misadventures, we arrived at a small town on a branch of the Northern
Pacific Railway one hundred and twenty-five miles from Spokane; and here
we decided to ship not only our new store of furs, but our camp outfit
as well. From here on our way lay through open farm lands, and we could
find bed and board with the ranchers as we travelled.
[Illustration: Ben tries on his new chain and collar]
Ben was still the same jolly fellow, but now grown so large that by
standing on his hind feet he could catch his claws in the hair cinch of
the saddle and relieve us of the trouble of lifting him to the back of
his mount. He and Jim remained the best of friends. Spencer continued to
teach the cub new tricks. Ben could now juggle not only the ball, but
any other object that was not too heavy for his strength, and he spent
many hours at the pastime. While we were packing the baggage Ben
attracted the attention of the entire population. The children, being
told that he was gentle, brought him ripe plums and candies and he was
constantly stuffed as full as he could hold, and not unnaturally took a
great fancy to the kids. They were always ready to play with him,
moreover, and his entire time at this place was divided between eating
and wrestling with the youngsters. And when we left Ben received an
ovation from the whole community.
Ben and Buckskin caused no end of sensations in passing through the
country. We often came across loose horses feeding along the highway,
and these nearly always wished to make our acquaintance. They would
follow Spencer and myself for a while, and then turn back to see if the
pony loitering in the rear was not more friendly. And Buck on these
occasions would hurry ahead, more than anxious to meet them. But they
never waited for an introduction. With loud snorts and tails in the air
they either shot away across the open fields or tore madly past us up
the turnpike, while Buckskin stood looking after them in puzzled
disappointment.
One day, just as we were rounding a turn in the road, we met a farmer
and his wife driving a two-horse buggy. Buckskin had just come loping up
and was only a few yards behind us, and the sight of a bear riding a
horse so pleased the farmer that he paid little attention to his horses,
who almost went crazy with fright. Buck looked at the dancing team in
amazement, and Ben was as much interested as any one. But the woman, in
the very beginning, took sides with the farm team, and sat with
terrified eyes clutching her husband’s arm and yelling for him to be
careful. Finally her fright and cries got on his nerves, and he stopped
laughing long enough to shout “WILL YOU SHUT UP?” in a voice that
effectually broke up the meeting.
One night we asked for lodging at a farm run by an old lady. As I
knocked at the door of the house and proffered our request she at once
gave her consent, and directed us to the rear of the stable, where we
would find hay for our horses and where we could spread our blankets for
the night. Next morning we paid our bill, and as we left the yard the
old lady, who was at the door to see us off, called out to know if all
five of those horses were ours. I told her that they were and asked what
she meant, and she said that she had only charged us for feed for three.
She had, she explained, been so taken up with looking at that fool bear
riding a horse that two of the horses had escaped her notice.
At last we reached Spokane and Ben’s horseback riding came to an end. He
had covered more than a thousand miles of mountain and valley and ridden
for nearly four months. I fitted up a woodshed for him with a door
opening into a small court, where an old partly rotted log was put to
remind him of the forest. He soon became a great favorite, and as no one
was allowed to tease him he continued to be friendly and gentle.
This shed in which Ben lived had the earth for a floor, and adjoining it
there was a carriage-house with a floor some ten or twelve inches above
the ground. One day soon after Ben was placed in the shed I came home
and found a large pile of fresh earth and a hole leading down under the
carriage-house. I could hear Ben digging and puffing at the bottom of
it, and when I called he came out, his silky black coat covered with
dirt. I had never seen him dig before, unless it was for a root, or the
time I had buried him alive to hush his crying in the little cave in the
Bitter Roots; and it was several days before I understood what he was
about. Then it came to me that he was building himself a winter home. I
have learned since that bears in captivity by no means always show a
desire to hibernate; but Ben had the instinct thoroughly developed. And
instinct it was, pure and simple, for he had never seen a bear’s den
except the one that he left as a tiny cub on the day that his mother was
killed. He evidently regarded the work as a most serious and important
undertaking, and I watched his labors with much interest. He devoted
several hours each day to shaping his cave and at times would break
suddenly away in the very middle of a romp and hurry to his digging. If
I caught him by his short tail and dragged him out of the hole, he would
rush back to his work as soon as released. I even enlarged the entrance
so that I could crawl in and watch him work, and on one or two occasions
I undertook to help him. But, while he would not resent this, my work
did not seem to please him, as he moved the dirt which I had dug and
resettled it to suit himself. He piled loose earth up under the floor of
the carriage-house and pushed and jammed it tight up against the boards
until there was not a crack or space left through which a draught could
reach him. The hole itself he made about four feet in diameter and about
three feet deep; and when this part of the work was finished he turned
his attention to furnishing his home. He found some cast-off clothing in
the alley near his shed and dragged it into his den under the
carriage-house. After arranging this first instalment he hurried out to
look for more, and for several evenings the furnishing of the sleeping
apartment occupied the major part of his time. Once he came back
dragging a fine cashmere shawl that he pulled off a clothesline where
one of the neighbors had hung it to air! Not until the floor of his den
was several inches deep in rags did he give up foraging and once more
return to his usual habits.
