Padre learned that at a place called Bear Valley near by, there were
many grizzlies which the Indians would not kill. He sent Spanish
soldiers there, and they shot so many bears that the hungry Mission
family had meat enough to last till a ship came from Mexico with
supplies.
Of all flesh-eating animals this grizzly bear is the largest and
strongest. He can knock down a bull with his great paws, or kill and
carry off a horse. He can live on wild berries and acorns with grass
and roots he digs out of the ground, yet fresh meat suits him best,
and he prefers a calf, which he holds as a cat does a mouse.
Nothing but stock was raised in California in those days so long
ago, and cattle were counted by the thousands and sheep by tens of
thousands. Then the grizzly and cinnamon, or brown, bear feasted all
the time on stray calves and yearlings. Every spring and fall the
cattle, which had roamed almost wild in the pastures, were "rounded
up" by the cowboys, or vaqueros. After the work of picking out each
ranchero's stock and branding the young cattle was over, the vaqueros
thought it fine fun to lasso a bear,--some old fellow, perhaps,
who had been helping himself to the calves. It is told that one big
cinnamon bear, while quietly feeding on acorns, looked up to find
three or four cow-boys on their ponies in a circle around him. They
spurred the trembling ponies as close to him as they dared, and yelled
at the tops of their voices. The great brute sat up on his haunches
and faced them, growling and snarling. One vaquero sent his rope
flying through the air, and the loop settled over a big, hairy fore
paw. Then the bear dropped on all fours and made a jump at the pony,
which got out of his reach. Another Mexican threw a lasso and caught
the bear's hind foot; and as he sat up again a third noose dropped
over the other fore paw. Then the poor trapped creature, growling,
snarling, and rolling over and over, began a tug of war with the
lariats and the ponies. Once a rope broke, and horse and rider tumbled
in front of the bear. He made a quick, savage jump, but was pulled
back by the other ropes. Then Mr. Bear sat up straight and tugged so
hard that another lariat broke and sent the saddle and rider over the
pony's head. With one sweep of his paw the bear smashed the saddle,
but the cow-boy saved himself by running to an oak tree. At last Mr.
Bear was getting the best of the fight so plainly, and had pulled the
frightened ponies so near him, that the man who was thrown off ended
the poor animal's struggles with a rifle-ball.
A Chinese sheep-herder tells this funny story about a bear: "Me lun
out, see what matta; me see sheep all bely much scared, bely much lun,
bely much jump. Big black bear jump over fence, come light for me. Me
so flighten me know nothin', then me scleam e-e-e-e so loud, and lun
at bear till bear get scared too and lun away."
A few grizzlies are still found in the Sierras, and black and brown
bears are often seen with their playful little cubs. The small
fellows are easily tamed and may be taught many tricks. They will live
contentedly in a bear-pit, or even if chained up, and as most of you
know, they like peanuts and pop-corn well enough to beg for them.
The panther, or mountain-lion, is another large flesh-eating animal
which makes his home in the thick woods conveniently neighboring the
farmers' corrals and pastures. Not long ago a boy in Marin County,
who was sent to look after some ponies, saw a big yellow dog, as he
thought, "worrying" one of the colts. When he came nearer he found
it was a wicked-looking, catlike creature, and knew it must be a
California lion. He had nothing with him but a heavy whip. The panther
left the wounded colt and crouched ready to spring at the boy, but he
was on the alert and struck it a terrible blow across the eyes with
his whip, and then another and another. Half-blinded and whining with
pain, the panther turned tail and ran away, while the boy's pony,
trembling and snorting with fright, galloped home with his brave
rider.
In one of the mountain counties a woman, hearing her chickens
squawking one day at noon, ran out to find what seemed a big dog among
them with a hen in his mouth. She rushed straight at him with a broom,
when the animal turned. She found it was a great panther, who snarled
and made ready to spring at her. As she screamed and started to run
away, her foot slipped on a steep and muddy place, and she slid down
the little hill right into the panther's face. He was so frightened
that he jumped the fence and hurried to the woods.
This great yellow cat is both savage and cowardly, and he has been
known to follow a man walking through the woods, all day, yet he
sneaked out of sight at every loud call the man gave. He chases deer
and gets many small and helpless fawns, hunters say.
