are distinctly marked by the difference in the canoes which the natives
use. In the southern part, where large trees are readily obtained, you
find large dugouts capable of holding from five to twenty persons. At
Yakutat, where the timber is much smaller, the canoes, although still
dugouts, have decreased proportionately in size, but from Yakutat
westward the timber line becomes lower and lower, until the western half
of the island of Kadiak is reached, where the trees disappear
altogether, and the dugout gives place to the skin canoe or baidarka. I
have never seen them east of Prince William Sound, but from this point
on to the west they are in universal use among the Aleuts--a most
interesting race of people, and a most wonderful boat.
The natives of Kadiak are locally called Aleuts, but the true Aleuts are
not found east of the Aleutian Islands. The cross between the Aleut and
white--principally Russian--is known as the "Creole."
The natives whom I met on the Kadiak Islands seemed to show traces of
Japanese descent, for they resembled these people both in size and
features. I found them of docile disposition, remarkable hunters and
weather prophets, and most expert in handling their wonderful canoes,
with which I always associate them.
The baidarka is made with a light frame of some strong elastic wood,
covered with seal or sea lion skin; not a nail is used in making the
frame, but all the various parts are tied firmly together with sinew or
stout twine. This allows a slight give, for the baidarka is expected to
yield to every wave, and in this lies its strength. There may be one,
two, or three round hatches, according to the size of the boat. In these
the occupants kneel, and, sitting on their heels, ply their
sharp-pointed paddles; all paddling at the same time on the same side,
and then all changing in unison to the other side at the will of the
bowman, who sets a rapid stroke. In rough water, kamlaykas--large shirts
made principally of stretched and dried bear gut--are worn, and these
are securely fastened around the hatches. In this way the Aleuts and the
interior of the baidarka remain perfectly dry, no matter how much the
sea breaks and passes over the skin deck.
I had used the baidarka the year before, having made a trip with my
hunters almost around the island of Afognak, and believed it to be an
ideal boat to hunt from. It is very speedy, easily paddled, floats low
in the water, will hold much camp gear, and, when well handled, is most
seaworthy. So it was my purpose this year to again use one in skirting
the shores of the deep bays, and in looking for bears, which show
themselves in the early spring upon the mountain sides, or roam the
beach in search of kelp.
The Kadiak bear finds no trouble in getting all the food he wants during
the berry season and during the run of the various kinds of salmon,
which lasts from June until October. At this period he fattens up, and
upon this fat he lives through his long winter sleep. When he wakes in
the spring he is weak and hardly able to move, so his first aim is to
recover the use of his legs. This he does by taking short walks when the
weather is pleasant, returning to his den every night. This light
exercise lasts for a week or so, when he sets out to feed upon the beach
kelp, which acts as a purge. He now lives upon roots, principally of the
salmon-berry bush, and later nibbles the young grass.
These carry him along until the salmon arrive, when he becomes
exclusively a fish eater until the berries are ripe. I have been told by
the natives that just before he goes into his den he eats berries only,
and his stomach is now so filled with fat that he really eats but
little.
The time when the bears go into their winter quarters depends upon the
severity of the season. Generally it is in early November, shortly
after the cold weather has set in. Most bears sleep uninterruptedly
until spring, but they are occasionally found wandering about in
mid-winter. My natives seemed to think that only those bears are
restless which have found uncomfortable quarters, and that they leave
their dens at this time of year solely for the purpose of finding better
ones. They generally choose for their dens caves high up on the mountain
sides among the rocks and in remote places where they are not likely to
be discovered. The same winter quarters are believed to be used year
after year.
The male, or bull bear, is the first to come out in the spring. As soon
as he recovers the use of his muscles he leaves his den for good and
wanders aimlessly about until he comes upon the track of some female. He
now persistently follows her, and it is at this time that the rutting
season of the Kadiak bear begins, the period lasting generally from the
middle of April until July.
