BEAR HUNT OF 1842.
One day in winter my brother-in-law, Reuben Crandell, and myself started
to go hunting deer, as we supposed. We went south across the windfall,
started a flock of deer and were following them. We had a good tracking
snow and thought it was a good day for hunting. We followed the deer
south across Reed Creek and saw a little ahead of us quite a path. It
appeared as though a herd of ponies had passed along there. (Then there
were plenty of French ponies running in the woods.) When we came up to
the trail or path, that we saw they had made, in the snow we discovered
it was four bears which had made the path. They had passed along a little
time before for their tracks were fresh and new. There seemed to be a
grand chance for us and we started after them. We either walked very fast
or ran, sometimes as fast as we could stand it to run.
In this way we had followed them several miles and expected to see them
every minute. We were going a little slower when I looked one side of us
and there was an Indian, on a trot, going in the same direction that we
were. I told Crandell that he had seen our tracks and knew that we were
after the bears and that he was trying to cut us off and get the bears
away from us. Just then I saw the bears and drew up my rifle and shot at
one, as he was standing on an old log. The Indian then turned and ran up
to the bear tracks to see, probably, if I had killed one. I told Crandell
to go on with him and not let him get the start of us and I would load my
rifle, as quickly as possible, and follow.
Being in a hurry, I did not place my bullet right on the patch, in the
muzzle of the rifle and it bothered me in getting down. When it was
loaded, I broke for them. I could just see Crandell putting in the best
he could and trying to make two-forty time; but he was alone the Indian
had left him. Then there might have been seen some long steps and tall
running done by me, in those woods, (if any one had been there to
witness it) for about eighty rods. When I came up with Crandell I asked
him where the Indian was; he said, "Yonder he goes almost out of sight."
I asked him what he let him get ahead for; he said that he could not
keep up with him, and that he had told him, two or three times, to stop
and wait for me, but he would not pay the least attention to what he
said. I told him to keep on the tracks as fast as he could, and I would
try to stop the Indian.
I saw that the four bears' tracks were all together yet, and Crandell
said I didn't hit one when I shot. I thought it was singular and that
perhaps my bullet had struck a bush or twig, glanced off and saved Mr.
Bruin's hide. Now it looked as though the Indian was going to get our
bears away from us, sure enough, and now for a chase that is more
excitable than is often seen in the woods.
The Indian was on a good lope after the bears and I on a good run after
him. I had the advantage of the Indian, the bears would run crooked.
Sometimes they would run on a large log and follow it its whole length
right in another direction from the way they had been going. The Indian
had to follow their tracks; I followed him by sight and cut off the
crooks as much as I could. In this way I ran at least half a mile after
leaving Crandell and was cutting off and gaining on the Indian fast, and
had got near enough to have hallooed at him and told him to stop. But I
though that would do no good, that it was necessary for me to overtake
him, and I was bound to stop him. I had got up to within fifteen rods and
as good luck would have it, the bears turned from an easterly course
around to the northwest. The Indian turned also and I struck across the
elbow and came to the tracks ahead of him. I stood facing him when he
came up and informed him that the bears were ours. I told him that he
should not follow them another step, and to wait, right where he was,
until the other man came up. I am sure the Indian thought the white man
had outrun him and maybe he did not think how it was done. He stood there
perfectly still, and I guard over him. I thought he looked ugly and mad;
he would hardly say a word. In two or three minutes Crandell came up,
puffing-and blowing like a porpoise. The sweat was running off him in
profusion, and while wiping it from his brow with his hands, he said to
the Indian: "You would not stop when I told you to, if I had got a good
sight of you I would have shot you." Of course Crandell only said this
because he wanted to scare the Indian as he had no thought of shooting,
or hurting him in the least.
