Chapter V: Part 5

"This animal is the monarch of the country which he inhabitates. The
African lion or the Bengal tiger are not more terrible than he. He
is the enemy of man and literally thirsts for human blood. So far
from shunning, he seldom fails to attack and even to hunt him. The
Indians make war upon these ferocious monsters with ceremonies as
they do upon a tribe of their own species, and, in the recital of
their victories, the death of one of them gives the warrior greater
renown than the scalp of an enemy. He possesses an amazing strength,
and attacks without hesitation and tears to pieces the largest
buffalo."

The first paragraph which Lewis and Clark wrote concerning the grizzly, April 29, 1805, says:

"We proceeded early, with a moderate wind. Captain Lewis, who was on
shore with one hunter, met about eight o'clock two white bears. Of
the strength and ferocity of this animal the Indians had given us
dreadful accounts; they never attack him but in parties of six or
eight persons, and even then are often defeated with a loss of one
or more of the party. Having no weapons but bows and arrows, and
the bad guns which the traders supply them, they are obliged to
approach very near the bear, and as no wound except through the head
or heart is fatal they frequently fall a sacrifice if they miss
their aim. He rather attacks than avoids man, and such is the terror
which he has inspired that the Indians who go in quest of him paint
themselves and perform all the superstitious rites customary when
they make war on a neighboring nation. Hitherto those we had seen
did not appear desirous of encountering us, but although to a
skillful rifleman the danger is very much diminished, yet the white
bear is still a terrible animal. On the approach of these two, both
Captain Lewis and the hunter fired and each wounded a bear; one of
them made his escape; the other turned upon Captain Lewis and
pursued him seventy or eighty yards, but being badly wounded he
could not run so fast as to prevent him reloading his piece, which
he again aimed at him, and a third shot from the hunter brought him
to the ground."

Below are two additional paragraphs from the Journal of Lewis and Clark. These show that the grizzly was most wide-awake and curious, and also that he was not accustomed to being afraid.

"The bear which gave so much trouble on the head of the Missouri are
equally fierce in this quarter. This morning one of them, which was
on a sand-bar as the boat passed, raised himself on his hind feet
and after looking at the party, plunged in and swam towards them. He
was received with three balls in the body; he then turned around and
made for the shore. Towards evening another entered the water to
swim across. Captain Clark ordered the boat towards the shore, and
just as the bear landed shot the animal in the head. It proved to be
the largest female they had ever seen, and so old that its tusks
were worn quite smooth."

"Just as he arrived near Willow Run, he approached a thicket of
brush in which was a white bear, which he did not discover till he
was within ten feet of him; his horse started, and wheeling suddenly
round, threw M'Neal almost immediately under the bear, who started
up instantly, and finding the bear raising himself on his hind feet
to attack him, struck him on the head with the butt end of his
musket; the blow was so violent that it broke the breech of the
musket and knocked the bear to the ground, and before he recovered,
M'Neal, seeing a willow tree close by, sprang up, and there
remained while the bear closely guarded the foot of the tree until
late in the afternoon. He then went off, and M'Neal being released
came down, and having found his horse, which had strayed off to the
distance of two miles, returned to camp. These animals are, indeed,
of a most extraordinary ferocity, and it is matter of wonder that in
all our encounters we have had the good fortune to escape."

The grizzly was introduced to the world by Governor DeWitt Clinton of New York, who appears to have taken his information from the Journal of Lewis and Clark. In the course of an address before the Literary and Philosophical Society of New York City in 1814, he completely misinterpreted the real character of the grizzly and popularized a number of errors that not only were believed then but have survived to this day. The real grizzly is a distinguished character; but the grizzly as commonly described by tongue and story--well, "there ain't no such animal."

Governor Clinton in discussing the work in store for the coming naturalists said, "There is the white, brown, or grizzly bear, the ferocious tyrant of the American woods--it exists, the terror of the savages, the tyrant of all other animals, devouring alike man and beast and defying the attacks of a whole tribe of Indians." Few people realize to what extent these inaccurate words have discouraged outdoor life and how enormously they have contributed to the output of fictitious nature writing.

The Indians had a profound respect for the fighting efficiency of the grizzly. When one of them killed a grizzly he triumphantly wore the claw as a medal for rare bravery. The grizzly has a head and a hide that the Indian could rarely penetrate with either an arrow or a spear. We may readily believe that the grizzly defied the attacks of "a whole tribe of Indians," as Governor DeWitt Clinton said. He would defy a whole tribe of Indians or a score of white men with similar weapons to-day. So, too, would the elephant, the African lion, or the tiger.

With the rifles used at the time of Lewis and Clark it was necessary for the hunter to approach close to the bear that the bullet might have sufficient velocity to penetrate a vital spot. The rifles being only single-shot, the hunter was exposed to the assault of the bear in case his aim missed or the shot was ineffective. It is not surprising that in most cases those attempting to kill the grizzly either were overpowered by him or succeeded only through force of numbers and with the loss of some of the assailants. But the ability of the grizzly to withstand such attacks and to defend himself has been confused with ferocity.