In Eagle Harbor, on Kadiak Island, a native, three years ago, during the
month of January, saw a female bear which he killed near her den. He
then went into the cave and found two very small cubs whose eyes were
not yet open. This would lead to the belief that this species of bear
brings forth its young about the beginning of the new year. At birth the
cubs are very small, weighing but little more than a pound and a half,
and there are from one to four in a litter. Two, however, is the usual
number. The mother, although in a state of semi-torpor, suckles these
cubs in the den, and they remain with her all that year, hole up with
her the following winter, and continue to follow her until the second
fall, when they leave her and shift for themselves.
For many years these bears have been so persistently hunted by the
natives, who are constantly patrolling the shores in their skin canoes,
that their knowledge of man and their senses of smell and hearing are
developed to an extreme degree. They have, however, like most bears,
but indifferent sight. They range in color from a light tawny lion to a
very dark brown; in fact, I have seen some bears that were almost
black. Many people have asked me about their size, and how they compare
in this respect with other bears. The Kadiak bear is naturally extremely
large. His head is very massive, and he stands high at the shoulders.
This latter characteristic is emphasized by a thick tuft of hair which
stands erect on the dorsal ridge just over the shoulders. The largest
bear of this kind which I shot measured 8 feet in a straight line from
his nose to the end of the vertebrae, and stood 51-1/2 inches in a
straight line at the shoulders, not including between 6 and 7 inches of
hair.
Most people have an exaggerated idea of the number of bears on the
Kadiak Islands. Personally I believe that they are too few ever to make
shooting them popular. In fact, it was only by the hardest kind of
careful and constant work that I was finally successful in bagging my
first bear on Kadiak. When the salmon come it is not so difficult to get
a shot, but this lying in wait at night by a salmon stream cannot
compare with seeking out the game on the hills in the spring, and
stalking it in a sportsmanlike manner.
It was more than a week after our landing at Kadiak before the weather
permitted me to go to Afognak, where my old hunters lived, to make our
final preparations. One winter storm after another came in quick
succession, but we did not mind the delay, for we had come early and did
not expect the bears would leave their dens before April.
I decided to take with me on my hunt the same two natives whom I had had
the year before. My head man's name was Fedor Deerinhoff. He was about
forty years of age, and had been a noted sea otter and bear hunter. In
size he was rather larger than the average of his race, and absolutely
fearless. Many stories are told of his hand-to-hand encounters with
these big bears. I think the best one is of a time when he crawled into
a den on his hands and knees, and in the dark, and at close quarters,
shot three. He was unable to see, and the bears' heavy breathing was his
only guide in taking aim.
Nikolai Pycoon, my other native, was younger and shorter in stature, and
had also a great reputation as a hunter, which later I found was fully
justified, and furthermore was considered the best baidarka man of
Afognak. He was a nice little fellow, always good natured, always keen,
always willing, and the only native whom I have ever met with a true
sense of gratitude.
The year before I had made all arrangements to hire for this season a
small schooner, which was to take us to our various shooting grounds. I
was now much disappointed to find that the owner of this schooner had
decided not to charter her. We were, therefore, obliged to engage a very
indifferent sloop, but she was fortunately an excellent sea boat. Her
owner, Charles Payjaman, a Russian, went with us as my friend's
hunter. He was a fisherman and a trapper by profession, and had the
reputation of knowing these dangerous island waters well. His knowledge
of Russian we expected to be of great use to us in dealing with the
natives; Alaska was under Russian control for so many years that that
language is the natural local tongue.
It was the first of April before we got our entire outfit together, and
it was not until four days later that the weather permitted us to hoist
our sail and start for the shooting grounds, of which it was of the
utmost importance that we should make good choice. All the natives
seemed to agree that Kiliuda Bay, some seventy-five miles below the town
of Kadiak, was the most likely place to find bear, and so we now headed
our boat in that direction. It was a most beautiful day for a start,
with the first faint traces of spring in the air. As we skirted the
shore that afternoon I sighted, through the glasses, on some low hills
in the distance, bear tracks in the snow. My Aleuts seemed to think that
the bears were probably near, having come down to the shore in search of
kelp. It promised a pretty fair chance for a shot, but there was
exceedingly bad water about, and no harbor for the sloop to lie, so
Payjaman and my natives advised me not to make the attempt. As one
should take no chances with Alaskan waters, I felt that this was wise,
and we reluctantly passed on.