We started slowly off on the bear tracks and left the Indian standing and
looking at us. I told Crandell I thought the Indian was scared and very
mad at us for his threatening to shoot him, and my stopping him; that if
he got us both in range, it might be possible he would shoot us. I told
him to walk at least a rod one side of me so as not to get both in range
of his rifle and I thought he would not dare to disturb us. As we walked
away I would once in a while turn an eye over my shoulder and look back
to see the Indian. He stood there like a statue until we were out of
sight and I never saw that Indian again.
As soon as we were fairly out of sight of him we walked fast and finally
tried running, some of the time as long as we could stand it. One of the
bears was large, another about the common size and two were small; the
small ones followed behind. They were a fine sight passing through the
woods, but they led us a wild chase. Late in the afternoon they crossed
the Reed Creek going north, partly in the direction of father's home.
Crandell said, "Now I know where we are. I can follow up the creek until
I get to the Reed house and then take the path home. I am so tired I
cannot follow the bears another step." So he sat down to rest. I told him
to come on, it was necessary for us to have two or three of those bears
and I thought if we could kill one of the large ones the small ones would
be likely to hang around until we could shoot them. But I could not get
him to go another step. He said he was going home and I told him I was
going to follow the bears. I went after them as fast as it was possible,
and after awhile came in plain sight of them. The large one was standing
with his fore feet upon a log, broadside to me and looking back at me. I
thought Crandell would see how much he missed it leaving me. I drew up my
rifle and fired, "ping went the rifle ball" and it made the woods ring,
but away went the bears. I expected to see the bear drop, or at least
roll and tumble. I loaded my rifle and went up to where Mr. Bruin had
stood. I looked to see if I had not cut off some of his hair, but could
see no signs of having touched him with the bullet. I followed along a
little ways and made up my mind I had not hit him. I thought it strange;
it was a fair broadside shot, not more than twenty or twenty-five rods
off, and what the reason was I had missed him I could not tell. I
followed them on, very much discouraged and miserably tired, after a
little they were making almost straight for father's clearing. I followed
them into the windfall within half a mile of home. It was then about
sundown and as their tracks turned off I thought I would leave following
them until next morning, and would then start after them again.
As I came in sight of our clearing I thought, as usual, I would fire off
my rifle at a mark, which was on the side of a tree, about ten rods off;
I drew it up and shot. My parents knew by the report and sharp song of my
rifle that I was coming; it was my parting salute to the forest. As the
sound of it penetrated the lonely gloom and died away in the darkness of
the woods I looked at the mark on the tree, to see where my bullet had
struck. I had shot nearly a foot right over it. Then I looked at the
sight of my rifle and found that the back sight had been raised clear up.
Strange to say, I had not noticed it before. No doubt it was done by one
of my little sisters or John S. They must have taken it down and been
fooling with it, on the sly. Then I knew the reason of my bad luck. I
think a more tired and discouraged hunter than I was, never crawled out
of the woods. With my, hitherto, trusty companion I had met with a signal
defeat. I had carried it hundreds of miles on my shoulder and was not
afraid, with it, to face anything in the woods, day or night; but this
time it failed me and the bears escaped.
The report of my rifle, that evening, seemed changed as if the very sound
told of my bad luck. I made up my mind, as I went into the house, that
the next morning; we would raise as many men and as many dogs as there
were bears and try them again. Of course I was too tired to notify any
one that night myself, so John S. went down to Mr. Purdy's. I knew he had
a large dog, which he called Watch, that was not afraid to tackle
anything that ran in the woods, on four legs. I told J.S. to tell Mr.
Purdy that I had been following a pack of bears, and that I wanted him to
come early the next morning, and be sure and bring his dog to go with me
after them. We had a good dog, and I sent Crandell word to be ready with
his dog. James Wilson volunteered to go with us and take his dog; they
were to be on hand at daylight in the morning. After we got together
ready to start after the bears I told them that I thought the dogs would
at least tree the small bears. We all started for the bear tracks. We
took my back tracks; when we got to the tree I showed them the shot I
had made the night before, and told them the reason I was not able to
take one, or more, of those bears by the heels the day before, and then I
might have examined them at my leisure.
