Incidents Connected with Bear Trapping.
Several years ago, I was trapping for bears on the East Fork of the
Sinnemahoning River. I usually went on horse back as far as I could
when tending the traps. But boys, don't be bad, as I was, for this
was on Sunday that I went to look at the traps. I found the bait-pen
of the first one torn down, bait gone and everything showed plainly
that Bruin had been there. As I had no bait at hand, I went to the
next trap. I found things quite different, for the old bear had
surely "put his foot in it" this time, as the trap was gone. On
taking the trail I did not follow it far, before I found bruin fast
in an old tree-top. I soon dispatched him and taking off his coat,
hung up his carcass. Now the bait was gone at this trap also. Let me
tell you that this is something that rarely happens, for when the
bear puts his foot in a Newhouse trap, he seldom tarries to monkey
with bait. I suspected that another bear had been there after this
one had got in the trap. As I had no bait I took the lungs and heart
of the one I had caught and baited the traps the best I could, then I
took the skin and started for home. Well, when I got near the horse
you can bet there was some tall prancing and loud snorting. After a
long time I managed to get on his back and home with the skin.
The next morning I began to have some doubt whether bears were
cannibals or not. I thought I would take some fresh bait and go back
and bait the traps up good.
When I got near the trap in which I had caught the bear the day
before, I heard a great deal of wrestling going on and it did not
take long to see that I had an old he-bear hung up this time. And now
was the time that I began to realize what a boy's trick I had cut up,
for I had not taken any gun with me; only a small revolver and three
cartridges. I found that the bear was dead fast and a big one too. He
seemed to be more inclined to quarrel than bears usually are. I took
my trapping hatchet in one hand and revolver in the other, and worked
my way up close as I dared and awaited the best chance I could get to
shoot for he was rolling and tumbling like a ball. I fired at his
head but missed it. I fired the two remaining cartridges just back of
the fore-shoulders. He paid about as much attention to it as I
imagine he would if it had been a flea that bit him. After waiting
some time to see what effect the shots would have and noticing no
change in Bruin's countenance, I concluded I would see what I could
do with a club. I soon found that I and the club were not "in it," so
I gave it up as a bad job and went home after the team and a gun. On
my way home I had to pass the house of an old trapper by the name of
Stevens. Of course, he was out to see what luck I had, and when I
told him my story, he gave a great laugh and said he would go and let
the bear out of the trap. When we got back to the trap the next day
we found the fight all gone out of Bruin, for the two shots had
penetrated the lungs and he was nearly dead.
* * *
Pard, whom I call Co, and I went camping many years ago on a branch
of the Susquehanna River in Lycoming County, Pennsylvania. At that
time all that part of the country was an unbroken wilderness and we
were several miles from the nearest town. Now Co was a good hunter
but despised trapping, saying it was no gentleman's sport, yet he was
always ready to do his share in camp life.
One evening in December Co did not turn up at dark, the usual hour
for his return, still I did not worry much until eight o'clock, but
from that time until about nine I kept going to the door and giving
an occasional "Kho-Hoop," just to let him know the direction of the
camp if he was within ear shot. As Co did not return, about nine
o'clock I shouldered my rifle and started out in the direction that
he had gone, shooting off my gun, and occasionally letting out a
shout that echoed from hill to hill, but no answer came back in
reply. The weather was growing extremely cold and I began to feel
very much worried about Co for although I knew he was a good
woodsman, I imagined all sorts of calamities had befallen him. At
every high point I would fire my gun but never an answer could I
hear. I kept this up till midnight, and then retraced my steps to
camp intending to take an early start in the morning, when I could
see to track my wandering partner.
Judge of my delight, when about half a mile from camp the sharp
report of a rifle rang out on the clear night air, and I knew Pard
had returned alive. I hastened to the shanty where I found Co all
right but as mad as a hornet. As he raved around he exclaimed: "No
one but a--fool would catch anything in a--steel trap. If you must
trap things, get them in something that will stay put." When Co
cooled off a little, I said: "Come old man, tell us what has
happened." "What has happened," said he, "enough has happened, I
should think. I went where you set that tarnal old bear trap and some
critter has got into it and broken the chain and carried it off, and
he makes a track bigger than an elephant. He's making for the big
windfall and I followed him more than forty miles, and he was farther
ahead of me than when I started, and I hope he will get into the old
windfall and stay there till doomsday." Well, Pard felt better when
he had eaten the hot supper I had left for him and we turned in for a
few hours' sleep.
The next day we went to town and got a number of men and dogs and the
following morning started out early on the track of old bruin. We
soon struck the trail and located the beast in a big ravine.
Stationing the men around where the bear was likely to break cover, I
went in with the dogs to drive him out.