Fur-hunting was once a profitable business for the Indians, who were
clothed in bear and panther skins when the first white men came to
California, and had many furs to trade or sell. The Indians trapped
otters, beavers, and minks, and the squaws tanned the deer-hides to
make buckskin shirts or leggings. Hunters and trappers still bring in
these wild animals' furry coats after trips to the high mountains or
untravelled woods, where the shy creatures try to live and be safe
from their enemies.
In early days herds of a very large deer, called elk, fed on the wild
oats and grass. These elk had wide, branching horns measuring three
or four feet from tip to tip. Only a few of them now survive in the
redwood forests in the northern counties. There were plenty of them
once where San Francisco now stands. Dana in his book called "Two
Years Before the Mast," tells us that when his ship dropped anchor off
the little village of Yerba Buena about sixty-seven years ago, he saw
hundreds of red deer and elk with their branching antlers. They were
running about on the hills, or standing still to look at the ship
until the noise frightened them off. At that time the whole country
was covered with thick trees and bushes where the wolf and coyote
prowled, and the grizzly bear's track was seen everywhere.
[Illustration: CALIFORNIA RED DEER. From a photograph by George V.
Robinson.]
There are plenty of deer in the redwoods now, and in the high
Sierras are black-tailed and large mule-deer. In the woods round Mount
Tamalpais timid red deer live, too. In winter, when it is cold and
snowy in the northern counties of our state, these deer often come
into the farmer's barnyard to nibble at the hay.
There are still left in the mountains among the pines and snowy cliffs
many mountain-sheep. These curious big-horned animals resemble both
the elk and the sheep, and it is said they can jump from a high rock
and land far below on their feet or heavy, twisted horns without being
hurt in the least.
Of all the great herds of graceful, fast-running antelope, once the
most plentiful of our wild animals, only a very few can now be found
on the eastern slopes of the Sierras.
But Master Coyote, who might well be spared, so cruel and cowardly is
he, still sneaks up and down the whole state, and his quick sharp bark
gives notice that the rascal is ready to steal a chicken or a lamb if
it is not protected. With his bushy tail and large head he is half fox
and half wolf in appearance, and mean enough in habits to be both. He
can outrun a dog and even a deer, and though he catches jack-rabbits
and the Molly Cottontail usually for food, he would help his brother,
the wolf, to kill a poor harmless sheep.
This gray wolf is a savage creature and hides in the thick forests by
day, slinking out at night to the nearest sheep corral or turkey-pen
if he can find one unwatched by some faithful dog. His friend and
neighbor, the fox, likes fat geese and chickens as well as birds,
squirrels, and wood-rats. The queer raccoon lives in the redwoods and
is often caught and kept in a cage or chained for a pet.
Wildcats, both gray and yellow, are found in the thickly timbered
parts of California, and the badger makes his home in the mountain
cañons or pine woods. There, too, the curious porcupine dwells. He is
covered with grayish white quills, which bristle out when he is angry
or frightened. No old dog will touch this animal, for he knows better
than to get a mouthful of sharp toothpicks by biting Mr. Porcupine,
who is like a round pincushion with the pins pointing out. A dog who
has never seen this prickly ball will dab at it, and have a sore paw
to nurse for weeks after.
Two or three kinds of tree-squirrels live in the pines and redwoods,
the Douglas squirrel being well known in the mountains. The ground
squirrel, or chipmunk, digs holes in the ground, where he hides his
winter's store of grain and nuts.
Three of our smaller wild animals are very common and very troublesome
to the farmer. The skunk, which looks like a pretty black and white
kitten with a bushy tail, and also the weasel, destroy all the
chickens and eggs they can reach, and they are so cunning that it is
hard to keep them out of the hen-house. That little pest, the gopher,
we are all well acquainted with, since he gnaws the pinks and roses
off at their roots in your city garden while his large family of
brothers and sisters kill the farmer's fruit-trees and vines. The
gopher digs long tunnels under ground, making storerooms here and
there in these passages, which he fills with grass, roots, and seeds.
In each cheek he has a pouch, or pocket, large enough to hold nearly a
handful of grain, so the little rascal carries his stores very easily.
The traps and poison by which the farmer is always trying to make way
with him, he is sly enough to let alone. His greatest foe is the
cat, which watches patiently at the hole where the destructive little
fellow is digging and usually catches him. A mother cat will sometimes
bring in two or three gophers a day to her kittens.