The grizzly is a fighting-machine of the first order and with the weapons of two or three generations ago he often sold his life most dearly. In a short time the grizzly had the reputation of being a terrible fighter, and along with this he was given the reputation of being ferocious--of being an awful hunter of man. For the grizzly to repel effectually those who went out to attack him is a very different thing from his going out to hunt and to attack people who were not molesting him. This latter he has never done.

The words of Umfreville, MacKenzie, Brackenridge, Clinton, and Lewis and Clark bring out strongly that the grizzly is a fighter, formidable, perhaps unequaled. Their opinion on this point is supported by ample first-hand testimony down through the years, from all over the grizzly territory. But it has not been established that the grizzly is ferocious, is seeking to kill. No, the grizzly does not look for a fight; he is for peace at almost any price.

The grizzly fights in self-defense; men do the same. A man is not criminal for fighting in self-defense; neither is a grizzly. For this self-defense fighting the grizzly should not be put in the criminal class. "The worm will turn," is an old saying. All animals fight in self-defense, some more quickly than others. Few ever succeed against man; the grizzly often does. Apparently the effective self-defense of the grizzly is responsible for his criminal reputation.

It is common for those who believe that the grizzly is ferocious to believe also that he eats human flesh. There is no known instance of his having done so.

We are now hearing that the Alaska bears are especially ferocious. Yet, in Alaska at the present time, and for many years in the past, the bear trails are concealed as much as possible by being in the woods. This would prevent the bear on the trail being readily seen by man. Along the sea, where much bear food is cast ashore, the trails are not upon the open beach but some distance away behind the trees. The bears depend on scent to tell them if there is anything along the shore to eat. Both their trails and their daily life in Alaska conclusively show that their chief concern is to keep away from and out of sight of man.

The experience with bears in the Yellowstone Park demonstrates that the grizzly is not ferocious. The Park had a numerous grizzly population when it was made a wild-life reservation. The people who in increasing numbers visited the Park carried no fire-arms and they were not molested by the grizzlies. Yet grizzlies were all about. After some twenty years of this friendly association of people and grizzlies, a number of grizzlies, dyspeptic and demoralized from eating garbage, and annoyed by the teasing of thoughtless people, became cross and lately even dangerous. But these bears cannot be called ferocious. Eliminate the garbage-piles and cease harassing the bears, and they will again be friendly.

The grizzly bear has been a golden gift of the gods for the countless writers of highly colored alleged natural history. There is a type, too, of wild fiction-writers of the Captain Mayne Reid class whose thrilling stories of the grizzly and other wilderness animals are purely fictitious, and, though not even pretending to be fact, appear to have been taken seriously by thousands. So prolific and continuous has been the output of these writers that facts have been lost, and it is practically impossible for the average individual to know the real grizzly bear. This comes near to being the immortality of error. It is a national misfortune that the overwhelming majority of people should be imposed upon with erroneous natural history. The destiny of the human race is intimately tied up with nature, and for any one to misunderstand the simple facts which unite us with nature is to be out of harmony with the whole scheme of things. An accurate knowledge of natural history has an important place in guiding the judgments of our race.

Because of their intimate knowledge of the grizzly bear, James Capen Adams, William H. Wright, and Philip Ashton Rollins admired this animal. It would be a glorious thing if every one appreciated the real character of the grizzly bear. A changed attitude toward him--the great animal of the outdoors--might cause the wilderness to appeal to all as a friendly wonderland.

Man's Loyal Companion

MISS GRIZZLY

Just as I reached the edge of the woods by a sawmill in the Medicine Bow Mountains, a young grizzly rushed at me as though to "chew me up." She frightened me for a second, but the next instant I realized that it was only a bluff.

"You are not polite to strangers," I said to her.

She stood still for a minute, looked at me quietly, and then began leaping and racing about me like an awkward puppy who has just made your acquaintance and is eager for play.

"Miss Grizzly" had been captured when a small cub, about a year and a half before, and raised by the foreman of the mill. The pet and favorite of all the men in camp, she had the freedom of the place, played with the visiting teamsters, and welcomed strangers. She was companionable with every one, but was nobody's grizzly.

Early in her life at the mill she had learned to be afraid of the big buzzing saw. One day as she stood several feet away, either listening to the hum of the saw or watching the dust thrown from it, the saw chanced to strike a knot. A piece of this flew and struck Miss Grizzly solidly between the eyes, raising a lump. She was exceedingly wary of the saw after that. Although she ranged around it, she never risked going too close again. Often she leaped upon a log as it was starting on the carrier for the saw, but she never failed to leap off before getting as near the saw as she had been when struck by the flying chip.

A logger from several miles away who had come to remain at the mill for some time brought with him his pet black bear. All the men were assembled in the bunk-house to see the meeting of the two bears. Miss Grizzly was in the room when the black bear came in. The instant the black bear caught sight of Miss Grizzly he was "scared out of his wits." He at once turned about and tried to run from the room. But haughty Miss Grizzly acted indifferently. Although she was much smaller than the black, there was no fear; she pretended that she had not seen him. Ignoring him, she went out of the room by the rear door and began playing with one of the dogs.

