One day in North Park, Colorado, I came on the carcass of a cow that
wolves had recently killed. Knowing that bears were about, I climbed
into the substantial top of a stocky pine near by, hoping that one
would come to feast. A grizzly came at sundown.
The carcass lay in a grassy opening surrounded by willow-clumps,
grassy spaces, and a sprinkling of low-growing, round-topped pines.
When about one hundred feet from the carcass, the bear stopped.
Standing erect, with his fore paws hanging loosely, he looked,
listened, and carefully examined the air with his nose. As the air was
not stirring, I felt that he had not, and probably would not, scent me
in the treetop perch.
After scouting for a minute or two with all his keen senses, he
dropped on all fours and slowly, without a sound, advanced toward the
carcass. He circled as he advanced; and, when within thirty feet of
the waiting feast, he redoubled his precautions against surprise and
ambush. My scent by the carcass probably had nothing to do with these
precautions. A grizzly is ever on guard and in places of possible
ambush is extremely cautious. He is not a coward; but he does not
propose to blunder into trouble.
Slipping cautiously to the edge of a thick willow-clump, he suddenly
flung himself into it with a fearful roar, then instantly leaped out
on the other side. Evidently he planned to start something if there
was anything to start.
Standing fully erect, tense at every point, he waited a moment in
ferocious attitude, ready to charge anything that might plunge from
the willows; but nothing started. After a brief pause he charged,
roaring, through another willow-clump. It was a satisfaction to know
that the tree-limb on which I sat was substantial. That a grizzly bear
cannot climb a tree is a fact in natural history which gave me immense
satisfaction. Every willow-clump near the carcass was charged, with a
roar.
Not finding an enemy, he at last went to the carcass. After feasting
for a few minutes he rose and snarled. Then, sniffing along my trail a
few yards, he stopped to mutter a few growling threats and returned to
the feast.
After eating contentedly and to his satisfaction, he moved round the
carcass, raking and scraping grass and trash on it. Then, pausing for
a minute or two in apparently peaceful contemplation, he doubled back
on the trail over which he had come and faded into the twilight.
Alertness and brain-power are characteristics of the grizzly bear. He
is eternally vigilant. He has the genius for taking pains. He is
watchful even in seclusion; and when he is traveling his amazingly
developed senses appear never to rest, but are constantly on scout and
sentinel duty,--except on rare occasions when he is temporarily
hypnotized by curiosity. I believe his intelligence to be greater than
that of the dog, the horse, or the elephant. Apparently he assumes
that some one is ever stealthily in pursuit.
In repeatedly following the grizzly with photographic intentions I was
almost invariably outwitted. On one occasion I followed one almost
constantly for eight days and nights; and though many times I almost
had him, yet I never succeeded. Now and then he climbed a rocky crag
to look about; or he doubled back a short distance on his trail to
some point of vantage, where he rose on his hind legs, sniffed the
air, looked and listened. At other times he turned at right angles to
his general course, went a short distance to a point favorable for
seeing, hearing, or smelling his possible pursuer, and there remained
for a few minutes. If all seemed well, he commonly returned to his
trail and again went forward.
Usually he traveled in the face of the wind; commonly he promptly
changed his course if the wind changed. In crossing a grassy opening
in the woods he sometimes went boldly across; but on the farther side,
concealed by the trees, he waited to see whether a pursuer appeared
across the opening. Sometimes he went round an opening to the right or
to the left. Apparently there lay a plan behind his every move.
The third day he was well started diagonally down the wall of a cañon.
I naturally concluded that he would on this course descend to the
bottom and there continue down-stream. Instead of doing this, he
stopped at a point about midway down for a long stay. Then from this
place he pointed his nose up-stream and descended diagonally to the
bottom of the cañon. At the bottom he again made an acute angle to
ascend to the top of the opposite wall.
