Park, San Francisco, a collection of very fine animal habitat groups,
among which are deer, antelope, mountain sheep, cougars, and brown
bear. While an elk group was being installed, it happened that the
taxidermist, Mr. Paul Fair, said to me that the next and final setting
would be one of grizzly bears. In surprise, I asked him if it were not
a fact that the California grizzly was extinct. He said this was true,
but the silver-tip bear of Wyoming was a grizzly and its range extended
westward to the Sierra Nevada Mountains; so it could properly be
classified as a Pacific Coast variety. He cited Professor Merriam's
monograph on the classification of grizzlies to prove his statements.
He also informed me that permit might be obtained from Washington to
secure these specimens in Yellowstone National Park.
Immediately I perceived an opportunity and interviewed Dr. Barton
Everman, curator of the museum, concerning the feasibility of offering
our services in taking these bears at no expense to the academy.
Incidentally, we proposed to shoot them with the bow and arrow, and
thereby answer a moot question in anthropology. The proposition
appealed to him, and he wrote to Washington for a permit to secure
specimens in this National Park, stating that the bow and arrow would
be used. I insisted upon this latter stipulation, so that there should
be no misunderstanding if, in the future, any objection was raised to
this method of hunting.
In a very short time permit was given to the academy, and we started
our preparations for the expedition. This was late in the fall of 1919,
and bear were at their best in the spring, just after hibernation; so
we had ample time.
It was planned that Mr. Compton, Mr. Young, and I should be the
hunters, and such other assistance would be obtained as seemed
necessary. We began reviewing our experience and formulating the
principles of the campaign.
Our weapons we now considered adequate in the light of our contact with
black bears. We had found that our bows were as strong as we could
handle, and ample to drive a good arrow through a horse, a fact which
we had demonstrated upon the carcasses of recently dead animals.
But we decided to add to the length of our arrowheads, and use tempered
instead of soft steel as heretofore. We took particular pains to have
them perfect in every detail.
Then we undertook the study of the anatomy of bears and the location
and size of their vital organs. In the work of William Wright on the
grizzly, we found valuable data concerning the habits and nature of
these animals.
In spite of the reputation of this bear for ferocity and tenacity of
life, we felt that, after all, he was only made of flesh and blood, and
our arrows were capable of solving the problem.
We also began preparing ourselves for the contest. Although habitually
in good physical condition, we undertook special training for the big
event. By running, the use of dumbbells and other gymnastic practices,
we strengthened our muscles and increased our endurance. Our field
shooting was also directed toward rapid delivery and the quick judgment
of distances on level, uphill, and falling ground. In fact, we planned
to leave no factor for success untried.
My brother, G. D. Pope, of Detroit, being a hunter of big game with the
gun, was invited to join the party, and his advice was asked concerning
a reliable guide. He gladly consented to come with us and share the
expenses. At the same time he suggested Ned Frost, of Cody, Wyoming, as
the most experienced hunter of grizzly bears in America.
About this time one of my professional friends visited the Smithsonian
Institute at Washington, where he met a member of the staff, who
inquired if he knew Doctor Pope, of San Francisco, a man that was
contemplating shooting grizzlies with the bow and arrow. The doctor
replied that he did, whereat the sage laughed and said that the feat
was impossible, most dangerous and foolhardy; it could not be done. We
fully appreciated the danger involved--therein lay some of the zest.
But we also knew that even should we succeed in killing them in
Yellowstone Park, the glory would be sullied by the popular belief that
all park bears are hotel pets, live upon garbage, and that it was a
cruel shame to torment them with arrows.
So in my early correspondence with Frost, I assured him that we did not
want to shoot any tame bears and that we would not consider the trip at
all if this were necessary. He assured us that this was not necessary,
and reminded us that Yellowstone Park was fifty miles wide by sixty
miles long, and that some of the highest portions of the Rocky
Mountains lay in it. The animals in this preserve, he said, were far
from tame and the bears were divided into two distinct groups, one
mostly composed of black and brown with a few inferior specimens of
grizzlies that frequent the dumps back of the camps and hotels, and
another group of bears that never came near civilization, but lived
entirely up in the rugged mountains and were as dangerous and wary as
those in Alaska or any other wild country. These bear wander outside
the park and furnish hunting material throughout the neighboring State.