Miss Grizzly was ever independent, resourceful, and capable. One day a teamster handed her a bottle of catsup. Standing erect, she took it deftly in her fore paws. She was greatly interested in it--probably in the color. In turning it about she caught sight of a floating air-bubble. Inverting the bottle from end to end, she tried to make this out; she held it between her eyes and the light, she shook it back and forth close to her ear. Then, going directly to a near-by log, she brought the bottle down upon it and catsup splashed in all directions. Her curiosity satisfied, she seemed to enjoy licking up the catsup.

The men never teased Miss Grizzly nor attempted to teach her any tricks. Consequently her disposition was uniformly of the best. She enjoyed cartwheeling and liked to have the men start her with a little push down the slope near the mill. Curling her nose behind her toes, she rolled over and over. Occasionally she climbed upon the flat-roofed lumber-shed for the fun of rolling off. While she did much climbing over the logs and lumber-piles and on the low roofs, she did not attempt to climb a tree after the first few weeks she was at the mill.

She was never chained and she rambled about wherever she liked. She spent most of her time at the sawmill or close to it. Occasionally she followed one of the loggers off into the woods. Sometimes by the hour she would lie near where he was working, interested in the flying chips. Sometimes she would go off on a little hunting-excursion, tear an old stump to pieces, or overturn rocks in search of ants and grubs. One day a tree in falling sent a shower of limbs all about Miss Grizzly, one of them apparently striking her. She was not injured, but, bawling like a frightened baby, she turned and ran for camp, and never again did she go to the woods with the logger.

Miss Grizzly was usually fed just outside the cook-house door. She preferred to eat in seclusion. But when especially hungry she came boldly into the dining-room while the men were eating. Walking round the table, she accepted whatever was offered her--and every one offered her something.

She was fond of the teamster who arrived twice a week with supplies and usually followed him homeward, running along behind the wagon. Now and then she preferred to ride close to him with her nose on his shoulder, sitting on her haunches like a big dog. Usually she went only two or three miles and then returned promptly home, but occasionally she lingered. One day, during her third summer at the mill, she followed the teamster as usual but did not return until in the night. After this she made an occasional excursion into the woods alone, sometimes being gone a day or two. One day, after an unusually long absence, she came back accompanied by another young grizzly.

Tracks in the dust showed that the stranger had hesitated to approach the mill. Within two or three hundred yards of it he had reared up, alert, as though he had scented or heard something alarming. Here and there in the road Miss Grizzly had evidently turned back to reassure him. Both finally came within a short distance of the mill, when at the appearance of one of the men the strange bear turned and fled.

The first winter Miss Grizzly did not offer to hibernate. She was fed regularly, and the men never thought of encouraging her to den up. But the second winter she slept three months. About the first of December she dug a den back into the side of the big sawdust pile and crawled in. Two or three times during the winter the men wakened her, and she came to the mouth of the den and then returned to sleep. Once she came out for a few hours, but, though tempted, refused to eat. Ordinarily Miss Grizzly slept outside the sawmill, against one end of the building; but sometimes she spent the night beneath the edge of the slab-pile.

The third autumn at the mill Miss Grizzly made numerous excursions into the woods alone, and one day she went off on one from which she did not return.

BEN FRANKLIN

James Capen Adams, known as "Grizzly Adams," the celebrated hunter and trapper of wild American animals, was easily foremost for what he accomplished in showing the real character of the grizzly bear. His biography, "The Adventures of James Capen Adams," tells of his intelligent, sympathetic, and successful methods in handling grizzly bears, whether they were young or old. He made loyal companions of grizzlies and trained them so that they served him capably in a number of capacities. In the handling of these animals Adams studied their character. He was uniformly sympathetic, kind, calm, and firm. He endeavored to accomplish any desired end through gentleness and by appeal to the animal's interest and loyalty. Force and torture, which so often are the chief equipment of animal-trainers, had no place in his methods.

The story of Ben Franklin and his bringing-up by Adams gives an excellent view of a real grizzly and an excellent master. Adams took Ben Franklin from a den when he was a tiny blind cub. At first he was fed on a mixture of water, flour, and sugar, and then Adams persuaded a greyhound which was nursing a puppy, Rambler, to suckle Ben. Ben, while nursing, was made to wear buckskin mittens to prevent his scratching his foster-mother. Ben and Rambler became lifelong companions, and when not asleep spent most of their time playing and tussling with each other.

Sometimes, when traveling through the mountains with them when they were still small, Adams would take them out of the wagon and allow them to play together. They chased each other over the grass or had merry races after rabbits, squirrels, or prairie-dogs. When older, they enjoyed traveling all day together on foot. On a number of occasions it was necessary for Ben to wear buckskin moccasins to protect his feet from the sharp rocks and the desert sand, and once, after he was much larger, his feet became so sore he was loaded into the wagon and hauled for a day or two.

Ben quickly outstripped his foster-brother in size, but, although very swift of foot, he was soon outrun by the greyhound. Several times Ben and Rambler came upon the fleet-footed antelope, which Rambler closely pursued for miles. Ben would usually race for half a mile or so, then, being unable to keep up with Rambler, would sit down, look around for a minute, and return to his master. For several years they followed Adams in his long hunting-trips across the mountains.

Adams sometimes tempted Ben by placing within his reach scraps of dainty food, but he was so well trained that he never touched any food until it was given to him. Often, when hungry, Ben would sit on his haunches near his master, occasionally looking up into his face and remonstrating if he did not receive attention.