IN SALT WATER AND FRESH
Tom and Retta Ransom were two of the happiest children in the state,
I believe, when told that their summer vacation was to be spent at
Catalina Island. To see the wonderful fish that swim in those warm,
Southern waters, to watch them through the glass-bottomed boat, to
dip out funny sea-flowers with a net, or catch the pretty kingfish and
perhaps a "yellowtail,"--why, they could talk of nothing else!
How they skipped and danced and chattered about the trip! At
last Mamma said, "Well, everything is packed and ready, and we go
to-morrow." Then what fun it was to stand on the steamer's deck and
sail "right out through the Golden Gate," as Retta said. The big
green billows of the Pacific Ocean caught the boat as she crossed the
outside bar and tossed salt spray almost into their faces. Little the
children cared for the drops of water, for they were so glad to be
off on their trip and to say good-by to San Francisco's summer fog and
cold winds for a time.
And there on Seal Rocks, near the Cliff House, were the seals, or
rather sea-lions, clumsy creatures like black rubber sacks with
fins, or flippers, and a head. Some were lying in the sun and others
crawling up the steep, wet rocks. Those highest up were asleep and
quiet, but most of them kept barking or growling as they tried to find
a sunny place to bask in. Sometimes when frightened these sea-lions
will pitch headlong from high rocks into the ocean and dive out of
sight at once. Mrs. Ransom said she remembered seeing one that was
kept for years in a salt-water tank, and that, although they seem so
clumsy, this sea-lion jumped so quick that he caught a fish thrown to
him before it touched the water. Once fur-seals were in great numbers
off our coast, and lived on the rocks as these sea-lions now do. But
Indians, or later on white hunters, killed them, or drove them up
north where the crack of the rifle is not heard.
On to the south the steamer sailed through the foaming waters, and as
Tom stood watching the white-capped waves go dancing by, he saw, two
or three times, a black fin come up, and then another. At last a man
said, "Look at the porpoises playing." Tom screamed with delight as
they jumped and chased each other till their black, shiny backs were
clear out of water. These fish are sometimes called sea-hogs and are
five or six feet long. Either to get their food of small fish, or in
play, they keep swimming and diving near the tops of the breakers.
Fishermen catch them with a strong hook and use the thick, leathery
skin for straps or strings, while they try oil out of their blubber or
fat.
All that day and night the boat kept steadily on her way, and the next
morning they were in Santa Barbara Channel. It was so pleasant sailing
on this summer sea in the soft, warm sunshine that even the sea-sick
ladies felt better and came on deck. Mamma agreed with the children
that the steamer trip was much nicer than the hot, dusty cars. Just
then some one called, "See the whale," and looking quick Tom and Retta
saw what seemed a fountain of water rising high in the air about half
a mile away. Soon another went up, and two or three more, for the
gray hump-backed whales like this stretch of smooth bay. They are
warm-blooded animals and not fish at all, so they must come to the top
of the waves for air to breathe. The air and water spout out through
"blow-holes" on top of the whale's head, and rise like steam in the
colder air. The children's mother told them that the whale is the
largest of all animals, and that it lives on little jellyfish. It swims
with its great mouth wide open and catches all the tiny sea creatures
in its path. A fringe of whalebone hangs down from the roof of the
whale's mouth, and he strains the water out through this and swallows
the fish. As the boat went on, the children said, "There she blows,"
as the sailors do when they see whales spouting in the distance.
[Illustration: LEAPING TUNA.]
[Illustration: BLACK SEA BASS.]
Late that night the steamer got to San Pedro, and you may be sure Tom
and Retta were up early the next morning. As they came off the
boat, there was a crowd of people on the wharf who were pulling in
"yellow-tail" as fast as they dropped their lines. This fine fish is
a little like a big salmon, but with golden-yellow fins and tail. Its
body is greenish gray, with spots of the prettiest rainbow colors,
which grow brighter as the fish dies. These fish bite easily, but as
soon as caught begin to rush back and forth, fighting and trying to
snap the line.
The children here took a smaller steamer for the twenty-mile trip
across to Catalina Island, and on the way over they saw a whole
"school" of whales and a flight of flying-fishes. Yes, really and
truly, these little fish fly or sail through the air, for their fins
balance them like a parachute. They skim along ten or twelve feet
above the waves, and then drop in the water to rest, taking another
flight whenever their enemies, the porpoises, chase them.