The last three days of this pursuit he knew that I was following him,
but there seemed to be no change in his tactics. He simply moved a
little more rapidly. Though well acquainted with grizzly habits, I was
unable to anticipate his next important move, and he defeated every
plan I put into operation.
For several years an outlaw or cattle-killing grizzly terrorized an
extensive cattle-grazing section in the mountains of Utah. For months
at a stretch he killed a cow or steer at least every other day. He
would make a kill one day and on the next would appear across the
mountains, forty or more miles away.
Organized expeditions, made up of from thirty to fifty men, with packs
of dogs, pursued him day and night for a week or longer; but each time
he escaped. Large rewards were offered for his capture. Old trappers
and hunters came from afar, but after weeks of trial gave up the
pursuit.
The grizzly has a well-developed bump of curiosity. This sometimes
betrays him into forgetfulness. On a few occasions I have come on
one--and twice one unwittingly came close to me--while he was intent
on solving something that had awakened that curiosity.
Once, while watching a forest fire, I climbed a mountain to a point
above the tree-line in order to reach a safe and commanding spot from
which to view the flames on a near-by slope. At the summit I came upon
a grizzly within a few yards of me. He was squatting on his haunches
like a dog, and was intently watching the fire-fount below. A deep
roar at one place, high-leaping flames at another, a vast smoke-cloud
at another,--each in turn caught his attention. None of his keen
senses warned him of my presence, though I stood near him for two or
three minutes. When I yelled at him he slowly turned his head and
stared at me in a half-dazed manner. Then he angrily showed his teeth
for a second or two, and finally--much to my relief--fled like a
frightened rabbit.
On another occasion I saw a grizzly on the opposite side of a narrow
cañon, with his fore paws on a boulder, watching with the greatest
interest the actions of a fisherman on the bank of the stream below.
Every cast of the fly was followed by the head of the bear. The
pulling-up of a trout caused him almost excited interest. For some
minutes he concentrated all his faculties on the fisherman; but
suddenly, with no apparent reason that I could discern, he came to his
senses and broke away in a most frightened manner, apparently
condemning himself for briefly relapsing into dullness.
Two pet grizzlies that I raised always showed marked curiosity. An
unusual sound near by or a glimpse of some distant object brought them
to tiptoe height, roused their complete attention, and held it until
the mystery was solved.
The grizzly is not ferocious. On the contrary, he uses his wits to
keep far away from man. He will not make a wanton attack. He will
fight in self-defense; or if surprised, and thinking himself cornered,
he at once becomes the aggressor. If a mother grizzly feels that her
cubs are in danger, she will face any danger for their defense; but
the grizzly does not fight unless he thinks a fight cannot be avoided.
He is a masterful fighter. He has strength, endurance, powerful jaws,
deadly claws, courage, and brains. Before the white man and the
repeating rifle came, he boldly wandered over his domain as absolute
master; there was nothing to fear,--not a single aggressive foe
existed. I doubt whether toward man the grizzly was ever ferociously
aggressive.
That he has changed on account of contact with the white man and the
repeating rifle there can be no doubt. Formerly the rightful monarch
of the wilds through capability, he roamed freely about, indifferent
as to where he went or whether he was seen. He feared no foe and knew
no master. The bow and arrow, and the spear, he held in contempt; for
the powerful repeating rifle he has a profound respect. He has been
wise to adjust himself to this influential factor of environment or
evolutionary force. He has thus become less inquisitive and
aggressive, and more retiring and wary. He has learned to keep out of
sight and out of man's way.
A grizzly acts so promptly in emergencies that he has often been
misunderstood. He fights because he thinks he has to, not because he
wants to.
On one occasion in Wyoming I was running down a mountain-side, leaping
fallen fire-killed timber. In the midst of this I surprised a grizzly
by landing within a few feet of him. He leaped to his feet and struck
at me with sufficient force to have almost cut me in two had the blow
landed. Then he instantly fled.