The next forenoon we put into a large bay, Eagle Harbor, to pick up a
local hunter who was to accompany us to Kiliuda Bay, for both my Aleuts
and the Russian were unacquainted with this locality. Ignati
Chowischpack, the native whose services we secured, was quite a
character, a man of much importance among the Aleuts of this district,
and one who had a thorough knowledge of the country chosen as a hunting
ground.
We expected to remain at Eagle Harbor only part of the day, but
unfortunately were storm-bound here for a week. Several times we
attempted to leave, but each time had to put back, fearing that the
heavy seas we encountered outside would crush in the baidarka, which was
carried lashed to the sloop's deck. It was not until early on the
morning of April 12, just as the sun was topping the mountains, that we
finally reached Kiliuda Bay.
Our hunting grounds now stretched before us as far as the eye could
see. We had by this time passed the tree area, and it was only here and
there in isolated spots that stunted cottonwoods bordered the salmon
streams and scattered patches of alders dotted the mountain sides. In
many places the land rolled gradually back from the shore until the
mountain bases were reached, while in other parts giant cliffs rose
directly from the water's edge, but with the glasses one could generally
command a grand view of this great irregular bay, with its long arms
cutting into the island in all directions.
We made our permanent camp in a large barabara, a form of house so often
seen in western Alaska that it deserves a brief description. It is a
small, dome-shaped hut, with a frame generally made of driftwood, and
thatched with sods and the rank grass of the country. It has no windows,
but a large hole in the roof permits light to enter and serves also as
an outlet for the smoke from the fire, which is built on a rough hearth
in the middle of the barabara. These huts, their doors never locked,
offer shelter to anyone, and are frequently found in the most remote
places. The one which we now occupied was quite large, with ample space
to stow away our various belongings, and we made ourselves most
comfortable, while our Aleuts occupied the small banya, or Russian
bathhouse, which is also generally found by the side of the
barabara. This was to be the base of supplies from which my friend and I
were to hunt in different directions.
The morning after reaching our shooting grounds I started with one of my
natives and the local hunter in the baidarka to get the lay of the
land. Blake and I agreed that it was wise to divide up the country, both
because we could thus cover a much greater territory, and our modes of
hunting differed materially. Although at the time I believed from what I
had heard that Payjaman was an excellent man, I preferred to hunt in a
more careful manner, as is the native custom, in which I had had some
experience the year before. I firmly believe that had Payjaman hunted
as carefully as my Aleuts did, my friend would have been more
successful.
We spent our first day skirting the shores of the entire bay, paddling
up to its very head. Ignati pointed out to Fedor all the most likely
places, and explained the local eccentricities of the various winds--a
knowledge of these being of the first importance in bear hunting. I was
much pleased with the looks of the country, but at the same time was
disappointed to find that in the inner bays there was no trace of
spring, and that the snow lay deep even on the shores down to the high
water mark. Not a bear's track was to be seen, and it was evident that
we were on the grounds ahead of time.
We stopped for tea and lunch about noon at the head of the bay. Near by
a long and narrow arm of water extended inland some three miles, and it
was the country lying adjacent to this and to the head of the bay that I
decided to choose as my hunting grounds.
We had a hard time to reach camp that night, for a severe storm suddenly
burst upon us, and a fierce wind soon swept down from the hills, kicking
up a heavy sea which continually swept over the baidarka's deck, and
without kamlaykas on we surely should have swamped. It grew bitterly
cold, and a blinding snow storm made it impossible to see any distance
ahead, but Ignati knew these waters well, and safely, but half frozen,
we reached the main camp just at dark.