How happy the children were to land at the little town of Avalon, and
to know that they were to have a month at this beautiful place! They
hurried down to the beach and their first choice of amusements was the
glass-bottomed boat. These boats have "water-telescopes," which are
only clear glass set in boxed-in places. The glass seems to make the
ripples still, so that you can look down, down to the bottom of the
ocean, twenty or thirty feet below you.
The boatman rowed the children out in the bay, where the water, now
green, now blue, was always clear as crystal. On the rocks and sand
at the bottom starfish and crabs crawled slowly along or clung to some
stone. The purple sea-urchins, queer round-shelled creatures covered
with thorny spines, crowded together, and the ugly toad-fish hid
in the green and brown seaweeds. Blue, purple, and rainbow-colored
jellyfish floated on top of the waters, while gold perch with red
and green sunfish swam through the seaweed "like parrots in some hot
country's woods," Retta thought. In the shallow places on the rocks
those curious sea-flowers, the anemones, looked like pink or green
cactus blossoms. The children never tired of the water-telescope in
all their stay at the island.
At night the warm ocean waters seemed on fire, since they are full
of very tiny, soft-bodied creatures, each of which gives out a faint,
glowing light. Every day the fishermen brought in new and strange
fishes. The black sea-bass, heavier than the fisherman himself and
longer than he was tall, were wonderful, and they could hardly believe
that such big fish were caught with a rod and line.
But the leaping tuna pleased Tom the most, since he thought it such
fun to watch them jump into the air like silver arrows after the
flying-fish. Not so large as the black bass, the tunas are strong
enough to tow a boat along when running with a hook. One will drag a
heavy launch through the water as if a tug had hold of it, and
will fight for hours, rushing and plunging till tired out. Then the
fisherman pulls him up to the boat and ends his struggles.
Tom and Retta were fond of watching the curious fish and sea-plants
in the glass aquarium tanks on shore also, but their happiest time was
when they gathered shells on the beach. They never found out the names
of more than those of the limpet, turban, and scallop, though they
picked up baskets full of tiny pink and white beauties, all frail and
of many kinds. These shells were once the homes of sea mollusks,
as such soft, fleshy creatures are called. But to Tom and Retta the
shells were only pretty playthings, to be doll's dishes, or cups, or
pincushions, perhaps.
One morning some fishermen saw a shark, and no one dared to go in
bathing for a few days. This great, savage, "man-eater" shark does not
often come north of the Gulf of California. Sometimes small ones are
caught with a hook and line off Catalina Island, and Tom was always
glad to see such sea-tigers destroyed.
Of course the children did not want to go home, till at last Mrs.
Ransom explained to them that in the ocean and bay near San Francisco
there were odd fish and strange animals too. And so it turned out, for
in a day's fishing over at Sausalito Tom caught many silver smelt and
tomcod, with flat, ugly flounders, and a red, big-eyed rock-cod. The
frightened boy almost fell out of the boat, too, when he pulled in a
large sting-ray, or "stingaree," as the boatman called it. This queer
three-sided fish, with a sharp, bony sting in its back, flopped round
till the man cut the hook out, knocked its head till it was no longer
able to bite, and threw it overboard. These rays have to be fenced out
of the oyster-beds along the bay, since they have big mouths full
of such strong teeth that they crush an oyster, shell and all, and
destroy every one they can reach.
Oysters are grown in great quantities in the oyster-beds along the bay
shore. The largest size, which are called "transplanted," are brought
from the East as very small or baby oysters and dropped into shallow
water, where they cling to rocks or brush-piles till grown.
Tom also caught a perch, and clinging to it as he drew in his line
was a large, hard-shelled, long-clawed crab. Tom put the crab in the
basket, knowing well what delicious white meat was in the fellow's
legs and back.
Clams that burrow deep in the mud and may be found at low tide,
by digging where their tell-tale bubble of air arises, and the odd
shrimps, so good to eat, the children already knew about. Chinese
fishermen catch shrimps in nets, dry them on the hillsides, and send
both dry meat and shells to China. They dry the meat of the abalone
also, and use the beautiful shells, which you have no doubt seen, for
carving into curios, or making into jewellery.