When Ben became larger, Adams trained him as a pack-animal, and Ben carried the camp outfit and supplies on his back through the wilderness. At other times he was used with Rambler in hunting, or when Adams was attacking a grizzly. Ben was once severely injured in a fight with a jaguar. He was not chained except when near a village, and then only for the safety of the excited dogs.

On one of his hunting-expeditions in the mountains of Oregon, Adams had what he considered one of the narrowest escapes of his life. He had with him as usual Rambler and Ben Franklin. While passing through a thicket Adams came unexpectedly upon a mother grizzly with cubs. The mother bear at once knocked him down and began to chew him up. Ben Franklin had not heretofore seen one of his kin.

"What will Ben do?" thought Adams, "help me or join his own kind and also attack me?"

There was neither doubt nor hesitation in Ben's mind. Though young and small, he went to the defense of his master against a grizzly five times his own size. So vigorously did Ben throw himself upon the big grizzly that she turned from Adams and vented her fury upon Ben. Though badly wounded, Adams was able with this opportunity to reach for his rifle and kill the grizzly.

Ben ran howling to camp. Adams, also frightfully injured, followed, and found Ben lying under the wagon licking his bleeding sides. So grateful was he to Ben for saving his life that he dressed the little bear's wounds before giving attention to his own, and remained in camp several days, giving Ben every possible attention and opportunity to recover. We can understand his saying of Ben Franklin: "The most excellent of all beasts, as faithful as it is possible for any animal to be; Ben Franklin, the king of the forest, the flower of his race, my firmest friend."

The following tribute to Ben Franklin appeared in the San Francisco "Evening Bulletin" of January 19, 1858:--

"DEATH OF A DISTINGUISHED NATIVE CALIFORNIAN

"Ben Franklin, the grizzly bear, the favorite of the Museum man,
Adams, the companion for the last three or four years of his various
expeditions in the mountains and his sojourns in the cities and
towns of California, departed from this mortal existence on Sunday
evening, at 10 o'clock. The noble brute, which was captured at the
head-waters of the Merced River in 1854, had been raised by his
master from a cub, and during his life manifested the most
indubitable indications of remarkable sagacity and affection. He was
ever tame and gentle, and although possessed of the size and
strength of a giant among brutes, was in disposition peaceful; rough
it is true, in his playfulness, but always well disposed. He
frequently carried his master's pack, provisions and weapons;
frequently shared his blanket and fed from the same loaf.

"One of his eyes was observed to be injured and several scars were
to be seen about his head and neck; but they were honorable wounds
and reflected as much credit upon poor Ben as the scars of a brave
soldier. They were all received in the service of his human friend,
protector and master. As might be supposed his loss has been
severely felt by Adams."

MISS JIM AND MR. BESSIE

During many years in the West, Mr. Philip A. Rollins was an accurate and sympathetic observer of the grizzly bear. He knew him in various localities, and saw him under countless conditions. He hunted him with a gun and then without a gun. He raised grizzlies, kindly and intelligently. He is one of the highest authorities on the grizzly. He kindly wrote for me the following from his personal experience:--

"To one who knows and loves bears, Enos A. Mills, from one who
loves them, Philip A. Rollins.

"One summer day, now almost thirty years ago, a cowboy, hunting from
our Wyoming ranch, killed a female grizzly bear. Her two attendant
cubs were brought to the ranch by the cowboy, an operation which
decreased the value of his clothing, and lessened the quantity of
his skin. The names of Jim and Bessie, hastily bestowed as the
party, in part hauling and swearing, and in part twisting and
growling, made its arrival, were, for the sake of accuracy, later
changed to Miss Jim and Mr. Bessie.

"The youngsters were presently introduced to their sleeping quarters
in the 'bear parlor,' an enclosure connecting with the main room of
the ranch house by a doorway usually closed only with several
curtains of heavy felt. Five black bears had their abode in the
'bear parlor' when the little grizzlies registered their advent--a
registration effected by clawing and biting everybody and everything
within reach. After a few days marked by pandemonium and the
enticements of very frequent meals, Miss Jim and Mr. Bessie were
the dictators of all the black bears and the friends of all the men;
of all the men, save one,--he could not refrain from teasing. Months
passed; the little grizzlies increased in strength. The teasing
continued. One day a visiting surgeon set three ribs and an arm.

"Except for this research into human anatomy, nothing untoward
happened until the end of four years. Meanwhile the two grizzlies
had, at all times, come and gone at will into and out of the ranch
house; had, whenever they desired, tidbits supplemental to their
food; attended the ranch meals, perched in orderly fashion on a
bench at the foot of the dining-table; and, after the first six
months, made any excursion they wished, being absent from the ranch
sometimes for several successive days, going thus either alone or as
the companions of whatever man might have occasion to travel across
country. These trips not infrequently made them adjuncts of a
fishing-party, and on such occasions they were always content with
their toll of the first four fish caught--two fish for each bear.