On other occasions I have seen grizzlies surprised, when, though not
cornered, they thought they were and instantly commenced a fierce and
effective fight. Dogs, horses, and men were charged in rapid
succession and either knocked down or put to flight; yet in these
fights he was not the aggressor. He does not belong to the criminal
class.
Almost every one is interested in bears; children, the tenderfeet, and
Westerners are always glad to have a good bear story. Countless
thousands of bear stories have been written,--and generally written by
people unacquainted with the character of grizzly bears. Most of these
stories are founded on one or another of three fundamental errors. One
of these is that the grizzly has a bad temper,--"as cross as a bear"
is an exceedingly common expression; another is that bears are
ferocious, watchful, and aggressive, always ready to make an attack or
to do wanton killing; and the third is that it is almost impossible to
kill him. After a desperate fight--in the story--the grizzly at last
succumbs, but not, as a rule, until his body is numerously perforated
or changed into a lead mine. As a matter of fact, a shot in the brain,
in the upper part of the heart, or properly placed in the spine
instantly ends the life of a grizzly. Most hunters when facing a
grizzly do not shoot accurately.
One day I saw three men fire from twelve to sixteen shots at a small
grizzly bear on a mountain-side only a short distance away. That
evening these men sincerely asserted that he must have weighed at
least a ton--when he probably did not weigh more than five hundred
pounds--and that though they shot him full of lead, he refused to die.
I doubt whether a single one of their shots hit the grizzly. Most of
the shots went wild, and some of them hit a rocky cliff about two
hundred yards distant and fifty or sixty feet higher than the bear. At
another time I saw a hunter kill four huge grizzly bears with just
four successive shots. Of course he knew the vital point at which to
aim, was a good shot, and had perfect self-control during the few
seconds of shooting.
As a rule, the grizzly does not kill cattle or big game. There were
buffalo-killing grizzlies, and an occasional one now kills cattle.
These killers commonly slay right and left, often killing a dozen head
in a short time, but they do not often kill big game. I have a number
of times seen elk, deer, and mountain sheep feeding near a grizzly
without showing the slightest concern.
The grizzly is an omnivorous feeder. He will eat anything that is
edible,--fresh meat or carrion, bark, grass, grasshoppers, ants,
fruit, grubs, and leaves. He is fond of honey and with it will consume
rotten wood, trash, and bees,--stings and all. He is a destroyer of
many pests that afflict man, and in the realm of economic biology
should be rated high for work in this connection. I doubt whether any
dozen cats, hawks, or owls annually catch as many mice as he. But in
some localities the grizzly is almost a vegetarian. In western Montana
and in the southern Selkirks of Canada he lives almost exclusively on
plants and plant-roots, together with berries and bark.
All grizzlies are fond of fish and in some sections they become
successful fishermen. Sometimes they capture fish by wading along a
brook, and catching, with claws or teeth, the fish that conceal
themselves beneath banks or roots. Commonly the bear makes a stand in
driftwood on a bank, or on a log that has fallen into or across a
stream. From this stand he knocks fish entirely out of the water with
a lightning-like stroke of his paw. The bears that range along the
water-sheds of the Columbia and its tributaries feed largely on fish,
mostly salmon.
I saw a grizzly make a stand in the ripple of an Idaho stream, where
he was partly concealed by a willow-clump. In about half an hour he
knocked five large salmon out of the water. With a single stroke of
his fore paw each fish was flung on the shore, fifteen or twenty feet
away. He made only one miss. These salmon weighed between five and
twenty pounds each.
One autumn day, along the timber-line in the Rocky Mountains, wild
folk were feeding on the last of the season's berries. Birds were
present in such numbers that it appeared like a cosmopolitan bird
picnic. There were flocks of grouse and robins, numerous jays and
camp-birds; and noisiest and liveliest of all were the Clarke crows. I
watched the scene from the top of a tall spruce. This annual autumn
feast is common to both bears and birds. In this region, and in the
heights above, the bears sometimes fatten themselves before retiring
for their long winter's sleep.