And then, one morning, when I went to the shed for kindling, there was
no Ben to greet me. The ground was buried several inches deep in snow
and quite a drift had sifted through the crack under the door; and I saw
by following Ben’s chain that it led down under the carriage-house, and
knew that he was now enjoying the comforts that he had made ready a
month before. As long as the severe weather lasted Ben remained in his
cave. But there was nothing either mysterious or curious about his
condition. Sometimes, in the coldest weather, I would call him out and
he never failed to come. It usually took three calls to bring him
however. At my first cry of “Ben!” there would be no sound; then, at a
louder “Ben!” there would be a shaking of the chain, then quiet again;
but at the third peremptory call there would be a few puffs and snorts
and out he would come, fairly steaming from the warmth of his house. I
often tried to get him to eat at such times, but he would only smell of
the food; then he would stand up on his hind feet with his forepaws
against my shoulders, lap my face and hands with his tongue, and crawl
back to his nest. Several times I crept down into his den to find out
how he slept. He was curled up much as a dog would be and seemed simply
to be having a good nap. The amount of heat that his body gave out was
astonishing. I have thrust my hand under him as he slept and it actually
felt hot. The steam, too, that came up through the cracks of the floor
of the carriage-house not only covered the carriage with frost but
coated the whole inside of the room.
For more than a year, or until he got so large and rough that he broke
the rockers from several chairs that he upset in his mad gallops around
the rooms, he was allowed the privilege of the house. He used to stand
up and touch the keys of the piano gently, then draw back and listen as
long as the vibration lasted. He was fond, too, of being dragged about
on his back by a rope that he held fast in his teeth. He never tired of
this sport and would get his rope and pester you until you gave him a
drag to get rid of him. He had several playthings with which he would
amuse himself for hours, and one of these was a block of wood that had
replaced the rope ball that he had been used to juggle on his trip
through the Bitter Roots. Another was ten or twelve feet of old garden
hose. This he would seize in his teeth by the middle and shake it as a
dog would shake a snake until the ends fairly snapped. Once, when he had
hold of the hose, I put my mouth to one end and called through it. He
was all attention at once and when I called again he took the opposite
end in his paws, seated himself squarely on the ground, and held one eye
to the opening to see where the sound came from. This sitting down to
things was characteristic of him. He would never do anything that he
could sit down to until he had deliberately settled himself in that
comfortable position. A mirror was a great puzzle to him and he never
fully solved the riddle of where the other bear kept himself. He would
stand in front and look at his reflection, then try to touch it with his
paw. Finding the glass in the road, he would tip the mirror forward and
look behind it; then start in and walk several times around it, trying
to catch up with the illusive bear.
