Tommy stayed where we were\nwhen we first saw the bear. Then at a given signal we all rushed in with\nloud yells. But instead of trying to escape, the bear went up the pine\ntree and lodged thirty feet or so from the ground in a clump of foliage.\nOne of the boys had a camera and now wanted to get the bear\u2019s picture,\nso I suggested that he could do this by driving the bear further up the\ntree, and as Tommy said he was not afraid of the animal I cut him a long\npole and he climbed up to where he could reach up and poke the bear with\nit. He punched it in the belly and the bear was furious, slashed at the\nstick, gnashed its teeth, and made a most terrifying fuss, but refused\nto move. Tommy, however, kept on poking and in a few minutes the bear\ngot over its anger, appeared to grow interested in the game, and before\nthey got through, it was actually _playing_. Tommy took to tickling its\nfeet, and it would raise first one and then the other and try to catch\nthe pole with its teeth and claws, all in a high good humor. Tommy\nfinally dislodged him by climbing higher yet and fairly threshing the\nbranches with his pole, and they got an excellent photograph that they\nsubsequently published in the _St. Nicholas_ magazine.\n\nThe Black Bear is very fond of water, and seldom stays for any length of\ntime where it cannot get its daily bath. The grizzly also bathes,\nespecially in hot weather or to rid itself of vermin, but the Black Bear\nloves water for its own sake. They have regular bathing holes and after\ntaking a swim either stretch themselves out on a grassy bed near by, or\nclimb up into a convenient tree, where the sun and wind soon dries them\noff. We found one such bear\u2019s bath tub in a beautifully situated glade\namong the mountains and spent a good deal of time concealed in some\nnearby shrubbery, hoping to get a picture of Ursus emerging from the\nbath. During one of these waits a small Black Bear sauntered up to the\nedge of the pool, looked carefully around as though to make sure he was\nalone, and then slipped into the water and swam twice the length of the\nplunge. Just as he was crawling out on to the bank again, Kerfoot\nsnapped his camera at him and, frightened by the sound, the bear took to\nhis heels and climbed up a near-by tree. He settled himself about forty\nfeet from the ground in the sunlight, and having apparently made up his\nmind that he had been scared over nothing settled down for a comfortable\nsnooze. We now made up our minds that we would like a second picture to\ncomplete our record of the performance, and walked over to the bottom of\nthe tree where the bear was ensconced, but, as is usually the case with\nthese black animals, we found that the position in which he sat did not\nlend itself to a picture, so we sat down under the tree determined to\nwait till he changed his position. Nothing happened for fifteen or\ntwenty minutes, when, quite unexpectedly, the bear made up his mind that\nhe was not going to be held prisoner any longer, and with a great\npuffing and snorting, started stern first down the tree. Kerfoot, who by\nthis time had gotten over his initial ideas about Black Bear, picked up\na stick and hammered on the trunk to scare him back again. But this was\none of the bears who, when he bluffed, bluffed to the limit, and,\ninstead of retreating, he redoubled his growls and snarls and continued\nto come steadily down the tree. By this time I was becoming interested\nand was making bets with myself as to which of the two bluffers (for I\nknew that they were both bluffing) would eventually take the trick.\nKerfoot finally settled the matter by actually hitting the bear a whack\nover the rump with his club, and the latter scurried back up the tree,\ntwice as fast as he had come down.\n\nOne of the most characteristic features of the Black Bear\u2019s game of\nbluff is its utter failure to show any concern when the bluff is called.\nA dog, for instance, when he indulges in a bluff that fails to work,\nvery frequently shows plainly that he feels himself a fool. He\u2019ll rush\nout with every evidence of intending to attack; growling, snarling, and\ncoming headlong toward you; and when (if you know dogs and are not\nimpressed by his fine acting) he gets quite up to you without\nfrightening you, he will cringe, lick your boots, sometimes roll over\nand put all four feet up\u2014which is the dog sign of complete discomfiture\nor complete surrender. Of course it is not possible for us to really\nknow how any animal\u2019s mind works. We are almost certain to credit them\nwith some of our own psychology in trying to follow theirs. And so I do\nnot mean to imply that a dog under these circumstances \u201cthinks he is a\nfool.