He promised to put us in communication with grizzlies that were as
unspoiled and unafraid as those first seen by Lewis and Clarke in their
early explorations.
After explaining the purposes of our trip and the use of the bow, Ned
Frost agreed that it was a real sporting proposition and took up the
plan with enthusiasm. I sent him a sample arrow we used in hunting, and
his letter in reply I take the liberty of printing. It is typical of
the frontier spirit and comes, not only from the foremost grizzly
hunter of all times, but discloses the man's bigness of heart:
"My dear Doctor:
"Your letter of the 18th was received a day or so ago, and last
night I received 'Good Medicine' [a hunting arrow] on the evening
train, and I feel better away down deep about this hunt after a
good examination of this little Grizzly Tickler than I have at any
time before. I have, by mistake, let it simmer out in a quiet way
that I was going to see what a grizzly would really do if he had a
few sticks stuck in his innerds, and my friends have been giving
the Mrs. and me a regular line of farewell parties. Really, I think
it has been a splendid paying thing to do; pork chops are high, you
know, and I really feel I am off to the good about nine dollars and
six bits worth of bacon and flour right now on this deal. Maybe
I'll be in debt to you before green-grass if I don't look out.
"Well, anyway, here is hoping we will all live through it and have
a dandy time. Don't worry about coming to blows with the bear; I
have noticed from long experience that it is not the times that you
think a bear is going to give you trouble that it happens, but
always when least expected. I have trailed wounded grizzlies time
and time again, and was more or less worried all the while, but
never had one turn on me yet. Then, too, I have had about three
experiences with them that made my hair stand straight up, and when
it finally settled, it had more FROST in it than ever before; and
let me add right here, that one of the worst places I ever got into
was when I had sixteen of the best bear dogs that were ever gotten
together I believe, after an old she-grizzly, and I was like you,
thought they would hold the bear's attention. BUT, don't let any
notion like this get you into trouble. Now, I am not running down
dogs as a means of getting bear; I love them and would now have a
good pack if it was possible to run them in the game fields of this
State, but you don't want to think that they can handle a grizzly
like they do a black bear. In fact, I would place no value on them
whatsoever as a safeguard in case a grizzly got on the pack, and I
am speaking from experience, mind you. No, a good little shepherd
would do more than a dozen regular bear dogs, but there is only
about one little shepherd like I speak of in a lifetime.
"If you can use the bow from horseback, here is a safe proposition,
and I believe a practical one, too. But I don't feel that there is
really so much danger in the game after all, as it is only once in
a great while that any bear will go up against the human animal,
and then is most likely to be when you are not expecting it at all.
Don't worry about it. What I am thinking about most is to get the
opportunity to get the first arrow into some good big worthy old
boy that will be a credit to the expedition.
"There are lots of grizzlies in the park all right, and some of
them are not very wild, but if you get out away from the hotels a
few miles, they are not going to come up and present their
broadsides to you at thirty yards. So, as I say, I am thinking
mostly about the chances of getting the opportunities. I don't
know, of course, just how close you can place your arrows at thirty
yards, and it is getting the first hole into them that I am most
interested in now. I feel that we ought to get some good chances,
as I have seen so many bear in the park; but, of course, have never
hunted them and don't know just how keen they will be when it comes
right down to getting their hides. There are some scattered all
over the park that will rob a camp at night, and some of them will
even put up a fight for it, but most of them will beat it as soon
as one gets after them.
"It would be impossible, I believe, to keep dogs still while
watching a bait, as they would get the scent of any approaching
bear, and then you would not be able to keep them quiet, and they
would most likely scare the bear out of the country. I can rustle a
few dogs to take along if you want them, and pretty good dogs, too;
but I am not strong for them myself only in this way, to put them
on the trail of a bear and take a good horse apiece, so that we
could get up to the chase and have a chance to land on him. This
might be a good thing to try if all others failed.
"I know how you feel about killing clean with the bow and not
having any shooting, and I can assure you that I would let 'em get
just as close as you want them, and not feel any concern about
their getting the best of anybody, and you would have a chance to
use the bow well in this case; but I am more prone to think they
will beat it off with a lot of your perfectly good arrows than
anything else.