While I was up in the tree, out of the woods below a mother grizzly
and her two cubs ambled into an opening and made their way slowly up
the slope toward me. Mother Grizzly stopped near my tree to dig out
some mice. Just after this operation she evidently caught a faint
scent of me and instantly stood on tiptoe, all concentration.
Motionless as a statue, she looked, listened, and gathered information
with her nostrils; but just one whiff of danger was all that came to
her through the calm air.
Presently she relaxed and stood for a moment on all fours before
moving on. One of the cubs concluded to suckle. Either this violated
an ancient grizzly custom or else it was something that in the face of
danger was too thoughtless to be excused; at all events the mother
knocked the cub headlong with a side swing of her left fore paw. He
landed heavily some yards away and tumbled heels over head. The
instant he rolled on his feet he sniffed the earth eagerly, as though
a remarkable discovery had been made; and immediately he started to
dig rapidly with his fore paws, as if some good thing were buried just
beneath. He may have been only pretending, however. Without uncovering
a thing, he presently raced forward to overtake Mother Grizzly.
The hibernating habits of the grizzly are not completely understood.
The custom probably originated, as did the hibernation of other
animals, from the scarcity of food. In a long acquaintance with the
grizzly my study of his hibernation has brought scanty returns, though
all that I have actually seen has been of the greatest interest.
The grizzly hibernates each winter,--"dens up" from three to four
months. The length of time is determined apparently by latitude and
altitude, by the snow-fall, weather conditions,--whether severe or
mild,--and the length of the winter; and perhaps, also, by the
peculiarities or the condition of the individual animal. Commonly he
hibernates in high altitudes, many going to sleep near or above the
timber-line.
The place where he hibernates preferably is a natural cave or a large
opening beneath rocks. If completely sheltered in a cave, he is
commonly satisfied to lie on bare rocks, with nothing over him. In
other places, where the snow might come in contact with him, he
commonly crawls beneath a huge pile of trash, leaves, sticks, and
roots. Snow had drifted deeply over each hibernating-place I have
found.
That his winter-sleep is more or less restless is shown in the spring
by his hairless hips and sides, the hair having been worn off during
the winter. This probably is due to frequent turnings from side to
side.
He is generally fat when he turns in for his winter's sleep; but
usually he does not eat anything for a few days before going in. On
the few occasions on which I was able to keep track of a bear for
several days before he went to sleep he did not eat a single thing
during the four or five days that immediately preceded retiring. I
have examined a number of grizzlies that were killed while
hibernating, and in every instance the stomach and intestines were
entirely empty and clean. These facts lead me to think that bears do
not eat just before hibernating.
Nor do they at once eat heartily on emerging. The instances in which I
was able to watch them for the first few days after they emerged from
winter quarters showed each time almost a fast. Those observed ate
only a few ounces of food during the four or five days immediately
after emerging. Each drank a little water. The first thing each ate
was a few willow-twigs. Apparently they do not eat heartily until a
number of days elapse.
On one occasion I carefully watched a grizzly for six days after he
emerged from his hibernating-cave. His winter quarters were at
timber-line on Battle Mountain, at an altitude of nearly twelve
thousand feet. The winter had been of average temperature but scanty
snow-fall. I saw him, by chance, just as he was emerging. It was the
first day of March. I watched him with a field-glass. He walked about
aimlessly for an hour or more, then returned to his sleeping-place
without eating or drinking anything.
The following morning he came forth and wandered about until
afternoon; then he broke his fast with a mouthful of willow-twigs.
Soon after eating these he took a drink of water. After this he walked
leisurely about until nearly sundown, then made himself a nest at the
foot of a cliff in the woods. Here he remained until late the
following afternoon, apparently sleeping. Just before sundown he
walked out a short distance, smelled of a number of things, licked the
snow a few times, and then returned to his nest.