\u201d But we know that he acts very much as we would feel if we thought\nwe had been shown up. The nearest that we can come to interpreting his\nactions is to say that they seem to mean, \u201cI did not know that it was\n_you_, or I never would have tried to frighten you.\u201d\n\nBut a Black Bear does not, as the boys say, give a continental whether\nhis bluff works or not. If he scares you, well and good. He\u2019s gained his\npoint. If he doesn\u2019t scare you, well and good again. Nothing has been\nlost by the attempt. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred he\u2019ll sit and\nlook at you exactly as though nothing had happened, and the inference\nis, \u201cWell, _I\u2019ve_ made _my_ suggestion. Now it\u2019s _your_ move.\u201d It was\nthoroughly typical of the animal that the old bear that so scared\nKerfoot when he was focussing his camera upon her should have simply sat\ndown on her haunches and stared open-eyed at us when we rolled on the\nground in laughter.\n\nNor is this kind of bluff and this attitude toward failure to make\ngood on the part of the Black Bear, confined to intercourse with\nstrangers. I have seen one of them go through exactly similar actions\nwith another bear. One of the most amusing little incidents I ever\nwatched\u2014because it so laughably illustrated the happy-go-lucky,\nanything-to-keep-one\u2019s-self-amused attitude of these beasts\u2014will serve\nas an example. I had been watching a Black Bear that was feeding in\nignorance of my presence, and after some time it had sat down at the\nfoot of a small pine tree on a side hill and was leaning lazily\nagainst the trunk, turning its head now and then as though watching\nfor something to turn up. It was a pretty good-sized bear\u2014three\nhundred pounds or so perhaps\u2014and when another animal of about its own\nsize appeared some distance along the side hill and, somewhat to my\nsurprise, began to walk threateningly toward it, I became very much\ninterested. The first bear, however, did not seem to share my\ninterest. He paid, or pretended to pay, no attention whatever to the\nnewcomer. And the latter, very deliberate but very determined, came\nstraight toward him. When he arrived at the other side of the small\ntree (it was not more than six inches thick) he half drew back on his\nhaunches, half raised his fore-quarters from the ground, lifted one\npaw as if to strike, and uttered the coughing snarl ending in a rapid\nchamping of the jaws that is the Black Bear\u2019s ultimate expression of\nwrath. I thought that I was going to have a reserved seat at a prize\nfight. But my original bear continued to lean against his tree and\nlook about lazily as though waiting for something interesting to turn\nup. He did not seem to so much as suspect that there was another bear\nin that neck of the woods. And the challenger turned round and walked\naway as deliberate, as dignified, and as unconcerned as though nothing\nwhatever had happened.\n\nThe actions of these two bears, moreover, illustrate another\ncharacteristic of the tribe. You never watch Black Bear when they are\nquite at home and undisturbed without being made to feel that they are\nhard put to it to know what to do with themselves. A grizzly \u201cknows his\nbusiness\u201d in every sense of the expression. When he starts out, he knows\nwhere he is going and goes there. When he starts a job, he finishes it\nand goes on to the next. I have followed one along and over the high\nridges of the Rockies for two days on end when the light snow of early\nfall showed every step he took. I have tracked one from ground-squirrel\nburrow to marmot hole; seen where two hours of incredibly laborious\ndigging had yielded him a mouthful of breakfast; followed his careful\nsearch for more provender, to be got by more digging, and seen where,\nthe possibilities of that particular ridge having been exhausted, he had\nstarted on a predetermined journey across country for another feeding\nground. The grizzly is _working for his living_ and knows it.\n\nBut Black Bear act for all the world like boys on a rainy Saturday.\nThey\u2019ve got nothing but time, and the one problem in life is how to kill\nit. Watch one for a couple of hours and you\u2019ll see him start forty\ndifferent things, finish none of them, and then sit down and swing his\nhead hopelessly from side to side as though to say, \u201cNow _what_ shall I\ndo next?