"No attempt was ever made to exact from the bears the performance of
tricks. They were treated from the outset in the same manner as one
would treat a well-trained hunting hound, save that special care was
taken that they should be fed before approaching either the men's
dining-table in the ranch house or the lunching group of a
fishing-party. On their bench at the foot of the dining-table, they
never were indecorous, never snatched at any food, but would sit in
dignified silence until called by name. Upon the sound of its name,
the invited bear would lumber down to the floor, shuffle along to
the chair of the inviter, and, having been given and somewhat gently
received, the promised confection, would promptly return to its
seat. It is true that the returning bear would not infrequently in
passing, give playful, if vigorous, pokes into the bodies of its
fellows, but none of the blows were aimed at or reached a human
being.

"The grizzlies were true companions, for they had all the
affectionate faithfulness of the best of dogs, intelligence far
beyond that of any horse, and endless sense of humor. As to
intelligence, they repeatedly used their brains in a manner which
perhaps is best exemplified by the following instance of another
grizzly which I watched years ago: An animal which, discovering a
half-filled food-can, and prevented by the semi-closed lid from
touching the contents, takes a stone between its paws and smashes
the lid, has claim to brains, even if that animal be only a bear.

"I have said that nothing untoward happened during the four years.
On second thought, an untoward event did occur. One November, a
quantity of freshly preserved blueberries had been obtained from the
East. These berries were transformed into twenty-four large
deep-dish pies, one for each man on the ranch. On the date of the
anticipated feast, an entertainment at a neighboring camp
depopulated the house, but did not degrizzly its environs. In the
early evening of that day, the house was approached by a file of
men, pie-bent, expectant, joyous. Two house logs pulled from without
doors, bear-tracks done upon the snow in vivid blue, forewarned that
twenty-four pies had passed into history.

"At the end of the four years, Miss Jim fell victim to poison,
whether set for her or for wolves we never knew. Presently Mr.
Bessie was once more teased, this time by a visiting ranchman. After
the ranchman had been reassembled and revived, it was decided that
the bear must be done for. He should not be killed. That smacked of
murder. He should not be caged in a zoölogical garden. He had not
sinned according to bear law. Accordingly it was agreed that he
should be lost. He was led two hundred miles from the ranch and
bidden to go his way. His return to the ranch preceded that of his
keeper by eight hours. He was led to the mountains of Idaho, and the
duration of his return journey not improbably is still the minimum
record for that course. Finally two admirers conducted him to Oregon
and there parted with him forever. The last view disclosed a
cheerful expression as he contemplated two hams tied to a tree,
partly for purposes of strategy and partly as a parting gift."

* * * * *

A real acquaintance with the grizzly bear appears to fill every one with admiration for him. Mr. William H. Wright, quoted elsewhere in this book, understood the grizzly thoroughly. His comprehensive book, "The Grizzly Bear," is dedicated with these words:--

"WITH THE RESPECT, ADMIRATION AND AFFECTION
OF THE AUTHOR,
TO THE NOBLEST WILD ANIMAL OF NORTH AMERICA,
THE GRIZZLY BEAR."

New Environments

A rock fell from a high cliff and struck upon solid granite near a grizzly whom I was watching. There was a terrific crash and roar. Unmindful of the flying fragments and pieces bounding near, the grizzly reared up and pressed fore paws over his ears. Just as he was uncovering them the echo came thundering and booming back from a cliff across the lake. Again he hastily covered his ears with his paws to soften the ear-bursting crash.

On another occasion a wounded bear took refuge in a small thicket where the hunter was unable to get a shot at him. After failing to force the bear into the open, the hunter gave a wild, ear-splitting yell. With a growl of pain the bear at once chained furiously through the thicket toward the hunter.

A grizzly has supersensitive ears, and loud, harsh sounds give his nerves a harrowing shock. Through his higher development the grizzly probably suffers more intensely and enjoys more fully than other animals. The clashing city noises must be a never-ending irritation and torture to a bear who has been sentenced to end his days in a riotous environment. How he must yearn for the hush of the wilderness! And, as his sense of smell is also amazingly developed, perhaps he longs for a whiff of pine-spiced air and the wild, exquisite perfume of the violets.

Experience in many zoos has shown that subjecting caged grizzlies to close contact with people is usually cruelty to animals. Often they become cross, and a number of crowd-worried grizzlies have died prematurely from resultant apoplexy. Modern zoo bear-pens are constructed so that the bear is beyond the wiles of visitors--so that he can have much privacy--one of the needs of any grizzly. Perhaps we too often think of the bulky grizzly as being coarse and crude. But he is an animal of the highest type, sensitive, independent, and retiring. The normal bear is good-tempered and cheerful.

A grizzly placed in new environment in association with men will respond happily only to considerate handling and proper feeding. Tell me what a bear is fed and how, and I will tell you what the bear is--his disposition and health. A grizzly should be fed by no one except his keeper. If any one and every one feed a bear, he is likely to receive food that he ought not to eat and to have it given in a manner annoying to him. Feeding is the vital consideration for grizzly pets, for grizzlies in zoos, and for grizzlies in National Parks.

When I arrived in Colorado, in 1884, grizzlies were still common throughout the mountain areas of the State. They were numerous in a few rugged sections where there were but few people and plenty of food. In the Long's Peak region around my cabin, I early discovered the tracks of five grizzlies. One or two missing toes or some other peculiarity enabled me to determine the number. Two of these bears ranged near, and I had frequent glimpses of them.

