HUNTING THE GRIZZLY BEAR.
The bear, like man, inhabits almost every latitude and every land, and
has even been translated to the starry heavens, where the constellations
of the Great Dipper and the Little Dipper are known to us as well as to
the ancients as _Ursi Major_ and _Minor_. But North America furnishes
the largest and most aggressive species in the grizzly (_Ursus
horribilis_), the black (_Ursus americanus_), and the polar (_Ursus
maritimus_) bears, and here the hunter finds his most daring sport. Of
all the known plantigrades (flat-footed beasts) the grizzly is the most
savage and the most dreaded, and he is the largest of all, saving the
presence of his cousin the polar bear, for which, nevertheless, he is
more than a match in strength and courage. Some specimens measure seven
feet from tip of nose to root of tail. The distinctive marks of the
species are its great size; the shortness of the tail as compared with
the ears; the huge flat paws, the sole of the hind foot sometimes
measuring seven and a half by five inches in a large male; the length of
the hind legs as compared with the fore legs, which gives the beast his
awkward, shambling gait; the long claws of the fore foot, sometimes
seven inches in length, while those of the hind foot measure only three
or four; the erect, bristling mane of stiff hair, often six inches long;
the coarse hair of the body, sometimes three inches long, dark at the
base, but with light tips. He has a dark stripe along the back, and one
along each side, the hair on his body being, as a rule, a
brownish-yellow, the region around the ears dusky, the legs nearly
black, and the muzzle pale. Color, however, is not a distinctive mark,
for female grizzlies have been killed in company with two cubs, one of
which was brown, the other gray, or one dark, the other light; and the
supposed species of "cinnamon" and "brown" bears are merely color
variations of _Ursus horribilis_ himself.
This ubiquitous gentleman has a wide range for his habitat. He has been
found on the Missouri river from Fort Pierre northward, and thence west
to his favorite haunts in the Rockies; on the Pacific slope clear down
to the coast; as far south as Mexico, and as far north as the Great
Slave Lake in British America. He not only ranges everywhere, but eats
everything. His majesty is a good liver. He is not properly a beast of
prey, for he has neither the cat-like instincts, nor the noiseless tread
of the _felidae_, nor is he fleet and long-winded like the wolf, although
good at a short run, as an unlucky hunter may find. But he hangs about
the flanks of a herd of buffalo, with probably an eye to a wounded or
disabled animal, and he frequently raids a ranch and carries off a
sheep, hog, or calf that is penned beyond the possibility of escape.
Elk is his favorite meat, and the knowing hunter who has the good luck
to kill an elk makes sure that its carcass will draw Mr. Grizzly if he
is within a range of five miles. He will eat not only flesh, fish, and
fowl, but roots, herbs, fruit, vegetables, honey, and insects as well.
Plums, buffalo-berries, and choke-cherries make a large part of his diet
in their seasons.
[Illustration: DEATH AND THE CAUSE OF IT.]
The grizzly bear possesses greater vitality and tenacity of life than
any other animal on the continent, and the hunter who would hunt him
must be well armed and keep a steady nerve. Each shot must be cooly put
where it will do the most good. Several are frequently necessary to
stop one of these savage beasts. A single bullet lodged in the brain is
fatal. If shot through the heart he may run a quarter of a mile or kill
a man before he succumbs. In the days of the old muzzle-loading rifle it
was hazardous indeed to hunt the grizzly, and many a man has paid the
penalty of his folly with his life. With our improved breech-loading and
repeating rifles there is less risk.
The grizzly is said to bury carcasses of large animals for future use as
food, but this I doubt. I have frequently returned to carcasses of elk
or deer that I had killed and found that during my absence bears had
partially destroyed them, and in their excitement, occasioned by the
smell or taste of fresh meat, had pawed up the earth a good deal
thereabout, throwing dirt and leaves in various directions, and some of
this debris may have fallen on the bodies of the dead game; but I have
never seen where any systematic attempt had been made at burying a
carcass. Still, Bruin may have played the sexton in some cases. He
hibernates during winter, but does not take to his long sleep until the
winter has thoroughly set in and the snow is quite deep. He may
frequently be tracked and found in snow a foot deep, where he is roaming
in search of food. He becomes very fat before going into winter
quarters, and this vast accumulation of oil furnishes nutriment and heat
sufficient to sustain life during his long confinement.