\u201d\n\nIf you have only seen these animals in captivity you are apt to think\nthat their air of restless boredom is due to their confinement; that\nthey don\u2019t know what to do with themselves because they are unable, in a\nbear pit, to follow their natural vocations. I am always sorry for wild\nanimals in captivity, but I am, I think, less sorry for the Black Bear\nthan for most others. For they act just about as bored to death in the\nwoods as they do in the Zoo. I have seen one come along, rip a piece off\nan old stump, sniff for bugs, find none, stand undecided for a few\nminutes, and then walk up to a tree and draw itself upright against the\ntrunk, stretching like a cat. It then sat down at the foot of the tree\nand scratched its ear. It then got up and started off aimlessly, but,\nhappening to straddle a low bush in its path and liking the feeling of\nthe branches against its belly, it walked backward and forward half a\ndozen times to repeat the sensation. Then it started back the way it had\ncome and smelling a mouse under a log, suddenly woke up and became all\nattention. It tried to move the log and failed. It dug a bit at one end\nbut gave that up. It then tried again, very hard this time, to turn the\nlog over, and the log giving away suddenly, the bear turned a complete\nsomersault backward, but instantly recovered itself and rushed around\nwith the most ludicrous haste to see if the mouse had gotten away. It\nhadn\u2019t. It hadn\u2019t had time. Which may give you a faint notion of how\nquick that clumsy-looking bear was when he really got awake. After he\nhad eaten the mouse he was up against it again. He didn\u2019t know what to\ndo next. There was a fallen tree near by and he got up on the trunk and\nwalked the length of it. Then he turned around (quite hard to do without\ntouching the ground, but he was very careful) and walked back again to\nthe butt. Here he stood and looked straight ahead of him\u2014stood at gaze,\nas the old romancers used to say. Then (the log was perhaps eighteen\ninches high) he climbed down backward very slowly and carefully as if he\nwere afraid of falling, and walked around to examine a place where the\nupturned roots had left a hole in the earth. Finally he sat down and\nbegan \u201cweaving.\u201d That is to say, he began swinging his head from side to\nside, making a figure \u221e with his nose, as one often sees them do behind\nthe bars of the Zoo. There is nothing in the world more expressive of\nhopeless ennui.\n\nBut although one is constantly tempted to call the Black Bear names; to\nrefer to him as an idle, pottering, purposeless, \u201cfootless,\u201d lazy,\nloafing tramp; he can upon occasion be the most persistent thing on four\nfeet (always excepting a porcupine), and the fact that he has no\nbusiness of his own to attend to by no means deters him from poking his\nsharp nose into any and everything that doesn\u2019t concern him. There never\nwas a more convincing example of the fact that idle hands (and paws) are\nsupplied by Satan with mischievous occupation. He is chock-full of\ninquisitiveness and eaten up with curiosity. And if you imagine that\nbecause he\u2019s clumsy he can\u2019t be quick, or that because he acts foolish\nhe is anybody\u2019s fool, you will be very far out of the right reckoning.\n\nOne Black Bear in one-half hour can do more to make an unguarded camp\nlook like a hurrah\u2019s nest than any other known agency; and I have had\none come back half a dozen times from half a dozen different directions,\nto try to get at my camera to paw it over and find out what it was. One\nday when I was photographing grizzlies I buried the tin case that held\nmy electric battery while I went back to camp for something. I did this\nbecause I knew that there were Black Bear in the neighborhood, and I\nhoped by this trick to keep them from tampering with my effects. But\nwhen I got back a Black Bear had been there, had dug up the case, pulled\nthe cover off, chewed the tin all out of shape, and had bitten holes in\neach of the dry batteries. Another time I found one sitting under a\ncanvas shoulder bag that I had hung on the branch of a tree, hitting it\nfirst with one paw and then with another as it swung. He made so comical\na picture that I watched him for a while, but when he reached out his\nsnout and grasped the bag with his teeth I hurriedly drove him away, for\nthe bag had some wooden cylinders of flash powder in it.\n\nOn the trip when Mr. Kerfoot and I were working together we frequently\nbuilt ourselves seats in convenient trees from which to watch for\ngrizzlies, and operated the electric mechanisms of our cameras by\nstrings stretched from the apparatus to our crannies among the branches.