But Ben’s desire to catch the looking-glass bear was as nothing to his
determination to catch the kitchen cat. This was his supreme ambition,
and, although he never realized it, there was one occasion on which he
came within sight of success. When he was a small cub and admitted
familiarly to the house he had often chased the cat around the kitchen
until everything had been upset except the stove; or until the cat,
watching her chance, had escaped to the woodshed to go into hiding for
an hour to get her nerves quieted down. But his final banishment from
the house had established a forced truce between them. He was not
allowed in her territory, and she took care not to trespass on his. One
day, however, when Ben was nearly two years old, he was, for some reason
or other, allowed to come into the kitchen for a few moments. And as he
entered the room he spied the cat. Instantly his forgotten dreams
returned; and when pussy, her tail fluffed up to four times its rightful
size, took refuge in the kitchen pantry, Ben very deliberately crossed
the kitchen and blocked the pantry door. For a few seconds the two
glared at each other and then, with a spit and a yowl, the cat made a
mad dash around the pantry shelves and, amid the din of falling stew
pans, vaulted clear over the bear’s head and crouched by the wood box
behind the stove. Now Ben, when a small cub, had been used to going
under that stove, and he saw no reason for not taking the same old
route. His head went under all right, but for an instant the massive
shoulders stuck. Then the powerful hind feet were gathered under him,
there was a ripping of linoleum as the sharp nails tore through it, the
hind legs straightened out, and the stove went over with a mighty crash.
A dozen feet of stove pipe came tumbling down, the room was filled with
smoke, and from underneath the wreck a frightened cat leaped through the
door closely followed by a disappointed bear. This was Ben’s last visit
inside the house.
As he grew older and larger, he remained as kindly and good-natured as
ever. He would still tumble about with Jim, although the dog could now
stand very little of this kind of play; for Ben did not know how strong
and rough he was. When, in playing with the boys in back lots, he got
warmed up, he would go flying over to a barrel kept full of water for
the horses and, climbing upon the rim, would let his hinder parts down
into the cool water, turn round up to his chin for a few minutes, and
then climb out and take after one of the spectators. When he caught up
with any one he would never touch them, but would at once turn and
expect them to chase him. Then, when about to be caught, he would go
snorting up a telegraph pole. I frequently took him walking in the town,
but always on a chain to keep him from chasing everybody. On these
occasions if he heard any unfamiliar noise he would clutch the chain
close up to his collar and sit down. After listening awhile, if he
decided that it was safe to proceed, he would drop the chain and our
walk would continue. But if the sound didn’t please him he would start
for his woodshed on the jump, and after he got to weigh a hundred pounds
or more I invariably went with him—if I hung onto the chain.
[Illustration: A stop for a drink of water]
He still juggled his block, but now he had a new one that was more
suited to his size and strength, a piece of log a foot or more in
diameter and sixteen to eighteen inches in length. This stick he kept
for a couple of years and juggled so much that his claws wore hollows in
the ends of it.
When Ben was four years old business compelled me to move to the town of
Missoula, Montana. I could not bear to part with my pet, so shipped him
by express to the town he had visited on horseback as a tiny cub. Now,
however, the express company charged me for transportation on three
hundred and thirty-two pounds of bear meat. It was fall when we moved to
Missoula, and Ben was given a small room in one end of a woodshed and,
as he had no cave to sleep in, I had the room filled with shavings.
Ben’s arrival was quite an event and roused much interest among the
younger element of the town; which at first was shown by about forty
boys attacking him with sticks and anything that they could hurl at him
or punch him with. I showed them, however, how gentle and playful he
was; got some of the boys to wrestle with him; told them that if they
continued this rough treatment to which Ben was not used I would be
compelled to lock him up; and, having had some experience with boys as
well as with bears, forbore to tell them what I proposed to do to those
who did not listen to me. This explanation and Ben’s evident readiness
to make friends quite changed the general attitude toward him, but there
were a few who refused to see things from my point of view. There was a
man in Missoula at that time, Urlin by name, who was, or thought he was,
the whole show. He was a sort of incipient “boss”; was at the head of
the city council, and took it upon himself to see that things in general
were run according to his ideas. He had two red-headed sons who aspired
to occupy a similar position among the boys, and these had been the
ringleaders of the mob that had attacked Ben, and were among the few who
either could not or would not abandon the tactics of teasing and
persecution. So, as there was no lock on Ben’s shed, but only a wooden
button, and as it was already late in the fall, I nailed this fast and
left the bear in his bed of shavings. That same afternoon, happening to
look out of the window of the shop in which I was working, I saw people
hurrying down the street and went to the door to find out what the
excitement was about. Two blocks away, in front of my house, a mob was
gathering, and I hurried home to find most of the women of the
neighborhood wringing their hands and calling down all kinds of curses
on my head.
