THE BLACK BEAR--COMEDIAN
A black bear came into a United States Survey camp one Sunday
afternoon while all the men were lounging about, and walked into the
cook’s tent. The cook was averse to bears; he tried to go through the
rear of the tent at a place where there was no door. The tent went
down on him and the bear. The bear, confused and not in the habit of
wearing a tent, made a lively show of it--a sea in a storm--as he
struggled to get out.
All were gathered round and watched the bear emerge from beneath the
tent and climb a tree. Out on the first large limb he walked. He
looked down on us somewhat puzzled and inclined to be playful.
This was at the Thumb in the Yellowstone National Park, in the summer
of 1891. I was the boy of the party. For some years I had been
interested in wild life, and while in the Park I used every
opportunity to study tree and animal life. I frequently climbed trees
to examine the fruit they bore, to learn about the insects that were
preying on them or the birds that were eating the insects. I was
naturally nicknamed the Tree Climber. There was now a unanimous call
for the Tree Climber to go up and get the bear down!
Of course no one wants to climb a tree when it is full of bears. But
at last I was persuaded to climb a tree near the one in which the bear
reposed and try to rout him out. He had climbed up rapidly head
foremost. He went down easily tail foremost. The instant he touched
the earth there was such a yelling and slapping of coats that for a
time the bear was confused as to whether he should fight or frolic. He
decided to climb again. But in his confusion he took the wrong tree.
He climbed up beneath me!
From long experience since that time I now realize that the bear
simply wanted to romp, for he was scarcely more than one year of age.
The black bear is neither ferocious nor dangerous. The most fitting
name I have ever heard given him is The Happy Hooligan of the Woods.
He is happy-go-lucky, and taking thought of the morrow is not one of
his troubles.
The most surprising pranks I ever saw were those of a pet cub. During
one of my rambles in the mountains of Colorado I came to the cabin of
an eccentric prospector who always had some kind of a pet. On this
occasion it was a black bear cub. The cub was so attached to the place
that unchained he stayed or played near by all day while his master
was away at work.
With moccasined feet I approached the cabin quietly, and the first
knowledge I had of the cub was his spying my approach from behind a
tree in the rear of the cabin. He was standing erect, with his body
concealed behind the tree; only a small bit of his head and an eye
were visible. As I approached him he moved round, keeping the tree
between us.
Finally he climbed up several feet; and as I edged round he sidled
about like a squirrel, and though always peeking at me, kept his body
well concealed on the opposite side of the tree. On my going to the
front of the cabin he descended; and when I glanced round the front
corner to see him, he was peeking round the rear corner at me.
As I had kept up a lively, pleasant conversation all this time, he
evidently concluded that I was friendly, and, like a boy, proceeded to
show off. Near by stood a barrel upright, with the top missing. Into
this the bear leaped and then deliberately overturned it on the steep
slope. Away down hill rolled the barrel at a lively pace with the bear
inside. Thrusting out his forepaws he guided the course of the barrel
and controlled its speed.
Once while two black bear cubs were fleeing before a forest fire they
paused and true to their nature had a merry romp. Even the threatening
flames could not make them solemn. Each tried to prevent the other
from climbing a tree that stood alone in the open; round it they
clinched, cuffed, and rolled so merrily that the near-by wild folk
were attracted and momentarily forgot their fears.
The black bear has more human-like traits than any other animal I
know. He is a boy in disguise, will not work long at anything unless
at something to produce mischief. Occasionally he finds things dull,
like a shut-in boy or a boy with a task to perform, and simply does
not know what to do with himself--he wants company.
He is shy and bashful as a child. He plans no harm. He does not eat
bad children; nor does he desire to do so. Nothing would give him
greater delight than to romp with rollicking, irrepressible children
whose parents have blackened his character.
In other words, the black bear is just the opposite in character of
what he has long been and still is almost universally thought to be. A
million written and spoken stories have it that he is ferocious--a
wanton, cruel killer. He fights or works only when compelled to do so.