We followed my tracks until we found where I left the bear tracks, then
we followed them. T supposed they were so tired they would lie down and
rest, probably in the windfall. But they were too badly scared for that.
They seemed to have traveled all night. We followed them across the north
part of the town of Taylor, through-the oak openings, into what we called
the west woods and into the town of Romulus. They had given us a wide
range before we came up to them, but here in a swamp or swale, between
two sand ridges, we found them. They saw us first and ran. As soon as we
saw we had started them we let the dogs go. They started with a rush.
"And then the dogs the game espy;
An ill bred and uncivil pack;
And such a wild discordant cry!
Another fury on his back!"
--_Bishop_.
We could hear them yelp, yelp, yelp, while they were on the tracks and
heard them when they came up to the bears. Then there was a wonderful
confusion of voices. We could hear our dogs and they seemed to be
struggling hard for their lives. "Bow-wow, bow, bowwow, yelp, yelp, yelp,
tii, tii, tii."
When the dogs got to the bears we were about half a mile from them. We
hurried through the brush and over the logs, as fast as possible, to help
our canine friends for we supposed that they were in a life and death
struggle. It is now my opinion that there never was such a noise and
conflict in those woods before, nor since, at least heard by white men.
When we were about half way to where the battle raged most furiously, it
was all at once still; we could not hear a sound from them any more. We
went a little farther and met old Watch, and some of the other dogs
crawling back. Watch, by his wounds, gave a good report of his courage
himself. He was bleeding; had been wounded and torn badly. He was hurt
the worst of any of the dogs. Before we reached the battle ground we met
the last one; he was not hurt at all, he had kept a proper distance. But
they were all badly whipped or scared. They had got enough of the bears.
"Sir Bruin to his forest flew,
With heart as light as paws were fleet;
Nor further dare the curs pursue,
It was a 'masterly retreat.'"
--_Bishop._
When we got to the battle ground we could see where they had fought,
clenched and rolled over and over. The blood of the dogs was sprinkled
all around on the snow. We saw that it was the large bears which did the
fighting. They would not leave the small ones but fought for them. We saw
in one place, where the fight was the most severe, one bear had attempted
to climb a tree. He went up a piece on one side of it and down the other,
then jumped off, before we got in sight, and ran. We could see by the
marks of the claws, on the bark of the tree, and the tracks, where he
jumped oft, that he had climbed part way up.
I have seen hundreds of times in the woods where bears had reached up as
high as they could around little trees and scratched them. It showed the
plainest on beech trees as their bark is smooth. It is easy to see the
size of the bear's paws and his length from the ground by these marks on
the trees.
That day we saw where the bears had done some marking of dogs as well as
trees. We found that the dogs had separated the bears, some having gone
one way and some another. The grit had been taken out of us as well as
out of the dogs, and the bear hunt had lost its charms for us. We were a
long ways from home and we thought it best to get our wounded dogs back
there again, if we could. We gave up the chase and let those bears go. I
felt the effects of the previous day's chase and tired out more easily; I
wished I had let the Indian have the bears to do what he was a mind to
with, and that I had never seen them.
I presume there are now many persons in Wayne County, who little think
that thirty-three years ago, 1842, there could have been four wild bears
followed, in different towns in that county, for two days; yet such was
the case. This was about the last of my hunting. My attention was called
to other business, of more importance which I thought it was necessary
for me to attend to, so I hung up my rifle and have not used it to hunt
with, in the woods, six full days since. That Indian, who wanted the
bears, was the last Indian I ever saw in the woods hunting for a living.
I don't think there is a wild deer in the town of Dearborn at this day
and but very few, if any, in Wayne County. I heard that there was one
bear killed by a man, near the mouth of the Ecorse, last fall, 1874. He
was a stranger and, no doubt, far from his native home. He was the first
one I have heard of being seen in this country for years.