Next day the storm continued, and it was impossible to venture out. My
friend and I passed the time playing piquet, and listening to our
natives, who talked earnestly together, going over many of their strange
and thrilling hunting experiences. We understood but little Russian and
Aleut, yet their expressive gestures made it quite possible to catch the
drift of what was being said. It seemed that Ignati had had a brother
killed a few years ago, while bear hunting in the small bay which lies
between Eagle Harbor and Kiliuda Bay. The man came upon a bear, which
he shot and badly wounded. Accompanied by a friend he followed up the
blood trail, which led into a thick patch of alders. Suddenly he came
upon a large unwounded male bear which charged him unprovoked, and at
such close quarters that he was unable to defend himself. Before his
companion, who was but a short distance away, could reach him, he was
killed. The bear frightfully mangled the body, holding it down with his
feet and using his teeth to tear it apart.
Ignati at once started out to avenge his brother, and killed in quick
succession six bears, allowing their bodies to remain as a warning to
the other bears, not even removing their skins.
During the past few years three men while hunting have been killed by
bears in the same vicinity as Ignati's brother, two instantly, and one
living but a short time. I think it is from these accidents that the
natives in this region have a superstitious dread of a "long-tailed
bear" which they declare roams the hills between Eagle Harbor and
Kiliuda Bay.
The storm which began on the 13th continued until the 17th, and this was
but one of a series. Winter seemed to come back in all its fury, and I
believe that whatever bears had left their winter dens went back to them
for another sleep. It was not until the middle of May that the snow
began to disappear, and spring with its green grass came.
All this time I was camped with my natives at the head of the bay, some
fifteen miles from our base of supplies. On the 23d of April we first
sighted tracks, but it was not until May 15 that I finally succeeded in
bagging my first bear.
The tracks in the snow indicated that the bears began again to come out
of their winter dens the last week in April; and should one wish to make
a spring hunt on the Kadiak Islands, the first of May would, I should
judge, be a good time to arrive at the shooting grounds.
When the wind was favorable, our mode of hunting was to leave camp
before daylight, and paddle in our baidarka up to the head of one of
these long bays, and, leaving our canoe here, trudge over the snow to
some commanding elevation, where we constantly used the glasses upon the
surrounding hillsides, hoping to see bear. We generally returned to camp
a little before noon, but in the afternoon returned to the lookout,
where we remained until it was too dark to see.
When the wind was blowing into these valleys we did not hunt, for we
feared that whatever bears might be around would get our scent and
quickly leave. New bears might come, but none which had once scented us
would remain. For days at a time we were storm-bound, and unable to
hunt, or even leave our little tent, where frequently we were obliged to
remain under blankets both day and night to keep warm.
On May 15, by 4 o'clock, I had finished a hurried breakfast, and with my
two Aleuts had left in the baidarka for our daily watching place. This
was a large mound lying in the center of a valley, some three miles from
where we were camped. On the right of the mound rose a gently sloping
hill with its sides sparsely covered with alders, and at right angles
and before it, extended a rugged mountain ridge with rocky sides
stretching all across our front, while to the left rose another towering
mountain ridge with steep and broken sides. All the surrounding hills
and much of the low country were covered with deep snow. The mountains
on three sides completely hemmed in the valley, and their snowy slopes
gave us an excellent chance to distinguish all tracks. Such were the
grounds which I had been watching for over a month whenever the wind was
favorable.
The sun was just topping the long hill to our right as we reached our
elevated watching place. The glasses were at once in use, and soon an
exclamation from one of my natives told me that new tracks were
seen. There they were--two long unbroken lines leading down from the
mountain on our right, across the valley, and up and out of sight over
the ridge to our left. It seemed as if two bears had simply wandered
across our front, and crossed over the range of mountains into the bay
beyond.