He is not ferocious. He avoids man as though he were a pestilence.
One day in climbing out on a cliff I accidentally dislodged a huge
rock. This as it fell set a still larger rock going. The second rock
in its hurtling plunge struck a tree in which a young black bear was
sleeping. As the tree came to the earth the bear made haste to scamper
up the nearest tree. But unfortunately the one up which he raced had
lost its top by the same flying ton of stone, and he was able to get
only a few yards above the earth.
To get him to come down I procured a long pole and prodded him easily.
At first, on the defensive, he slapped and knocked the pole to right
and left. He was plainly frightened and being cornered was determined
to fight. I proceeded gently and presently he calmed down and began
playing with the pole. He played just as merrily as ever a kitten
played with a moving, tickling twig or string.
The black bear is the most plausible bluffer I have ever seen. His
hair bristling, upper lip stuck forward, and onrushing with a rapid
volley of champing K-woof-f-f’s, he appears terrible. He pulls himself
out of many a predicament and obtains many an unearned morsel in this
way. Most of his bluffs are for amusement; he will go far out of his
way for the purpose of running one. In any case, if the bluff is
ineffective--and most often it is--he moves on with unbelievable
indifference at the failure, and in a fraction of a second is so
interested in something else, or so successfully pretends to be, that
the bluff might have been yesterday judging from his appearance.
Often, like a boy, he has a merry or a terrible make-believe time, in
which the bluff is exhibited.
Bears are fond of swimming, and during the summer often go for a
plunge in a stream or lake. This is followed by a sunning on the earth
or an airing in a treetop.
The grizzly does not climb trees, but the black bear climbs almost as
readily as a cat. With its cat-like forepaws it can simply race up a
tree trunk. He climbs a small pole or a large tree with equal ease.
The black bear might be called a perching animal. Much of his time,
both asleep and awake, is spent in treetops. Often he has a special
tree, and he may use this tree for months or even years. When closely
pursued by dogs, or the near-by appearance of a grizzly, or if
anything startling happen, instantly a black bear climbs a tree. The
black bear is afraid of the grizzly.
In case of danger or when leaving on a long foraging expedition the
mother usually sends her cubs up a tree. They faithfully remain in the
tree until she returns. One day in Wild Basin, Colorado, while
watching a mother and two cubs feeding on travelling ants, the mother
quietly raised her head then pointed her nose at the cubs. Though
there was not a sound the cubs instantly, though unwillingly, started
toward the foot of a tree. The mother raised her forepaws as though to
go toward them. At that the cubs made haste toward the tree. At the
bottom they hesitated; then the mother with rush and champing Whoof!
simply sent them flying up the trunk. Then she walked away into the
woods.
In the treetop the cubs remained for hours, not once descending to the
earth. It was a lodgepole pine sixty or seventy feet away and several
feet lower than my stand, on the side of a moraine. For some minutes
the cubs stood on the branches looking in the direction in which their
mother had disappeared. They explored the entire tree, climbing
everywhere on the branches, then commenced racing and playing through
the treetop.
At times their actions were very cat-like; now and then squirrel-like;
frequently they were very monkey-like; but at all times lively,
interesting, and bear-like. Occasionally they climbed and started
wrestling far out on a limb. Sometimes they fell off, but caught a
limb below with their claws, and without a pause, swung up again or
else dropped to another limb. Once they scrambled down the trunk
within a few feet of the bottom; and as they raced up again the lower
one snapped at the hind legs of the upper one and finally, attaching
himself to the other with a forepaw, pulled him loose from the tree
trunk. The upper one thus exchanged places with the lower one and the
lively scramble up the trunk continued.
After a while one curled up in a place where three or four limbs
intersected the tree trunk and went to sleep. The other went to sleep
on his back on a flattened limb near the top of the tree.