At first I could make neither head nor tail of the clamor, but finally
gathered that that bloodthirsty, savage, and unspeakable bear of mine
had killed a boy; and upon asking to see the victim was told that the
remains had been taken to a neighbor’s house and a doctor summoned. This
was scarcely pleasant news and not calculated to make me popular in my
new home; but, knowing that whatever had happened Ben had not taken the
offensive without ample cause, I unchained him and put him into the
cellar of my house, well out of harm’s way, before looking further into
the matter. Then I went over to the temporary morgue and found the
corpse (needless to say it was one of the Urlin boys) sitting up on the
kitchen floor holding a sort of an impromptu reception and, with the
exception of Ben, the least excited of any one concerned. I could not
help admiring the youngster’s pluck, for he was an awful sight. From his
feet to his knees his legs were lacerated and his clothing torn into
shreds; and the top of his head—redder by far than ever nature had
intended—was a bloody horror. As soon as I laid eyes on him I guessed
what had happened.
It developed that the two Urlin boys had broken open the door of the
shed and gone in to wrestle with the bear. Ben was willing, as he always
was, and a lively match was soon on; whereupon, seeing that the bear did
not harm the two already in the room, another of the boys joined the
scuffle. Then one of them got on the bear’s back. This was a new one on
Ben, but he took kindly to the idea and was soon galloping around the
little room with his rider. Then another boy climbed on and Ben carried
the two of them at the same mad pace. Then the third boy got aboard and
round they all went, much to the delight of themselves and their
cheering audience in the doorway. But even Ben’s muscles of steel had
their limit of endurance, and after a few circles of the room with the
three riders he suddenly stopped and rolled over on his back. And now an
amazing thing happened. Of the three boys, suddenly tumbled
helter-skelter from their seats, one happened to fall upon the upturned
paws of the bear; and Ben, who for years had juggled rope balls, cord
sticks, and miniature logs, instantly undertook to give an exhibition
with his new implement. Gathering the badly frightened boy into
position, the bear set him whirling. His clothing from his shoe tops to
his knees was soon ripped to shreds and his legs torn and bleeding; his
scalp was lacerated by the sharp claws until the blood flew in showers;
his cries rose to shrieks and sank again to moans; but the bear,
unmoved, kept up the perfect rhythm of his strokes. Finally the
terrified lookers-on in the doorway, realizing that something had to be
done if their leader was not to be twirled to death before their eyes,
tore a rail from the fence and with a few pokes in Ben’s side induced
him to drop the boy, who was then dragged out apparently more dead than
alive.
Dr. Buckley, of the Northern Pacific Railway Hospital, carried young
Urlin to his office, shaved his head, took seventy-six stitches in his
scalp, and put rolls of surgical plaster on his shins. So square and
true had Ben juggled him that not a scratch was found on his face or on
any part of his body between the top of his head and his knees. He
eventually came out of the hospital no worse for his ordeal, but I doubt
if he ever again undertook to ride a bear.
For a while there was much curiosity in town as to what old man Urlin
would do in the matter, and many prophecies and warnings reached me. But
for some days I heard nothing from him. Then he called on me and asked,
very politely, if I had killed the bear. When I told him that Ben was
well and would in all natural probability live for twenty years or so,
the old fellow threw diplomacy to the winds and fumed and threatened
like a madman. But he calmed down in the end; especially after he was
informed by his lawyers that, as his boys had forcibly broken into my
shed, it was he himself that could be called to legal account. And so
the matter was dropped.
