BRAINY BEARS OF THE PECOS.
The people who live on the Pecos, away up in the canyon, almost in the
afternoon shadow of Baldy and just this side of the Truchas Peaks, do
not assert that the bears of that region are wiser than the bears of
any other country on earth, for they are ready to admit that in this
wide world are many things concerning which they know nothing. But
they have never heard of any bears more thoughtful than the bears of
the Pecos, and it is doubtful if anybody else ever has.
No man can associate with bears for any considerable length of time
without having it impressed upon him that Ursus Americanus is nobody's
fool. Senor Mariano Ortiz of the Upper Pecos affirms upon the faith of
a descendant of the Conquistadores that this is so, and he ought to
know, for he and the bears have been joint occupants of the ranch for
years. There was a time when Senor Ortiz thought the Pecos country
admirably adapted to the raising of hogs, but that was before he tried
to raise hogs there and before he had learned to appreciate the mental
capacities of bears.
Senor Ortiz went down to Pecos town and bought some hogs, drove them up
the river, and turned them into his alfalfa field to fatten. They were
of genuine thoroughbred razor-back variety, trained down to sprinting
form, agile, self-reliant as mules, tougher than braided rawhide, and
disorderly in their conduct. They broke through the fence the first
night, went up into a quaking asp patch where there was nothing
eatable, and had a scrap with two bears who thought Senor Ortiz had
invested in edible pork. The hogs were wiry and pugnacious, and the
circumstantial evidence plainly indicated that the bears had no
walk-over. However, the bears managed to get one emaciated porker
after a long chase, and they bit several samples out of him. They
didn't devour the whole carcass, and they didn't try pork again for two
months.
After a few days, the hogs ceased breaking out of the field, and
settled down to the business of laying leaf lard upon their rugged
frames, a line of conduct which merited and received the hearty
approval of Don Mariano, and, as subsequent events proved, was joyously
appreciated by the bears. Don Mariano was fearful that the bears,
having discovered the prevalence of pork, would raid his field and
introduce difficulties into the business of hog raising, and he watched
the drove with some solicitude. But, to his surprise, he missed no
pigs.
One evening, just at dusk, Don Mariano saw two bears come out of the
woods just above the alfalfa field and waddle calmly down to the fence.
He hid behind a tree and watched them. When they reached the fence
they stood up and placed their forepaws upon the top rail. Thinking
they were about to go a-porking, Don Mariano picked up a club and
prepared to stampede them, but they made no move to climb the fence,
and he waited to see what their game might be. With their paws upon
the rail and their snouts resting lazily upon their paws, like two old
farmers discussing the crop prospects, the bears inspected the pigs in
clover. One of them presently lifted a hind foot and placed it upon
the bottom rail, and Don Mariano was about to break forth with a yell,
when he saw that the bear was only getting into a more lazily
comfortable position. Then the bear cocked his head to one side and
thoughtfully scratched his ear. The hogs were nosing around in the
clover, and the whole drove was in full view of the bears. The hogs
were still lean and athletic.
[Illustration: The Bears Inspected the Pigs in Clover.]
After contemplating the drove for about ten minutes, one of the bears
turned about, walked two or three steps upright, came down to all
fours, and, with a grunt, shambled slowly away. The other leisurely
followed, and they disappeared in the woods. Now, Don Mariano didn't
understand at the time, but he learned later that those bears were
sizing up his hogs, and after inspection they had decided that there
wasn't one in the lot fat enough to kill.
During the next month Don Mariano saw bears loafing about the edge of
the woods or lolling over his fence at least a dozen times, and he
couldn't at all make out what they were at, as they did not molest his
hogs. One day he noticed with satisfaction that the hogs were
improving and that one youngster, who had attended strictly to his
feed, was actually growing fat. The bears must have caught on at about
the same time, for that pig was missing the next morning.
From that time on the alfalfa field was raided nearly every night, and
the fattest pig was taken every time. A five-string barb-wire fence
proved to be no protection, and the bears wouldn't go near a spring
gun, and so, to save the remnant of his drove Senor Ortiz set about
building a stockade corral, so high that no bear could climb over it.