Realizing that the cubs would stay in the tree, no matter what
happened, I concluded to capture them. Though they had been having
lively exercise for two hours they were anything but exhausted.
Climbing into the tree I chased them round from the bottom to the top;
from the top out on limbs, and from limbs to the bottom--but was
unable to get within reach of them.
Several times I drove one out on top of a limb and then endeavoured to
shake him off and give him a tumble to the earth. A number of times I
braced myself on a near-by large limb and shook with all my might.
Often I was able to move the end of the limb rapidly back and forth,
but the cubs easily clung on. At times they had hold with only one
paw--occasionally with only a single claw; but never could I shake
them free.
The affair ended by my cutting a limb--to which a cub was
clinging--nearly off with my hatchet. Suddenly breaking the remaining
hold of the limb I tossed it and the tenacious little cub out,
tumbling toward the earth. The cub struck the earth lightly, and
before I had fully recovered from nearly tumbling after him came
scrambling up the tree trunk beneath me!
One spring day while travelling in the mountains I paused in a whirl
of mist and wet snow to look for the trail. I could see only a few
feet ahead. As I looked closely a bear emerged from the gloom heading
straight for me. Behind her were two cubs. I caught an impatient
expression when she first saw me. She stopped, and with a growl of
anger wheeled and boxed the cubs right and left like a worried,
unpoised mother. They vanished in the direction from which they had
come, the cubs being urged on with lively spanks.
Like most animals, the black bear has a local habitation. His
territory is twenty miles or less in circumference. In this territory
he is likely to spend his years, but in springtime he may descend to
feed on the earliest wild gardens of the foothills. I have tracked
black bears across mountain passes, and on one occasion I found a bear
track on the summit of Long’s Peak.
The black bear eats everything that is edible, although his food is
mainly that of a vegetarian. He digs out rich willow and aspen roots
in the shallow and soft places, and tears up numerous plants for their
roots or tubers. He eats grass and devours hundreds of juicy weeds. In
summer he goes miles to berry patches and with the berries browses off
a few inches of thorny bush; he bites off the end of a plum-tree limb
and consumes it along with its leaves and fruit.
During summer I have seen him on the edge of snowfields and glaciers
consuming thousands of unfortunate grasshoppers, flies, and other
insects there accumulated. He is particularly fond of ants--tears ant
hills to pieces and licks up the ants as they come storming forth to
bite him. He tears hundreds of rotten logs and stumps to pieces for
grubs, ants and their eggs. He freely eats honey, the bees and their
nests. He often amuses himself and makes a most amusing and man-like
spectacle by chasing and catching grasshoppers.
In a fish country he searches for fish and occasionally catches live
ones; but he is too restless or shiftless to be a good fisherman. I
have seen him catch fish by thrusting his nose in root entanglements
in the edge of a brook; sometimes he captures salmon or trout that are
struggling through shallow ripples.
Occasionally he catches a rabbit or a bird. But most of his meat is
stale, with the killing of which he had nothing to do. He will devour
carrion that has the accumulated smell of weeks of corruption. He
catches more mice than a cat; and in the realm of economic biology he
should be rated as useful. He consumes many other pests.
The black bear is--or was--pretty well distributed over North America.
His colour and activities vary somewhat with the locality, this being
due perhaps to a difference of climate and food supply.
Everywhere, however, he is very much the same. Wherever found he has
the hibernating habit. This is most developed in the colder
localities. Commonly he is fat at the close of autumn; and as a
preliminary to his long winter rest he makes a temporary nest where
for a few days he fasts and sleeps.
With his stomach completely empty he retires into hibernating quarters
for the winter. This place may be dug beneath the base of a fallen
tree, close to the upturned roots, or a rude cave between immense
rocks, or a den beneath a brush heap. Sometimes he sleeps on the bare
earth or on the rocks of a cave; but he commonly claws into his den a
quantity of litter or trash, then crawls into this and goes to sleep.