"Yours truly,
"NED FROST."
It was apparent from the first that dogs were of little use in taking
grizzly. It would be necessary to shoot from blinds set conveniently
near bait. Frost assured us that bears of this variety, when just out
of hibernation and lean, would run out of the country if chased by a
pack of dogs, and incidentally kill all that they could catch. In the
fall of the year, when the bears are fat, they refuse to run, but wade
through the pack, which is unable to keep him from attacking the
hunter.
As an example of this, he related an instance where he started a
grizzly with eight or ten Russian bear hounds, and chased the beast
about thirty miles. As he followed on horseback, he found one after the
other of his dogs torn to pieces, disemboweled, and dismembered. At
last, he came upon the bear at bay in deep snow, against a high cliff.
Only two of his hounds were left, and one of these had a broken leg.
Mad with vengeance, Frost shot the grizzly. It charged him at forty
yards. In quick succession he fired five bullets in the oncoming bear,
seemingly with no effect. Up to his waist in the snow, he was unable to
avoid its rush. It came on and fell dead on his chest, with the
faithful hound hanging to it in a desperate effort to save his master.
This is one of the three or four maulings that Ned has received in his
hunting experiences, which, he says, "have added frost to my golden
locks." The dog became a cherished pet in the family for many years.
Frost killed his first bear when fourteen years of age, and has added
nearly five hundred to this number since that time.
It is characteristic of the grizzly that he will charge upon the
slightest provocation, and that nothing will turn him aside from his
purpose. Later we found this particularly true where the female with
cubs is concerned.
Instances of this are too well known to recount, but one coming under
our own experience was related to me by Tom Murphy, the bear hunter of
California.
In early days in Humboldt County, there lived an old settler named Pete
Bluford, who was a squaw man. He shot a female grizzly with cubs within
a quarter of a mile of what are now the town limits of Blocksburg. The
beast charged and struck him to the ground. At the same time she ripped
open the man's abdomen. Bluford dropped under a fallen tree, where the
bear repeatedly assaulted him, tearing at his body. By rolling back and
forth as the grizzly leaped over the log to reach him from the other
side, he escaped further injury. Worried by the hunter's dog, she
finally ceased her efforts and wandered off. The man was able to reach
home in spite of a large open wound in his abdomen, with protruding
intestines. This was roughly sewed together by his friend, Beany
Powell. He recovered from the experience and lived many years with the
Indians of that locality. As an example of Western humor, it is related
that Beany Powell, when sewing up the wound with twine and a sack
needle, found a large lump of fat protruding from the incision, of
which he was unable to dispose; so he cut it off, tried out the grease
in the frying-pan and used it to grease his boots.
Old Bluford became a character in the country. He was, in fact, what is
colloquially known as "an old poison oaker." This is an individual who
sinks so low in the scale of civilization that he lives out in the
backwoods or poison oak brush and becomes animal in type. His hair grew
to his shoulders, his beard was unkempt, his finger nails were as long
as claws and filthy with dirt. Rags of unknown antiquity partially
covered his limbs, vermin infested his body and he stayed with the most
degraded remnants of the Indians.
One cold winter they found him dead in his dilapidated cabin. He lay on
the dirt floor, his ragged coat over his face, his hands beneath his
head, and two house cats lay frozen, one beneath each arm. These old
pioneers were strange people and died strange deaths.
In our plans to capture grizzlies we took into consideration the
proclivity of this beast to attack. We knew his speed was tremendous.
He is able to catch a horse or a dog on the run. Therefore, it is
useless for a man to try to run away from him. There is no such thing
as being able to climb a tree if the animal is at close quarters. Adams
has shown that it is a mistake to attempt it. One only stretches
himself out inviting evisceration in the effort.
We decided if cornered either to dodge or to lie flat and feign death.
So we practiced dodging, our running being more for the purpose of
gaining endurance and to follow the bear if necessary.