It was slow work cutting, hauling and setting the logs, and when the
corral was finished there was only an old sow left to be put into it.
The sow soon had a litter of a dozen pigs, and Don Mariano fed them and
saw them grow with satisfaction and certainty that the bears would not
get them. When they were about roasting size Don Mariano looked into
the corral one morning and counted only eleven little pigs. The
missing pig could not have got out, as there was no hole in the corral,
and Don Mariano eyed the old sow with suspicion. Still he was
inclined, like all good Mexican people, to explain inexplicable things
by the simple formula: "It is the will of God," and with a shrug he
dismissed the mystery from his mind.
But when he missed a second and a third little pig from the litter, he
openly and violently accused the old sow of devouring her offspring,
and talked of sending down to El Macho for the Padre. He did better
than that, however, for he isolated the old sow in a board pen and gave
the youngsters the run of the corral. A day or two later another pig
mysteriously disappeared, and Don Mariano began to suspect his next
door neighbor of reprehensible practices, and talked about sending for
the constable. Upon second thought, he strung barb wire on the top of
the stockade and set steel-traps cunningly outside. Then half a dozen
little porkers were spirited away in rapid succession, and when Don
Mariano satisfied himself that nobody on the Peco's had feasted upon
roast pig since last Christmas, he concluded that the devil had a hand
in the business for sure.
Now, Don Mariano had been heard frequently to say that he was not
afraid of the devil, and truly he was no idle braggart, for he loaded
up his gun and laid in wait for him inside the old sow's pen, grimly
determined, if the devil swooped down after another pig, to take a shot
at him flying. He felt sure of at least winging the satanic thief, for
he had scratched a cross on every buckshot in the load.
It was a moonlight night. Don Mariano lay upon the clean straw that he
had placed in the old sow's pen and waited for the hour of midnight, at
which time, as is well known, churchyards yawn and devils flit about.
He had apologized to the bereaved mother for entertaining unworthy
suspicions of her, and they were on amicable terms. Don Mariano was
almost dozing when he was startled broad awake by a familiar grunt.
Peering between two of the posts of the stockade, he saw coming across
the clearing, looming huge and distinct in the moonlight, two bears.
They were headed straight for the corral. Don Mariano knew they could
not climb the stockade, and he watched them with languid interest. But
the corral was evidently their objective point, for they lumbered along
right toward it.
"Now, look at those infatuated fool bears," said Don Mariano to
himself. "They'll get into one of the traps and make a grand row and
frighten the devil away, so that I won't get a shot. Por Dios!"
But the two fool bears did not get into a trap. Without delay they
clambered up into a large tree beside which the corral was built, and
made their way out along a big limb that hung over the corral. There
was no hesitation in their movements; clearly, they had been there
before. One of them, the lighter and more active, went well out toward
the end of the limb, and the other advanced slowly until their combined
weight bent the limb down over the top of the stockade, when the first
swung himself off by his forepaws and dropped into the corral.
"That's a very smart trick," muttered Don Mariano. "You are in, no
doubt of that, but how the devil you are going to get back is another
story."
The bear seized a pig in no time, and having broken its neck and
stopped its squealing with a dexterous right-hander on the ear, he
shuffled back to a position under the limb and stood upright, holding
the pig in his arms. Then the other and heavier bear moved out toward
the end of the limb until it bent beneath his weight so that he could
reach the pig as the lighter one held it up. The big bear took the
pig, and the other bear seized the limb and drew it down until he got a
firm hold with all four feet. Then the big bear backed away toward the
trunk and the other followed, and the limb slowly sprang up to its
natural level. The two bears backed down to the ground and waddled
across the clearing, the big one walking upright and carrying the pig
in his arms.
Don Mariano did not shoot. "The Good Father," he said, "has given
brains like that only to such of his children as have souls. I would
not commit murder for the value of a pig. Besides, I casually noticed
that I had miraculously forgotten to put caps on the gun. Nevertheless
I cut away all the limbs from the tree on the side toward the corral,
and I still have the old sow and one pig."