\nOn one occasion, when we determined to work a second night from the same\nlocation, we left these strings in position so as to save ourselves the\nconsiderable trouble of running them a second time. But the next night\nwhen we came to set up our cameras we could not find the ends of the\nstrings. There had been two of them running to widely separated points,\neach one hundred feet or so distant from our look-out. And we could find\nneither of them. Finally, I climbed to the seat in the tree to see if I\ncould find the other ends of the string, and discovered that a Black\nBear during our absence had been trying our seat, and had pulled both\nstrings in and left them hopelessly snarled up among the branches. He\nhad, I suppose, found our scent on the tree, followed it up to\ninvestigate, found the seat (a piece of board nailed across two limbs),\nand having his curiosity aroused by the strings, had pulled them in to\nsee what was at the other end.\n\nThere was a fairly well-trodden bear trail that led under this same\ntree, and that night, after we had got things shipshape again, we had\nanother amusing object lesson in the ways of the Black Bear. We had\nlittle more than got settled for our long wait for dusk and the coming\nof the grizzlies, when we saw a lean old Black Bear with one cub coming\ndown the trail toward our tree. When they got within thirty feet or so\nof us the mother stopped, evidently seeing us. But the cub kept on.\nWhereupon the mother called it back and it sat down beside her. Then\nbegan one of the most farcical exhibitions I ever saw. This old bear\n(Kerfoot declared her to be an old maid that had married late in life)\nwas evidently used to going down that particular trail and wasn\u2019t going\nto change her habits on account of any interlopers. But at the same time\nshe was afraid to pass the tree with us in it. She would come on a few\nsteps and then back off again. Then she would wander up and down in the\nmost undecided and worried way, grumbling and growling to herself.\nFinally she sat down and fairly cried\u2014moaning and whining like a spoiled\nchild. All the while the cub kept running ahead and then turning round\nto look back, as much as to say, \u201cCome on, it\u2019s all right. What\u2019s the\nmatter with you to-night?\u201d And, of course, all the time the whole Rocky\nMountains was open to her to go round by. Once she went back the way she\ncame and we thought we were rid of her. But she came back again and\nrecommenced the performance. Then I got down and drove her off.\n\nBlack Bear are found pretty generally in grizzly countries except in\nplaces where the grizzlies are very plenty, and now that they are all\nscarce they cover the same ranges almost everywhere. In the early\nnineties, in the Selkirks in British Columbia, I never saw a Black Bear.\nNow, however, although the grizzlies are still as plentiful there as\nanywhere, the Black Bear are numerous. But the Black fellows are mighty\ncareful never to get in the grizzlies\u2019 way. I have seen one stand up on\nhis hind legs behind the trunk of a good-sized tree and sidle round it,\npeeking out as he went to watch a grizzly bear go by; and I have already\ntold how the two Black Bear took to the trees when they heard a grizzly\ncoming. I know of nothing that better illustrates the keen senses of\nthese animals than the way in which they will detect the approach of a\ngrizzly long before a man\u2019s senses can make him aware of the fact. In\nthe Yellowstone National Park, where there are many animals of both\nspecies occupying the same ranges, I found that I could always get\nwarning of the approach of the grizzlies when their twilight feeding\ntime approached by the sudden and complete disappearance of the Black\nBear; and on several occasions, in different parts of the mountains,\nwhen the frequent flashes of our electric cameras had scared the\ngrizzlies away from that part of the wood, the Black Bear seemed,\nstrangely enough, to be aware of the fact and made no attempt to retire\nat their usual hour. This was so interesting an exhibition of keen\nsenses or quick intuition that I watched very carefully during the whole\nperiod of my stay to try to satisfy myself as to the source of their\nknowledge. The fact that they began to be uneasy as the usual hour for\nthe grizzlies\u2019 arrival came near, sometimes led me to think that they\nmerely judged from past experience as to how long it was safe for them\nto stay out. But, on the other hand, I saw so many cases where a sudden\nsuspicion of unexpected danger led them to make themselves scarce, and\nthis, too, when the suspicion turned out to have been right, that I was\nforced to conclude that they either heard or smelled their enemies. But\nI could never find out which it was that they did. Several times I have\nseen them suddenly rush with snorts of apprehension to the nearest tree,\nand had their actions explained a few minutes later by the silent\nappearance of a huge grizzly.