The newspapers often kill grizzlies weighing 1,500, 1,800, or even 2,000
pounds, and in any party of frontiersmen "talking grizzly" you will find
plenty of men who can give date and place where they killed or helped
to kill at least 1,800 pounds of Bruin.
"Did you weigh it?"
"No, we didn't weigh 'im; but every man as seed 'im said he would weigh
that, and they was all good jedges, too."
And this is the way most of the stories of big bear, big elk, big deer,
etc., begin and end. Bears are usually, though not always, killed at
considerable distances from towns, or even ranches, where it is not easy
to find a scales large enough to weigh so much meat.
The largest grizzly I have ever killed would not weigh more than 700 or
800 pounds, and I do not believe one has ever lived that would weigh
1,000 pounds. The flesh of the adult grizzly is tough, stringy, and
decidedly unpalatable, but that of a young fat one is tender and juicy,
and is always a welcome dish on the hunter's table.
The female usually gives birth to two cubs, and sometimes three, at a
time. At birth they weigh only about 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 pounds each. The
grizzly breeds readily in confinement, and several litters have been
produced in the Zoological Gardens at Cincinnati. The female is
unusually vicious while rearing her young, and the hunter must be doubly
cautious about attacking at that time. An Indian rarely attacks a
grizzly single-handed at any time, and it is only when several of these
native hunters are together that they will attempt to kill one. They
value the claws very highly, however, and take great pride in wearing
strings of them around their necks.
The grizzly usually frequents the timbered or brush-covered portions of
mountainous regions, or the timbered valleys of streams that head in the
mountains. He occasionally follows down the course of these streams, and
even travels many miles from one stream to another, or from one range of
mountains to another, across open prairie. I once found one on a broad
open plateau in the Big Horn Mountains, about half a mile from the
nearest cover of any kind. He was turning over rocks in search of worms.
At the report of my rifle he started for the nearest canyon, but never
reached it. An explosive bullet through his lungs rendered him unequal
to the journey.
Few persons believe that a grizzly will attack a man before he is
himself attacked. I was one of these doubting Thomases until a few years
ago, when I was thoroughly convinced by ocular demonstration that some
grizzlies, at least, will attempt to make a meal off a man even though
he may not have harmed them previously. We were hunting in the Shoshone
Mountains in Northern Wyoming. I had killed a large elk in the morning,
and on going back to the carcass in the afternoon to skin it we saw that
Bruin had been there ahead us, but had fled on our approach. Without the
least apprehension of his return, we leaned our rifles against a tree
about fifty feet away, and commenced work. There were three of us, but
only two rifles, Mr. Huffman, the photographer, having left his in camp.
He had finished taking views of the carcass, and we were all busily
engaged skinning, when, hearing a crashing in the brush and a series of
savage roars and growls, we looked up the hill, and were horrified to
see three grizzly bears, an old female and two cubs about two-thirds
grown, charging upon us with all the savage fury of a pack of starving
wolves upon a sheepfold.
To make a long story short, we killed the old female and one cub; the
other escaped into the jungle before we could get a shot at him. The
resolute front we put on alone saved our lives.
In another instance, when hunting deer in Idaho, I came suddenly upon a
female grizzly and two cubs, when the mother bear charged me savagely
and would have killed me had I not fortunately controlled my nerves long
enough to put a couple of bullets through her and stop her before she
got to me.
I have heard of several other instances of grizzlies making unprovoked
attacks on men, which were so well substantiated that I could not
question the truth of the reports.
The grizzly is partially nocturnal in his habits, and apparently divides
his labor of obtaining food and his traveling about equally between day
and night. It is not definitely known to what age he lives in his wild
state, but he is supposed to attain to twenty-five or thirty years.
Several have lived in domestication to nearly that age, and one died in
Union Park, Chicago, a few years ago, that was known to be eighteen
years old.
Notwithstanding the great courage and ferocity of this formidable beast,
he will utter the most pitiable groans and howls when seriously or
mortally wounded.