As soon as my hunters saw these tracks they turned to me, and, with
every confidence, said: "I guess catch." Now, it must be remembered that
these tracks led completely over the mountains to our left, and it was
the most beautiful bit of hunting on the part of my natives to know that
these bears would turn and swing back into the valley ahead. To follow
the tracks, which were well up in the heart of our shooting grounds,
would give our wind to all the bears that might be lurking there, and
this my hunters knew perfectly well, yet they never hesitated for one
moment, but started ahead with every confidence.
We threaded our way through a mass of thick alders to the head of the
valley, and then climbing a steep mountain took our stand on a rocky
ridge which commanded a wide view ahead and to our left in the direction
in which the tracks led. We had only been in our new position half an
hour when Nikolai, my head hunter, gripped my arm and pointed high up on
the mountain in the direction in which we had been watching. There I
made out a small black speck, which to the naked eye appeared but a bit
of dark rock protruding through the snow. Taking the glasses I made out
a large bear slowly floundering ahead, and evidently coming
downward. His coat seemed very dark against the white background, and he
was unquestionably a bull of great size. Shortly after I had the
satisfaction of seeing a second bear, which the first was evidently
following. This was, without doubt, a female, by no means so large as
the first, and much lighter in color. The smaller bear was apparently
hungry, and it was interesting to watch her dig through the snow in
search of food. Soon she headed down the mountain side, paying
absolutely no attention to the big male, which slowly followed some
distance in the rear. Shortly she reached a rocky cliff which it seemed
impossible that such a clumsy animal could descend, and I almost
despaired of her making the attempt, but without a pause she wound in
and out, seemingly traversing the steepest and most difficult places in
the easiest manner, and headed for the valley below. When the bull
reached this cliff we lost sight of him; nor could we locate him again
with even the most careful use of the glasses. He had evidently chosen
this secure retreat to lie up in for the rest of the day. If I could
have killed the female without alarming him, and then waited on her
trail, I should undoubtedly have got another shot, as he followed her
after his rest.
It was 8 o'clock when we first located the bears, and for nearly three
hours I had a chance to watch one or both of them through powerful
glasses. The sun had come up clear and strong, melting the crust upon
the snow, so that as soon as the female bear reached the steep mountain
side her downward path was not an easy one. At each step she would sink
up to her belly, and at times would slip and fall, turning somersault
after somersault; now and again she would be buried in the snow so deep
that it seemed impossible for her to go either ahead or backward. Then
she would roll over on her back, and, loosening her hold on the steep
hillside, would come tumbling and slipping down, turning over and over,
sideways and endways, until she caught herself by spreading out all four
legs. In this way she came with each step and turn nearer and
nearer. Finally she reached an open patch on the hillside, where she
began to feed, digging up the roots of the salmon-berry bushes at the
edge of the snow. If now I lost sight of her for a short time, it was
very difficult to pick her up again even with the glasses, so perfectly
did the light tawny yellows and browns of her coat blend in with the
dead grass of the place on which she was feeding.
The wind had been blowing in our favor all the morning, and for once
continued true and steady. But how closely we watched the clouds, to
see that no change in its direction threatened us.
We waited until the bear had left the snow and was quietly feeding
before we made a move, and then we slowly worked ahead and downward,
taking up a new position on a small ridge which was well to leeward, but
still on the opposite side of the valley from the bear. She seemed in an
excellent position for a stalk, and had I been alone I should have tried
it. But the Aleut mode of hunting is to study the direction in which
your game is working, and then take up a position which it will
naturally approach.
Taking our stand, we waited, watching with much interest the great
ungainly creature as she kept nibbling the young grass and digging up
roots. At times she would seem to be heading in our direction, and then
again would turn and slowly feed away. Suddenly something seemed to
alarm her, for she made a dash of some fifty yards down the valley, and
then, seeming to recover her composure, began to feed again, all the
while working nearer and nearer. The bear was now well down in the
bottom of the valley, which was at this point covered with alders and
intersected by a small stream. There were open patches in the
underbrush, and it was my intention to shoot when she passed through one
of these, for the ground was covered with over a foot of snow, which
would offer a very tempting background.