A salt-water creature very destructive to shipping and the wharves is
the teredo, or ship-worm. This brown inch-long worm lives in wood
that is always under water, such as the bottoms of ships and the round
piles you see at the wharves. He hollows or bores out winding tunnels
in the wood with the sharp edge of his shell until the piles crumble
to pieces. This small animal would finally destroy the largest wooden
ship if sheets of copper were not put on the sides and keel to protect
it.
When Retta saw Tom's basket of fish she said, "Well, I think the
fresh-water fishes much prettier. I am sure the rainbow and Dolly
Varden trout with their bright-colored spots, which we saw up in the
Truckee River and the mountain lakes last summer, were better to look
at and to eat than these sea monsters." Tom laughed and said, "Oh,
that was because you helped to catch some of those. Do you remember
the big black-spotted trout we saw in Lake Tahoe? And the little
speckled fellows we caught in that clear creek in the redwoods, and
how we wrapped them in wet paper and cooked them at our camp-fire?
I wish we could go up to the McCloud River, though, and see the baby
trout in the fish hatchery there."
So their mother told them that the tiny trout eggs were kept in
troughs with clear, cold water running over them till they hatched
out. Then the little things, not half as long as a pin, were placed in
large tin cans and sent to stock brooks and lakes, and in a year or so
they grew big enough to catch.
The most valuable of our food-fishes is the salmon, a large
silvery-sided salt-water fish that takes fresh-water journeys too.
For they swim up the rivers every year to lay their eggs in the clear,
cold streams, knowing, perhaps, that the salmon-fry, as the young are
called, will have fewer enemies away from the ocean. The salmon go
over a hundred miles up to the McCloud River to spawn, and will jump
or leap up small falls or rapids in their way. Indians spear many of
them, but a number go back to the ocean again. Thousands and thousands
of ocean salmon are caught along the northern coast and taken to
the canneries. There the fish are put into cans and cooked, and when
sealed up are sent all over the world. California salmon is eaten from
Iceland to India, and its preparation and sale give employment to many
people.
[Illustration: HUMPBACK WHALE (57 feet long).]
[Illustration: TROUT FROM LAKE TAHOE.]
ABOUT CALIFORNIA'S INDIANS
When the Spanish and English first landed on this part of the New
World's coast, they found the Indians who dwelt inland almost naked,
and living like wild animals on roots and seeds and acorns. The tribes
along the seashore, however, were good hunters and fishermen, and
those Indians along the Santa Barbara Channel and the islands near
by were a tall, fine-looking people, and the most intelligent of the
race. They had large houses and canoes, and clothed themselves in
sealskins.
The Indians Drake saw near Point Reyes had fur coats, or cloaks, but
no other clothes. They brought him presents of shell money or wampum,
and of feather head-dresses and baskets. With their bows and arrows
they killed fish or deer or squirrels, and being very strong ran
swiftly after game. They seemed gentle and peaceable with the white
men and each other, and were sorry to have Drake sail away.
In later years the Indians who lived here when the Mission Padres came
were stupid and brutish, because they knew nothing better. They were
lazy, dirty, and at first would not work. But the patient Padres
taught them to raise grain and fruit, to build their fine churches,
to weave cloth and blankets, and to tan leather for shoes, saddles,
or harness. But although the Indians learned to be good workmen,
they liked idleness, dancing, and feasting much better, and when the
Missions were given up the Indians soon went back to their former
habits.
There were no distinct tribes among these Indians, and they had no
laws. Nor was there a king or chief over many natives. They lived
in small villages or rancherias, each having a name and ruled by a
captain. Each rancheria had its special place to hunt or fish, and had
to fight its own battles with the other families of Indians.
The men did nothing but hunt and fish, or make bows, stone
arrow-heads, nets and traps for game. The women not only had to gather
grass seeds, acorns, and nuts or berries, but they had to do all the
field-work and carry the heavy burdens, usually with a baby strapped
in its basket above the load. In preparing food for cooking, these
mahalas, or squaws, put seed or acorns in a stone mortar and pounded
them to coarse meal or paste. Sometimes a grass-woven basket was
filled with water, and hot stones were thrown in till the water began
to boil. Then acorn or seed meal was put in and cooked into mush. This
meal, or that from wild oats, was also mixed into a dough and baked on
hot stones into bread. Game or fish was eaten raw, or broiled a little
on the coals of the camp-fire.