But Ben was now grown so large that none but myself cared to wait on
him; and when, the next spring, I found that I was going to be away in
the mountains all summer, I began looking about for some way of getting
him a good home. Nothing in the world would have induced me to have him
killed, and I did not like to turn him loose in the hills for some
trapper to catch or poison. Moreover I doubted his ability, after so
sheltered a life, to shift for himself in the wilderness. But this was a
problem in which the “don’t’s” were more easily discovered than the
“do’s.” Weeks slipped by, I was leaving in a short time, no solution had
offered, and I was at my wits’ end. And then a travelling circus came to
town. I sought out the manager, told him Ben’s story, obtained his
promise of kind treatment and good care for my pet and, with genuine
heartache, presented the fine animal to him. That was sixteen years ago
and I have never heard of Ben since. I often wonder if he’s still alive
and if he’d know me. But of the last I have not a single doubt.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE BLACK BEAR
Its Distribution and Habits
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CLASSIFICATION OF BEARS
SCIENTIFIC naturalists, like other learned gentlemen in large
spectacles, have a way (or it sometimes seems as though they had) of
using very big words about very small matters. For instance, what they
might describe as “an aquatic larva of _Rana catesbiana_ or other
Batrachian,” we would call a tadpole. And so on through the list. But we
are obliged to assume that they have excellent reasons for their choice
of language, and there is no getting around the fact that if we wish to
profit by their wisdom we have to learn at least the simple rules of
their speech.
We ought, for example, to understand that when a new animal, or a new
variety of an old one, is discovered, or rather when it is officially
described and listed by a naturalist, it is given a special Latin name
which, added to the Latin name of the family to which it belongs,
thenceforth serves to identify it among all students of natural history.
Moreover, as a compliment to the man who thus stood god-parent for it in
the scientific world, his name is added, in parentheses, to these Latin
designations. Thus the Rocky Mountain grizzly bear is known to technical
fame as _Ursus horribilis_ (Ord), which, being interpreted, means that
this much-misrepresented member of the bear tribe was first described
officially by George Ord and was named by him “The Terrible.”
There have been many attempts to classify the North American bears; and
from time to time, as new facts come to light, or new students advance
new theories as to the relationships of the different species, these
lists are altered. But before proceeding to give my own observations
upon the actual habits and characteristics of the common Black Bear, the
_Ursus americanus_ (Pallas) of the text-books, I reproduce (without
recourse) a list of what appear to be the most generally recognized
varieties of bears inhabiting the North American continent.
The Polar Bear. _Ursus maritimus_ (Desm.). Polar regions generally.
THE ALASKAN BROWN BEARS
The Kodiak Bear. _Ursus middendorffi_ (Merriam). Kodiak Island, Alaska.
The largest of all living bears.
The Yakutat Bear. _Ursus dalli_ (Merriam). Yakutat Bay and seaward
slopes of the St. Elias range.
The Admiralty Bear. _Ursus eulophus_ (Merriam). Admiralty Islands,
Alaska.
The Peninsula Bear. _Ursus merriami_ (Allen). Portage Bay, Alaska
Peninsula.
THE GRIZZLY BEARS
The Rocky Mountain Grizzly. _Ursus horribilis_ (Ord). Rocky Mountains
from Mexico to Alaska.
The Sonora Grizzly. _Ursus horribilis horriæus_ (Baird). South-western
New Mexico.
The Barren Ground Grizzly. _Ursus richardsoni_ (Mayne Reid). Great Slave
Lake regions and Barren Grounds.
THE BLACK BEARS
The American Black Bear. _Ursus americanus_ (Pallas).
Scornborger’s Black Bear. _Ursus americanus scornborgeri_ (Bangs).
Labrador.
Queen Charlotte Islands Black Bear. _Ursus americanus carlottæ_
(Osgood).
Desert Black Bear. _Ursus americanus eremicus_ (Merriam). Coahuila,
Mexico.
Florida Black Bear. _Ursus floridanus_ (Merriam).
Louisiana Black Bear. _Ursus luteolus_ (Griffith).
North-western Black Bear. _Ursus altifrontalis_ (Elliot). Clallam
County, Washington.
Alberta Black Bear. _Ursus hylodromus_ (Elliot).
The Fighting Bear. _Ursus machetes_ (Elliot). Chihuahua, Mexico.
OTHER MEMBERS OF THE BLACK-BEAR GROUP
Emmons’s Glacier Bear. _Ursus emmonsi_ (Dall). Mt. St. Elias region,
Alaska.
The Inland White Bear. _Ursus kermodii_ (Hornaday). South-western
British Columbia.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
DESCRIPTION AND DISTRIBUTION