Now there was one young chap among the crowd called Dan, who proved
to be of rather a timid nature. The battle which soon followed proved
very short owing to the number of guns opened on the bear the moment
he broke cover and he was soon dispatched and nearly as soon skinned
and cut up. But when I looked for Dan he was nowhere to be found. A
searching party was organized and after beating the bush for some
time, poor, frightened Dan was finally located in the top of a small
beech tree and came tumbling down inquiring if the bear was "sure
dead."
* * *
I have often thought I would like to relate some of my experiences in
the woods while deer hunting. Many a time while following a herd of
deer or a wounded one over ridge after ridge, has the sun set and the
stars come out and I found myself many miles from my cabin or any
habitation. Then I would find a large fallen tree, that laid close to
the ground, gather a pile of dry limbs and bark, scrape away the snow
from the log, often the snow being a foot deep, build a fire where I
scraped the snow away. When the ground became thoroughly warm, I
would rake the coals and brands down against the log, put on more
wood, and then I would place hemlock boughs on the ground, where I
had previously had the fire. Soon they would begin to steam and after
frizzling some venison (if I chanced to have it) before the fire I
would take off my coat, lie down on my stomach, pull the coat over my
head and shoulders and sleep for hours before waking. Sometimes I
would have the skin of a bear to put over me, and for doing these
things my friends would scold me, but the reader will know, if he has
the blood of a hunter in him, that I enjoyed it.
But this is not what I started to write about, it was of a day's hunt
after a bear on the 16th day of December, 1903. On the day previous,
the afternoon sun sinking to rest in the west, casts its rays for a
moment upon a solitary hunter's cabin in the hills of old Potter,
then the bright glows faded away, the sun disappeared behind the
mountains and it was a soft beautiful twilight, while I stood just
outside the cabin door meditating. Mart (that is an old liner who had
come to my cabin to have a few days' hunt) came out of the cabin and
I said, "old man, what are you thinking about?" The reply was, "just
watching the sun set." "Don't you think the coon will be out tonight
if it holds warm?" "I don't know what the coon will do, but I know we
went around a bear over in that jam in Dead Man's Hollow. (This
hollow is so called because a fisherman a few years ago, found the
body of a man who had gotten lost and died in the snow the winter
before).
Well what do you think you will do about it? I think we had better
turn in early so as to get an early start in the morning and see if
we can find where the bear is sleeping. "Agreed," said Mart, and we
were soon in bed, but it was a long time before I closed my eyes in
sleep for I was familiar with the woods in the neighborhood where the
bear was supposed to be and I mapped out and laid every plan that was
to be carried out the next day before I went to sleep.
At four o'clock in the morning we were astir and soon breakfast was
ready and eaten, lunch put up and at the break of day we were on our
way to where bruin was supposed to be, a distance of about five
miles, which is no small job for an old cripple like myself. After
about three hours we were on the ground where we were in hopes of
finding bruin. Mart was to circle several points outside of where we
thought the bear was snoozing; this was done to make sure that the
bear was in there. I took a position where the bear was most likely
to come out if he was there and should be started by Mart. My
position was in an open piece of timber on the point of a hill and
near a very thick jam of trees that had been broken down two years
before by a heavy ice storm and near the bear track where he had gone
in several days before. Mart was to make another circle somewhat
smaller than the one he had previously made for we now knew that the
bear was in the jam of timber.
After completing the second circle Mart was to drop below the jam
where we were quite sure bruin was napping and work his way through
the fallen timber. This worked all right, for soon I heard Mart cry
out: "Look out, he is coming." Soon I heard the crashing of the brush
and could tell that bruin was coming directly toward me, and in
another minute he broke into the open timber. My rifle was already
pointed in that direction and bruin had scarcely made two jumps in
the open timber when I fired. The bear made a loud noise like that of
a hog and I knew that he was hit hard and could already see a crimson
streak in the snow. But bruin steadily held his course, in a few
yards further he made an attempt to jump a large fallen tree and I
fired again. This shot was more fatal than the first, and he fell to
the ground and could not rise. I hurried up and fired a shot through
his head which soon quieted him. Mart was soon on the scene and after
a little rejoicing we soon had his hide off, and cutting the fore
parts off and hanging them in a tree to be brought out the next day.
Mart took the saddles and I the skin and started for camp, which we
reached shortly before dark, and as we had prepared things for supper
before leaving in the morning, supper was soon ready which consisted
of buckwheat cakes, wild honey, baked potatoes, bacon, bear steak and
tea. Dear readers, do not tell Mart, but I think that he took a hot
toddy after talking the hunt over and over. Again, we laid down to
rest our weary selves and dream of the hunt which may never come.