\n\nThe grandest wild animal of the United States is the grizzly bear. But\nthe most amusing, the most ludicrous, the most human and understandable\nof our wild animals, is our friend _Ursus americanus_ (Pallas). I have\ncalled him the Happy Hooligan of the woods, and I can think of no more\ndescriptive phrase for him. He is neither evil-intentioned nor\nbad-natured. Yet he has probably terrified more innocent wayfarers than\nany other denizen of our forests.\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                            THE GRIZZLY BEAR\n\n            The Narrative of a Hunter-Naturalist\u2014Historical,\n                       Scientific and Adventurous\n\n\n                                   BY\n\n                           WILLIAM H. WRIGHT\n\n            With 24 Full-Page Illustrations from Photographs\n                       $1.50 net; postpaid $1.65\n\n\u201cThis is the narrative of a hunter-naturalist, who deals with a single\nanimal as he has found it in the Western mountains. It is the best book\nthat has ever been written about any of the bears. One of the best books\nthat has ever been written from the popular standpoint about a single\nspecies of animal. It deserves far more extended notice than it can\nreceive here and will be read carefully and thoughtfully by naturalists\nand big game hunters who may learn much from it.\u201d\n\n                                                     \u2014Forest and Stream.\n\n\u201cFar more entertaining than a novel.\u201d\n\n                                                   \u2014William T. Hornaday.\n\n\u201cOne of the best books of adventure that has appeared in many\nmonths.\u201d\u2014San Francisco Chronicle.\n\n\u201cFull of the atmosphere of the big game woods and vibrant with hazards\nof the chase.\u201d\n\n                                                          \u2014Boston Globe.\n\n\u201cThe very spirit of the grizzly is in subtle fashion brought near us.\nThe book will long hold high place in the literature of sport.\u201d\n\n                                                      \u2014New York Tribune.\n\n\u201cWell illustrated with photographs of bears taken in the woods set off\nby the animals themselves.\u201d\n\n                                                      \u2014Spokesman Review.\n\n\u201cAn excellent work.... The book is fascinating in its descriptions and\nfurnishes another proof that if truth is not stranger than fiction, it\nis at least more interesting.\u201d\u2014The Independent.\n\n\u201cThe volume is most entertaining and wholesome. It is filled with the\natmosphere of the wide open outdoors and it ought to appeal to everybody\nwho has a drop of red blood in his veins.\u201d\n\n                                                        \u2014Brooklyn Times.\n\n\u201cAll the beauty and glory of life in the open permeate this book. It is\na book for live boys, for active men, for every Diana spirit chained to\ndomestic or professional task, for all Americans keen for adventure, and\nzestful for nature truths.... This is a genuine hunter-naturalist\u2019s\nnarrative. Its historical and scientific facts are savored with the\nspice of the camp-fire story-teller\u2019s style.\u201d\n\n                                            \u2014Philadelphia Public Ledger.\n\n\u201cThis book should grace the library of every true American.\u201d\n\n                                    \u2014Portland (Oregon) Evening Telegram.\n\n\n    ----------------------------------------------------------------\n\n                   Charles Scribner\u2019s Sons, New York\n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n \u25cf Transcriber\u2019s Notes:\n    \u25cb The numbering of the footprints of the brown and black bears was\n      illegible on pages 62 and 64. New numbers were typed for each\n      illustration.\n    \u25cb Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.\n    \u25cb Typographical errors were silently corrected.\n    \u25cb Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only\n      when a predominant form was found in this book.\n    \u25cb Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).","title":"The Black Bear","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":33160}