Two brothers were prospecting in a range of mountains near the
headwaters of the Stinking Water river. The younger of the two, though
an ablebodied man, and capable of doing a good day's work with a pick or
shovel, was weak-minded, and the elder brother never allowed him to go
any distance away from camp or their work alone. He, however, sent him
one evening to the spring, a few rods off, to bring a kettleful of
water. The spring was in a deep gorge, and the trail to it wound through
some fissures in the rock. As the young man passed under a shelving
rock, an immense old female grizzly, that had taken up temporary
quarters there, reached out and struck a powerful blow at his head, but
fortunately could not reach far enough to do him any serious harm. The
blow knocked his hat off, and her claws caught his scalp, and laid it
open clear across the top of his head in several ugly gashes. The force
of the blow sent him spinning around, and not knowing enough to be
frightened, he attacked her savagely with the only weapon he had at
hand--the camp kettle.
The elder brother heard the racket, and hastily catching up his rifle
and hurrying to the scene of the disturbance, found his brother
vigorously belaboring the bear over the head with the camp kettle, and
the bear striking savage blows at him, any one of which, if she could
have reached him, would have torn his head from his shoulders. Three
bullets from the rifle, fired in rapid succession, loosened her hold
upon the rocks, and she tumbled lifelessly into the trail. The poor
idiotic boy could not even then realize the danger through which he had
passed, and could only appease his anger by continuing to maul the bear
over the head with the camp kettle for several minutes after she was
dead.
Some years ago I went into the mountains with a party of friends to hunt
elk. Our guide told us we should find plenty of grouse along the trail,
from the day we left the settlements; that on the third day out we
should find elk, and that it would therefore be useless to burden our
pack-horses with meat. We accordingly took none save a small piece of
bacon.
Contrary to his predictions, however, we found no grouse or other small
game _en route_, and soon ate up our bacon. Furthermore, we were five
days in reaching the elk country, instead of three as he said. All this
time we were climbing mountains and had appetites that are known only to
mountain climbers. We had plenty of bread and potatoes, but these were
not sufficient. We hankered for flesh, and though we filled ourselves
with vegetable food, yet were we hungry.
Finally we reached our destination at midday. While we were unloading
the horses, a "fool hen" came and lit in a tree near us. A rifle ball
beheaded her, and almost before she was done kicking she was in the
frying pan.
A negro once had a bottle of whisky, and was making vigorous efforts to
get outside of it, when a chum came up and asked for a pull at it. "O,
g'long, nigger," said the happy owner of the corn juice. "What's one
bottle of whisky 'mong one man?" And what was one little grouse among
five half-starved men? The smell and taste only made us long for more.
After dinner we all went out and hunted until dark. Soon after leaving
camp some of us heard lively firing up the canyon, where our guide had
gone, and felt certain that he had secured meat, for we had heard
glowing accounts, from him and his friends, of his prowess as a hunter.
The rest of us were not so despondent, therefore, when we returned at
dusk empty handed, as we should otherwise have been, until we reached
camp and found the guide there wearing a long face and bloodless hands.
He told a doleful story of having had five fair shots at a large bull
elk, who stood broadside on, only seventy-five yards away, but who
finally became alarmed at the fusilade and fled, leaving no blood on his
trail. The guide of course anathematized his gun in the choicest terms
known to frontiersmen, and our mouths watered as we thought of what
might have been.
Our potatoes, having been compelled to stand for meat also, had vanished
rapidly, and we ate the last of them for supper that night. Few words
were spoken and no jokes cracked over that meal. We ate bread straight
for breakfast, and turning out early hunted diligently all day. We were
nearly famished when we returned at night and no one had seen any living
thing larger than a pine squirrel. It is written that "man shall not
live by bread alone," and we found that we could not much longer. And
soon we should not have even that, for our flour was getting low. But we
broke the steaming flat-cake again at supper, and turned in to dream of
juicy steaks, succulent joints, and delicious rib roasts.
We were up before daylight to find that six or eight inches of light
snow had fallen silently during the night, which lay piled up on the
branches of the trees, draping the dense forests in ghostly white. Our
drooping spirits revived, for we hoped that the tell-tale mantle would
enable us to find the game we so much needed in our business. We broke
our bread more cheerfully that morning than for two days previously, but
at the council of war held over the frugal meal, decided that unless we
scored that day we must make tracks for the nearest ranch the next
morning, and try to make our scanty remnant of flour keep us alive until
we could get there.