The next morning he went early for a drink of water and ate more
willow-twigs. In the afternoon of this day he came on a dead
bird,--apparently a junco,--which he ate. Another drink, and he lay
down at the foot of a tree for the night. The next morning he drank
freely of water, surprised a rabbit, which he entirely devoured, and
then lay down and probably slept until noon the following day. On this
day he found a dead grouse, and toward evening he caught another
rabbit.
The following day he started off with more spirit than on any of the
preceding ones. Evidently he was hungry, and he covered more distance
that day than in all those preceding. He caught another rabbit,
apparently picked up three or four dead birds, and captured a mouse or
two.
Grizzlies are born about midwinter, while the mother is in the
hibernating-cave. The number at birth is commonly two, though
sometimes there is only one, and occasionally there are as many as
four. The period between births is usually two years. Generally the
young bears run with their mother a year and sleep in the cave with
her the winter after their birth.
At the time of birth the grizzly is a small, blind, almost hairless,
ugly little fellow, about the size of a chipmunk. Rarely does he weigh
more than one pound! During the first two months he grows but little.
When the mother emerges from the cave the cubs are often no larger
than cottontail rabbits; but from the time of emergence their
appetites increase and their development is very rapid.
They are exceedingly bright and playful youngsters. I have never seen
a collie that learned so easily or took training so readily as
grizzly bear cubs. My experience, however, is confined to five cubs.
The loyalty of a dog to his master is in every respect equaled by the
loyalty of a grizzly cub to his master. A grizzly, young or old, is an
exceedingly sensitive animal. He is what may be called high-strung. He
does unto you as you do unto him. If you are invariably kind, gentle,
and playful, he always responds in the same manner; but tease him, and
he resents it. Punish him or treat him unfairly, and he will become
permanently cross and even cruel.
Grizzly bears show great variations in color. Two grizzlies of a like
shade are not common, unless they are aged ones that have become
grizzled and whitish. Among their colors are almost jet black, dark
brown, buff, cinnamon, gray, whitish, cream, and golden yellow. I have
no way of accounting for the irregularity of color. This variation
commonly shows in the same litter of cubs; in fact it is the exception
and not the rule for cubs of the same litter to be of one color. In
the Bitter Root Mountains, Montana, I saw four cubs and their mother
all five of which were of different colors.
The color of the grizzly has been and still is the source of much
confusion among hunters and others who think all grizzlies are
grayish. Other names besides grizzly are frequently used in
descriptions of this animal. Such names as silver-tip, baldface,
cinnamon, and range bear are quite common. Within the bounds of the
United States there are just two kinds of bears,--the grizzly and the
black; these, of course, show a number of local variations, and five
subspecies, or races, of the grizzly are recognized. Formerly he
ranged over all the western part of North America.
The great Alaskan bears are closely allied to the grizzly, but the
grizzly that is found in the United States is smaller than most people
imagine. Though a few have been killed that weighed a thousand pounds
or a trifle more, the majority of grizzlies weigh less than seven
hundred pounds. Most of the grizzly's movements appear lumbering and
awkward; but, despite appearances, the grizzly is a swift runner. He
is agile, strikes like lightning with his fore paws, and, when
fighting in close quarters, is anything but slow. The life of a
grizzly appears to be from fifteen to forty years.
In only a few localities is there any close season to protect him.
Outside the National Parks and a few game preserves he is without
refuge from the hunter throughout the year. It is not surprising that
over the greater portion of his old territory he rarely is seen. He
is, indeed, rapidly verging on extermination. The lion and the tiger
are often rapacious, cruel, sneaking, bloodthirsty, and cowardly, and
it may be better for other wild folk if they are exterminated; but the
grizzly deserves a better fate. He is an animal of high type; and for
strength, mentality, alertness, prowess, superiority, and sheer force
of character he is the king of the wilderness. It is unfortunate that
the Fates have conspired to end the reign of this royal monarch. How
dull will be the forest primeval without the grizzly bear! Much of the
spell of the wilderness will be gone.