During the autumn of one year, 1893 as I remember, I crossed the mountains between Trapper's Lake and Long's Peak. Snow covered most of the ground. During the eight days which this trip occupied I must have seen the tracks of between forty and forty-five grizzlies. I counted the tracks of eleven in one half-day. But grizzlies decreased in numbers rapidly. Numerous hunters came into the State annually. Stockmen and settlers hunted grizzlies for fun and for their hides, and professional hunters for revenue. Altogether, the grizzly had little chance for his life, and only a few survived.

In the settlement of the West many of the grizzlies had to go. Men came in with flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. The grizzlies' food was taken or driven off. Rarely did a grizzly kill any of the invading stock. Usually he worked harder for a living and took things philosophically. Many grizzlies were killed and a few sought homes elsewhere. But in the West there are still many wild regions, and in these there is room for the grizzly.

There is a wonderful unwritten story of the making of an empire--the Yellowstone--into a wildlife reservation. Big game had long been hunted in this region. The grizzly bear, since his discovery, had been relentlessly pursued; man with every conceivable contrivance was on his trail day and night; there was no quarter and no hope for peace. But suddenly firing ceased and pursuit stopped. This was epoch-marking. "What can it mean?" the grizzlies must have instantly asked. They must have asked it over and over again. But they quickly accepted it as a fact and as an advantage, and came forth to associate peacefully with man.

This has made a change worth while for man. Since shooting has stopped, thousands have seen the grizzly and enjoyed him where only one saw him before.

The grizzly is easily the most popular animal in the National Parks. He really is the greatest animal on the continent. The grizzly walks: there is a dignity, a lordliness of carriage, and an indifference to all the world that impress themselves on the attention. Some one speaks quietly to him: he halts, stands on hind legs, and shows a childlike eagerness of interest in his expressive face. His attitude and responsiveness are most companionable and never fail to awake the best in every one who sees him in these moments.

Some one told me the following amusing incident concerning a grizzly. In the southwest corner of Yellowstone Park a number of boys were bathing in a stream, when a young grizzly came along and for a moment stood watching their pranks. Then he slipped quietly behind some trees upon the bank of the stream. When the boys approached this spot, with a wild "Woof, woof," he leaped into the water among them. This caused great excitement and merriment, plainly just what he desired. As he swam hurriedly away, he looked back over his shoulder with satisfaction.

Another amusing incident also happened in the Yellowstone. As the stage arrived at the Cañon Hotel, one of the passengers, who had been having much to say concerning bears, put on his raincoat and got down on all fours, proceeding to impersonate a bear. While this demonstration was on a grizzly arrived. He made a rush at the man and chased him up a tree, amid laughter and excitement. The bear made no attempt to harm any one and plainly enjoyed this prank merely as a prank.

A grizzly mother in Yellowstone Park was catching trout for her cubs one June day of 1891, when a friend and I came along. We went near to watch them. Mother grizzly charged; we fled. After one leap she stood still and appeared to be almost grinning at us. We went back, she charged, and again we ran, although she stopped at the end of the first leap. But the third time she leaped at us we stood our ground. She growled but came no nearer. Although her threats did not appear to be in earnest, we did not risk going closer; nor would I have risked standing even at that distance if we had been outside of the Park boundary.

One day I saw a bear who appeared to be suffering from a headache. A short time before he had eaten an enormous quantity of garbage. This may have been his first dinner at a garbage-pile. Standing up, he felt of his head with first one fore paw and then the other. Then, lying down, he endeavored to hold his head in both fore paws. He had just thrust it into a stream and was trying to rub it with his paw when I last saw him. On another occasion I noticed a bear suffering from a toothache. He felt of his tooth, clawed at it, and in a number of other ways showed his annoyance.

In the Yellowstone the environment of grizzlies was radically changed when it became a wild-life reservation. The numerous bear-population quickly discovered that in the Park it would not be shot at. Grizzlies at once wandered about near people with no attempt to conceal themselves and with the best of manners; there was no annoying of people, no crossness, no ferocity. This ideal association of people and grizzly bears went on unmarred for years.

Numbers of bears from far outside Park boundaries came to spend two or three months of each summer there, returning to home territory during the autumn. Other grizzlies left their homes outside the Park and moved in to stay. Whether the summer migrant bears or the recent residents came to the Park because of the food, the safety, or both is difficult to say. Unusual opportunities were furnished Park visitors to study and observe the grizzly, with beneficial influence on themselves. But their worrying of the bears in time proved harmful.

The bears were thoughtlessly betrayed. Increasing numbers of visitors produced large garbage-piles. People came to the garbage-piles to watch the bears feed and often teased them. The bears became cross. Sometimes there were fights among the assembled bears over the smelly feasts. The charity of the garbage-pile led them into bad habits, upset their digestions, and ruined their dispositions. But their appetite for garbage increased until they became food pensioners and garbage drunkards. Like some humans they enjoy being pensioners and insist on being supplied. If there wasn't enough garbage they raided camps and hotels. If their raid was interrupted they resented it. In due time a few of the most dyspeptic bears became bold and defiant raiders.