The time of his retiring for the winter varies with the latitude; but
usually all bears of the same locality retire at about the same date,
early December being the most common time.
The grizzly bear is more particular in his choice of sleeping quarters
and desires better protection and concealment than the black bear.
Bears sometimes come forth in fair weather for a few hours and
possibly for a few days. I have known them to come out briefly in
mid-winter.
With the coming of spring--anywhere between the first of March and the
middle of May--the bears emerge, the males commonly two weeks or more
earlier than the females. Usually they at once journey down the
mountain. They eat little or nothing for the first few days. They are
likely to break their fast with the tender shoots of willow, grass,
and sprouting roots, or a bite of bark from a pine.
The cubs are born about mid-winter. Commonly there are three at a
birth, but the number varies from one to four. At the time of birth
these tiny, helpless little bears rarely weigh more than half a pound.
I suppose if they were larger their mother would not be able to
nourish them, on account of having to endure the hibernating fast for
a month or so after their birth.
In May, when the cubs and their mother emerge from the dark den, the
cubs are most cunning, and lively little balls of fur they are! By
this time they are about the weight and size of a cottontail rabbit.
In colour they may be black, cinnamon, or cream.
As with the grizzly, the colour has nothing to do with the species.
With black bears, however, if the fur is black his claws are also
black; or if brown the claws match the colour of the fur. With the
grizzly the colour of claws and fur often do not match.
Few more interesting exhibitions of play are to be seen than that of
cubs with their mother. Often, for an hour at a time, the mother lies
in a lazy attitude and allows the cubs to romp all over her and maul
her to their hearts’ content.
The mother will defend her cubs with cunning, strength, and utmost
bravery. Nothing is more pathetic in the wild world than the
attachment shown by the actions of the whimpering cubs over the body
of their dead mother. They will struggle with utmost desperation to
prevent being torn away from it.
In the majority of cases the mother appears to wean the cubs during
the first autumn of their lives. The cubs then den up together that
winter. In a number of cases, whenever the cubs are not weaned until
the second autumn, they are certain to den up with their mother the
first winter. The second winter the young den up together. Though
eager for play, brother and sister cubs do not play together after the
second summer. When older than two years they play alone or with other
bears of the same age.
Young black bears have good tempers and are playful in captivity. But
if teased or annoyed they become troublesome and even dangerous with
age. If thine enemy offend thee present him with a black bear cub that
has been mistreated. He is an intense, high-strung animal, and if
subjected to annoyances, teasing, or occasional cruelty, becomes
revengeful and vindictive. Sometimes he will even look for trouble,
and once in a fight has the tenacity of a bulldog.
Two bears that I raised were exceedingly good-tempered and never
looked for trouble. I have known other similar instances. I am
inclined to conclude that with uniformly kind treatment the black bear
would always have a kind disposition.
For a year or two a dissipated cruiser and his loyal black bear were
familiar figures in the West. The pranks of the bear easily brought
drinks enough to enable the cruiser to be drunk most of the time. Many
times, when going to my room in the early morning after work on a
night shift, I found the cruiser asleep in the street entrance to my
lodging house. The faithful bear--Tar Baby--sat by the cruiser’s side,
patiently waiting for his awakening.
The black bear has a well-developed brain and may be classed among the
alert animals of the wild. Its senses are amazingly developed; they
seem to be ever on duty. When a possible enemy is yet a mile or so
distant they receive by scent or by sound a threatening and wireless
message on the moving or through the stationary air. Therefore it is
almost impossible to approach closely a wild bear.
With the black bear, as with every living thing, every move calls for
safety first; and this exceedingly alert animal is among the very
first to appreciate a friendly locality.
The black bear has never been protected as a game animal; through all
the seasons of the year, with gun and dogs, the hunter is allowed to
pursue him. As he is verging on extinction, and as he gives to the
wilds much of its spirit, there ought to be a closed season for a few
years to protect this rollicking fellow of the forest.