Ishi, the Yana Indian, said that grizzlies were to be overcome with
arrows and if they charged, they were to be met with the spear and
fire. So we constructed spears having well-tempered blades more than a
foot in length set upon heavy iron tubing and riveted to strong ash
handles six feet in length. Back of the blade we fashioned quick
lighting torches of cotton waste saturated with turpentine. These could
be ignited by jerking a lanyard fastened to a spring faced with
sandpaper. The spring rested on the ends of several matches. It was an
ingenious and reliable device.
The Esquimaux used a long spear in hunting the polar bear. It was ten
or twelve feet in length. After being shot with an arrow, if the bear
charged, they rested the butt of the spear on the ground, lowered the
point and let the bear impale himself on it.
When the time came to use our weapons, Ned Frost dissuaded us from the
attempt. He said that he once owned a pet grizzly and kept it fast with
a long chain in the back yard. This bear was so quick that it could lie
in its kennel, apparently asleep, and if a chicken passed within proper
distance, with incredible quickness she reached out a paw and seized
the chicken without the slightest semblance of effort. And when at
play, the boys tried to stick the bear with a pitchfork, she would
parry the thrusts and protect herself like a boxer. It was impossible
to touch her.
The fire, Frost thought, might serve at night, but in the daylight it
would lose its effect. So he insisted that he would carry a gun to be
used in case of attack. On our part, we stipulated that he was to
resort to it only to prevent disaster and protested that such an
exigency must be looked upon by us as a complete failure of our plans.
We knew we could not stop the mad rush of a bear with our arrows, but
we hoped to kill at least one by this means and compromise on the rest
if necessary.
Indians, besides employing the spear, poisoned arrows, and fire, also
used protected positions, or shot from horseback. We scorned to shoot
from a tree and were told that few horses could be ridden close enough,
or fast enough, to get within bowshot of a grizzly.
Inquiry among those qualified to know, led to the estimate of the
number of all bears in the Park to be between five hundred and one
thousand. Considering that there are some three thousand square miles
of land, that there were nearly sixty thousand elk, besides hundreds of
bison, antelope, mountain sheep, and similar animals, this does not
seem improbable. I am aware that recent statements are to the effect
that there were only forty grizzlies there. This is palpably an
underestimate, and probably takes into account only those that frequent
the dumps. Frost believes that there are several hundred grizzlies in
the Park, many of which range out in the adjacent country. So we felt
no fear of decimating their ranks, and had every hope of seeing many.
In fact, their number has so increased in recent years that they have
become a menace and require killing off.
During the past five years four persons have either been mauled or
killed by grizzlies in Yellowstone. One of these was a teamster by the
name of Jack Walsh. He was sleeping under his wagon at Cold Springs
when a large bear seized him by the arm, dragged him forth and ripped
open his abdomen. Walsh died of blood poison and peritonitis a few days
later. Frost himself was attacked. He was conducting a party of
tourists through the preserve and had just been explaining to them
around the camp-fire that there was no danger of bears. He slept in the
tent with a horse wrangler by the name of Phonograph Jones. In the
middle of the night a huge grizzly entered his tent and stepped on the
head of Jones, peeling the skin off his face by the rough pressure of
his paw. The man waked with a yell, whereupon the bear clawed out his
lower ribs. The cry roused Frost, who having no firearms, hurled his
pillow at the bear.
With a roar, the grizzly leaped upon Ned, who dived into his sleeping
bag. The animal grasped him by the thighs, and dragged him from the
tent out into the forest, sleeping bag and all. As he carried off his
victim, he shook him from side to side as a dog shakes a rat. Frost
felt the great teeth settle down on his thigh bones and expected
momentarily to have them crushed in the powerful jaws. In a thicket of
jack pines over a hundred yards from camp, the bear shook him so
violently that the muscles of the man's thighs tore out and he was
hurled free from the bag. He landed half-naked in the undergrowth
several yards away.
While the frenzied bear still worried the bedding, Frost dragged
himself to a near-by pine and pulled himself up in its branches by the
strength of his arms.
The camp was in an uproar; a huge fire was kindled; tin pans were
beaten; one of the helpers mounted a horse and by circling around the
bear, succeeded in driving him away.
After first aid measures were administered, Frost was successfully
nursed back to health and usefulness by his wife. But since that time
he has an inveterate hatred of grizzlies, hunting them with grim
persistency.