Breakfast over we scattered ourselves by the four points of the compass
and set out. It fell to my lot to go up the canyon. Silently I strode
through the forest, scanning the snow in search of foot-prints, but for
an hour I could see none. Then, as I cautiously ascended a ridge, I
heard a crash in the brush beyond and reached the summit just in time to
see the latter end of a large bull elk disappear in the thicket.
He had not heard or seen me, but had winded me, and tarried not for
better acquaintance. I followed his trail some three miles up the canyon,
carefully penetrating the thickets and peering among the larger trees,
but never a glimpse could I get and never a sound could I hear of him.
He seemed unusually wild. I could see by his trail that he had not
stopped, but had kept straight away on that long, swinging trot that is
such a telling gait of the species, and which they will sometimes keep
up for hours together. Finally I came to where he had left the canyon
and ascended the mountain. I followed up this for a time, but seeing
that he had not yet paused, and finding that my famished condition
rendered me unequal to the climb, was compelled to abandon the pursuit
and with a heavy heart return again to the canyon. I kept on up it, but
could find no other game or sign of any. Like the red hunter, in the
time of famine, who
"Vainly walked through the forest,
Sought for bird, or beast, and found none;
Saw no track of deer or rabbit,
In the snow beheld no foot-prints,
In the ghostly gleaming forest
Fell and could not rise from weakness,"
so I trudged on until, wearied and worn out, I lay down beside a giant
fir tree, whose spreading branches had kept the snow from the ground,
and fell asleep. When I awoke my joints were stiff and sore, and I was
chilled to the bone. It was late in the afternoon, and a quiet,
drizzling rain had set in.
I found the trail that led through the canyon, and started back to camp,
trudging along as rapidly as possible, for hunger was gnawing at my
vitals and my strength was fast failing.
"Over snow-fields waste and pathless,
Under snow-encumbered branches,
Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,"
I toiled wearily on. The snow had become saturated with the rain, and
great chunks of it were falling from the trees with dull, monotonous
sounds. "Slush, slush," "Splash, splash," came the gloomy sounds from
all parts of the woods. I was nearing camp, and had abandoned all hope
of seeing game. My only object was to reach shelter, to rest, and feast
on the unsatisfying bread. I heard a succession of the splashings that
came from my left with such regular cadence as to cause me to look up,
when, great St. Hubert! there came a huge grizzly bear shambling and
splashing along through the wet snow. It was his footsteps that I had
been hearing for a minute or two past, and which I had, at first,
thought to be the falling snow.
He had not yet seen me, and what a marvelous change came over me! I
forgot that I was tired; that I was weak; that I was hungry. The
instincts of the hunter reanimated me, and I thought only of killing the
grand game before me. I threw down my rifle, raising the hammer as the
weapon came into position, and the click of the lock reached his ear. It
was the first intimation he had of possible danger, and he stopped and
threw up his head to look and listen. My thoughts came and went like
flashes of lightning. I remembered then the famishing condition of
myself and friends. Here was meat, and I must save it. There must be no
nervousness--no wild shooting now. This shot _must_ tell. And there was
not a tremor in all my system. Every nerve was as of steel for the
instant. The little gold bead on the muzzle of the rifle instantly found
the vital spot behind the bear's shoulder, gleamed through the rear
sight like a spark of fire, and before he had time to realize what the
strange apparition was that had so suddenly confronted him, the voice of
the Winchester was echoing through the canyon and an express bullet had
crashed through his vitals.
The shock was so sudden and the effect on him so deadly that he
apparently thought nothing of fight, but only of seeking a place to die
in peace.
He wheeled and shot into a neighboring thicket with the speed of an
arrow. I fired at him again as he disappeared. He crashed through the
jungle out into the open woods, turned to the right and went across a
ridge as if Satan himself were after him. As the big gray mass shot
through a clear space between two trees I gave him another speeder, and
then he disappeared beyond a ridge.