The Park is visited by thousands for whom the bears should be a source of relaxation and furnish new interests and enjoyment. But the bears are becoming unhealthy and are a menace to people. Now and then some official tries to cure the bear trouble by having a number of bears roped, tied, and whipped. Occasionally a bear is shot. There are those who advocate that the guides and officials of the Park carry guns; and still others are advocating the extermination of the grizzly. We need the grizzly. Most cures proposed are worse than his trouble. But there is a prevention in simply no garbage-piles.

In the Glacier National Park, which has been a wild-life reservation only since 1910, the grizzlies have not yet become demoralized by garbage. The grizzly bear situation in the Yellowstone is a serious and even an alarming one, and what exists here is certain to develop in other Parks. The demoralizing factors are likely to be expanded and not diminished. Then, too, in the Yellowstone this continuous eating of garbage may ere long bring on a pestilence among the grizzlies, or possibly put a check on the number of cubs born. The whole situation appears to be embraced in what I have previously said about what a grizzly is fed and how.

The grizzly has not lost all his old instincts in the Park. Around the garbage-piles he is a lazy, cross pensioner. But away from them, and especially where he ranges outside of the Park, the same bear is as alert and as energetic as ever in getting a living and watching out for his safety. They are tame near garbage-piles but a short distance away are wild. They are comparatively easy to trap near the garbage-piles, where they will enter a trap-door; but the same bear outside the Park is extremely wary and avoids going near a trap. Says William H. Wright, in "The Grizzly Bear":--

"Altogether I did not find the grizzlies of Yellowstone Park in any
degree more tame or less cunning than they are to-day, for example,
in the Selkirks. Many of them, it is true, come to the garbage-piles
to feed, but these very bears, fifty yards back in the timber, are
again as wild as any of them anywhere. At the cañon, the
garbage-pile is in a hollow at the foot of rather a steep incline
that leads up to the edge of the woods. Bear after bear, coming down
the trails that converge toward this point, will stop as he reaches
the brink of this declivity, glance downward, turn his head from
side to side, and launch himself down hill, with the same air of
committing himself to a foreign element that one sees in the upward
glance and deep breath of a man launching himself from a diving
board. On their return, they invariably halted for a few seconds at
the top of the hill, looked around, occasionally shook themselves,
and with their first step up the familiar trail, resumed every sign
of their habitual caution and alertness. While on the garbage-pile
itself, they appear to pay scant attention to the people gathered
behind the fairly distant wire fence, but even there, an eye
familiar with their actions would note the constant watch they kept
on what was going on and the hurried way in which they fed; and,
fifty feet from the edge of the surrounding timber, they would at
the least scent or sound or sight, bolt as incontinently as in the
farthest hills. Grizzlies are no more plentiful around the Park
to-day than they were twenty-five years ago in the Bitter Roots, and
a hundred yards from the garbage-pile they are no different."

Apparently young bears do not inherit fear of a trap, for they are easily trapped. Young bears in captivity sometimes exhibit inherited instincts; they may be pleasurably excited with the scent of food never before seen; and they will sometimes dig down for a hidden root of a kind that their parents ate but which they themselves had never seen. In these cases of digging, they either dug at the right place from scent, or from inherited memory of place. There was nothing on the surface to indicate the presence of buried roots beneath.

The young of most animals, wild or tame, make interesting pets. But of all the pets I have known, none equal grizzly cubs for energy, alertness, and individuality. They take naturally to new, unnatural environments. A grizzly cub learns speedily and from the first tries to know everything around him. So all-knowing are his senses and his instincts that the approach of anything new at once attracts him; he stops play and with rare curiosity and concentration tries to understand it. If he solve the mystery he promptly continues play at the point where he left it.

"Baby Sylvester" is a celebrated bear story by Bret Harte that characteristically and humorously describes a bear in new environments. This little bear lost none of his native energy, alertness, and versatility under changed and unexacting conditions. The way he handled every situation was a constant surprise and delight.

Pet cubs, if gently treated, quickly accept and make the best of new environment; they become intimate and loving, in fact most intensely so. If handled kindly, the cub is willing to do everything reasonable, everything he understands one wants done. But whip or scold him, and he at once becomes stubborn and unwilling, reserved and cross. The grizzly is an animal of high type and to have him develop his best he needs fine, high consideration.

The grizzly's real character stands out when he is associated with man. He is ever true to himself. A dog will lick the hand of a cruel master or fawn on a most unworthy one. Not so the grizzly; he will not go down in the dust. Only a uniformly just man can win his loyalty or retain his friendship; he has individuality and self-respect and will not willingly serve a tyrant or even bow to him. The wearing of a hat, the holding of a pipe, the sitting up in a silly attitude, tricks which many dogs do to please a master, the grizzly will do only under compulsion. The grizzly is ever faithful and loyal to a worthy master; he will do unto you as you do unto him. Elsewhere in this book I give a number of stories which show the high character and the great possibilities of the grizzly as a companion of man if handled intelligently.