It is said that nearly forty obnoxious grizzlies were shot by the Park
rangers after this episode and Frost was given a permit to carry a
weapon. We found later that he always went to sleep with a Colt
automatic pistol strapped to his wrist.
We planned to enter the Park in two parties. One, comprised of Frost,
the cook, horse wrangler, my brother, and his friend, Judge Henry
Hulbert, of Detroit, was to proceed from Cody and come with a pack
train across Sylvan Pass. Our party consisted of Arthur Young and
myself; Mr. Compton was unexpectedly prevented from joining us by
sickness in his family. We were to journey by rail to Ashton. This was
the nearest point to Yellowstone Station on the boundary of the
reservation that could be reached by railroad in winter.
We arrived at this point near the last of May 1920. The roads beyond
were blocked with snow, but by good fortune, we were taken in by one of
the first work trains entering the region through the personal interest
and courtesy of the superintendent of the Pocatello division.
We had shipped ahead of us a quantity of provisions and came outfitted
only with sleeping bags, extra clothing, and our archery equipment.
This latter consisted of two bows apiece and a carrying case containing
one hundred and forty-four broad-heads, the finest assembly of bows and
arrows since the battle of Crecy.
Young had one newly made bow weighing eighty-five pounds and his
well-tried companion of many hunts, Old Grizzly, weighing seventy-five
pounds.
He later found the heavier weapon too strong for him in the cold
weather of the mountains, where a man's muscles stiffen and lose their
power, while his bow grows stronger.
My own bows were seventy-five pounds apiece--"Old Horrible," my
favorite, a hard hitter and sweet to shoot, and "Bear Slayer," the
fine-grained, crooked-limbed stave with which I helped to kill our
first bear. Our arrows were the usual three-eighths birch shafts,
carefully selected, straight and true. Their heads were tempered steel,
as sharp as daggers. We had, of course, a few blunts and eagle arrows
in the lot.
In the Park we found snow deep on the ground and the roads but recently
cleared with snow plows and caterpillar tractors. We traveled by auto
to Mammoth Hot Springs and paid our respects to Superintendent
Albright, and ultimately settled in a vacant ranger's cabin near the
Canyon. Here we awaited the coming of the second party.
Our entrance into the Park was well known to the rangers, who were
instructed to give us all the assistance possible. This cabin soon
became a rendezvous for them and our evenings were spent very
pleasantly with stories and fireside music.
After several days, word was sent by telephone that Frost and his
caravan were unable to cross Sylvan Pass because of fifty feet of snow
in the defile, and that he had returned to Cody where he would take an
auto truck and come around to the northern entrance to the Park,
through Gardner, Montana.
At the expiration of three days he drove up to our cabin in a flurry of
snow. This was about the last day in May.
Frost himself is one of the finest of Western types; born and raised in
the sage brush country, a hunter of big game ever since he was large
enough to hold a gun. He was in the prime of life, a man of infinite
resource, courage, and fortitude. We admired him immensely.
With him he had a full camp outfit, selected after years of experience,
and suited to any kind of weather.
The party consisted of Art Cunningham, the cook; G.D. Pope, and Judge
Henry Hulbert. Art came equipped with a vast amount of camp craft and
cookery wisdom. My brother came to see the fun, the Judge to take
pictures and add dignity to the occasion. All were seasoned woodsmen
and hunters.
We moved to more commodious quarters, a log cabin in the vicinity, made
ourselves comfortable, and let the wind-driven snow pile deep drifts
about our warm shelter while we planned a campaign against the
grizzlies.
So far, we had met few bears, and these were of the tourist variety.
They had stolen bacon from the elevated meat safe, and one we found in
the woods sitting on his haunches calmly eating the contents of a box
of soda crackers. These were the hotel pets and were nothing more than
of passing interest to us.
Contrary to the usual condition, no grizzlies were to be seen. The only
animals in evidence were a few half-starved elk that had wintered in
the Park, marmots, and the Canadian jay birds.
We began our hunts on foot, exploring Hayden Valley, the Sour Creek
region, Mt. Washburn, and the headwaters of Cascade Creek.