The snow had melted rapidly and the ground was bare in places, so that I
had some trouble in trailing the bear, but wherever he crossed a patch
of snow his trail was bespattered with blood. I followed over the ridge
and through scattering jack pines, about two hundred yards, and found
him lying dead near the trail. My first and third bullets had gone in
behind his shoulder only an inch apart. The first had passed clear
through him, and the other had lodged against the skin on the opposite
side. Several ribs were broken on either side, and his lungs and other
portions of his interior were ground into sausage; yet so great was his
vitality and tenacity to life that he was able to make this distance at
a speed that would have taxed the best horse in the country, and if he
had seen fit to attack me instead of running away he would probably have
made sausage of me.
But what feasting and what revelry there was in camp that night. It was
a young bear, fat as butter, and rib roasts and cutlets were devoured in
quantities that would have shocked the modesty of a tramp. Not until
well into the night did we cease to eat, and wrap ourselves in our
blankets. We staid several days in the canyon after that, and killed
plenty of elk and other game.
* * * * *
The skin of the grizzly is one of the most valuable trophies a sportsman
can obtain on any field, and its rarity, and the danger and excitement
attending the taking of it, the courage it bespeaks on the part of the
hunter, render it a prize of which the winner may justly feel proud for
a lifetime.
The best localities in which to hunt the grizzly bear--that is, those
most accessible and in which he is now most numerous--are the Big Horn,
Shoshone, Wind River, Bear Tooth, Belt, and Crazy Mountains, in Wyoming
and Montana, all of which may be easily reached by way of the Northern
Pacific road.
The best time of year to hunt for this, as well as all the other species
of large game in the Rocky Mountains, is in the months of September,
October, and November, though in the latter month the sportsman should
not venture high up into the mountains where heavy snow-falls are liable
to occur. There is a great deal of bear hunting done in the summer
months, but it is contrary to the laws of nature, and should not be
indulged in by any true sportsman. The skins are nearly worthless then,
while in the autumn they are prime; the heat is oppressive, and the
flies and mosquitoes are great pests.
The best arm for this class of game is a repeating rifle of large
calibre, 45 or 50, carrying a large charge of powder and a solid
bullet. The new Winchester express, 50/110, with solid ball, is perhaps
the best in the market, all things considered.
There are several methods of hunting the grizzly, the most common being
to kill an elk, and then watch the carcass. Shots may frequently be
obtained in this way early in the morning or late in the evening, and on
bright moonlight nights it is best to watch all night, for the immense
size of the grizzly renders him an easy target at short range even by
moonlight. Another method is to still-hunt him, the same as is done with
deer. This is perhaps the most sportsmanlike of all, and if a coulee or
creek bottom be selected where there are plenty of berries, or an open,
hilly, rocky country, where the bears are in the habit of hunting for
worms, or any good feeding-ground where bear signs are plentiful, and
due care and caution be exercised, there is as good a chance of success
as by any other method. Many hunters set guns with a cord running from
the trigger to a bait of fresh meat, and the muzzle of the gun pointing
at the meat; others set large steel traps or deadfalls. But such
contrivances are never used by true sportsmen.
Game of any kind should always be pursued in a fair, manly manner, and
given due chance to preserve its life if it is skillful enough to do so.
If captured, let it be by the superior skill, sagacity, or endurance of
the sportsman, not by traps which close on it as it innocently and
unsuspectingly seeks its food.
Grizzly bear hunting is unquestionably the grandest sport that our
continent affords. The grizzly is the only really dangerous game we
have, and the decidedly hazardous character of the sport is what gives
it its greatest zest, and renders it the most fascinating of pursuits.
Many sportsmen proclaim the superiority of their favorite pastime over
all other kinds, be it quail, grouse, or duck shooting, fox-chasing,
deer-stalking, or what not; and each has its charm, more or less
intense, according to its nature; but no man ever felt his heart swell
with pride, his nerves tingle with animation, his whole system glow with
wild, uncontrollable enthusiasm, at the bagging of any bird or small
animal, as does the man who stands over the prostrate form of a monster
grizzly that he has slain. Let the devotee of these other classes of
sport try bear hunting, and when he has bagged his first grizzly, then
let him talk!