In eastern Washington, "Grizzly" Adams captured a yearling grizzly which he named Lady Washington. With her he used but little discipline, and he at all times treated her with consideration and kindness. She was constantly with him on long journeys across the mountains from State to State, in camp and on hunts. Of her Adams says:--

"She has always been with me; and often shared my dangers and
privations, borne my burdens, and partaken of my meals. The reader
may be surprised to hear of a grizzly companion and friend, but Lady
Washington has been both to me. He may hardly credit the accounts of
my nestling up between her and the fire to keep both sides warm
under the frosty skies of the mountains, but all this is true."

The ability to comprehend a new situation or incident and readjust one's self to it is the act of an open and a thinking mind. The food, religion, politics, and personal habits of an individual are changed slowly and with difficulty. Progress is constantly being held back by old customs--the inability of the race to form new habits meeting new conditions. Many species of extinct animals have perished because of over-specialization. "Leave your prejudice at home" was the best advice I received just prior to a trip to Europe. Prejudice and its allied mental conditions are binding and delaying. The grizzly does not allow old prejudice to prevent his exploring for new information, and he is ever ready for something new in his environment.

In a generation or two the grizzly has become expert in eluding the pursuer; he rivals the fox in concealing his trail, in confounding the trailer and escaping with his life. That he has developed this trait since coming in contact with the white man and the repeating rifle--out of necessity--there can be no doubt. Formerly, the rightful monarch of the wilds through superiority, he roamed freely about, indifferent as to where he went or whether or not he was seen. He has been wise enough to readjust himself to the evolutionary and revolutionary forces introduced by man. The king of the wilderness has survived through retreat; he has become the master of strategy. Instinct hardly accounts for this swift evolution. The readjustment--avoiding man--does not indicate cowardice; it indicates brains. In the warfare of existence, in changing, exacting environments, the grizzly bear has risen triumphant.

Description, History, and Classification

Bears appear to be of Old World origin. Fossils tell of their existence in Asia eons ago. The first bear emigrants perhaps landed in Alaska more than a million years ago. They may have come over on one of the land bridges which have at times connected Asia and America.

"In the Old World, bears were first distinguishable in the Upper Miocene, and may there be traced back to forms which were unmistakably derivatives of the early dogs," says Mr. William B. Scott in "A History of Land Mammals in the Western Hemisphere."

It is interesting that bears, dogs, and seals descended from a common ancestor. Seals have been called "sea bears." The bear lives for a long period each year without either food or drink. During this period he lies dormant. The seal has the habit of doing without food and drink and also sleep for weeks while leading an active life. The bear and the dog are alike in many ways. Both accept domestication readily and both become loyal and intimate associates of man. Many of their ways in play are alike, and each has the habit of sometimes becoming restless in his home locality and traveling afar for adventure.

In North America bears have branched out into numerous species, and here they have attained their greatest development. South America has, perhaps, only one small species, and Africa only one. Europe and Asia combined are accredited with having eight species.

The grizzly is distributed over the western half of North America, from northern Alaska far down into Mexico. His home is more generally in the mountains. He is also found in the barren lands of Canada, in the Bad Lands of the Upper Missouri, and in the western margin of the Great Plains. On a number of the wilderness islands of the Alaskan and Northwest Coast, where he is of unusually large size, he forms a numerous population.

The similarity of the mental processes and the customs of the various species of Alaskan bears has been remarked upon by many people. Mr. Charles Sheldon, the hunter-scientist, says:--

"Nothing is more striking than the general similarity in nature,
actions, appearance, and habits of both the brown bears of the humid
coast region of Alaska and the grizzlies of the dry interior. The
several species of both the coast and inland bears differ more or
less widely in size, anatomy, color, and claws, but no one can
observe them in their natural habitats without realizing that all
have descended from a common ancestor."

The little that I have seen of the polar bear suggests to me that he may be related to the grizzly. It is interesting that the coats of the polar bear are uniformly white, while those of the grizzly are of assorted colors.

The grizzly is scattered over a vast and varied range, feeds on a variety of food, and is divided into numerous species and subspecies, but he ever runs true to character, everywhere is one hundred per cent grizzly. The chief points of dissimilarity in the different species are the shape of the skull and the character of the teeth. Rarely is there any difference apparent in the living animals; the classification is determined chiefly from the teeth and the formation of the skull.

Color is no clue to the species. Color may vary as much in one species, or even in one litter of cubs, as in different species widely separated as to locality. Assemble a number of grizzlies representing each of the many species and subspecies, and there will be a bewildering array of fur coats, perhaps no two alike. However, as I have said, the grizzly's characteristics are ever the same, no matter what the color of his coat or where he lives. Wherever you see a grizzly,--on the glaciers of Alaska, on the desert sands of Mexico, or fishing in the Columbia,--he seems as much the same old acquaintance as the bluebird who comes each spring.

The color of the species runs through many shades of brown: among them are cream, tan, mouse-color, cinnamon, and golden yellow. Black or almost white may be the fur of the grizzly, but shades of gray and brown predominate. Infrequently a grizzly is seen with a coat of more than one color. This variety of color causes confusion concerning species, but within the bounds of the United States, outside of Alaska, there are virtually only two kinds of bear, the black and the grizzly, though these are divided by naturalists into many species and subspecies according to the arrangement and forms of their teeth and the bones of the head. Cinnamon and brown are common colors of both grizzlies and black bears.