A mother grizzly and her year-and-a-half-old cub came shuffling along
the shore of a little lake in the No-Summer Mountains. Where a brook
flowed into the lake she stopped, looked at the cub, and possibly
grunted something to him. She may have said, "Here, Johnny, is a
territory not claimed by other bears; this is to be your domain." I
watched him as she went ambling away alone. He stood looking at the
ground for several seconds, then turned to see his mother in the
distance, and finally surveyed his surroundings. Pushed off into the
world to shift for himself, the cub walked up the mountain-side and
disappeared in the woods.
I had seen this cub and his mother on the other side of the Medicine Bow
Mountains, at least fifty miles away. When I saw her leaving the cub to
make his way alone, I wanted to ask, "Is it common for a mother grizzly
to take her children to the territory that is to be their home?" The
selection of this domain may sometimes be made by the mother but most
often, probably, it is made by the cubs.
But, selection of the home territory aside, the grizzly leads a solitary
life; he lives apart from other bears, has his thought, his work, his
recreation, and his play by himself. Alone he hunts for food, alone he
wanders for adventure. Singly he fights his foes, and in solitude he
dens up in winter. A possible explanation of this may lie in the fact
that being alone is an advantage to an animal of his size and enormous
food-requirements. Then, too, since the advent of the white man with the
long-range rifle, it is an advantage to act singly. The grizzly's
solitary habit may be one which is an advantage in the perpetuation of
the species. Only twice have I known of father, mother, and cubs being
seen together, and I have never heard of their denning together.
A grizzly has his own home territory. He claims the exclusive use of
certain lands. In only one instance have I known two companion grizzlies
to occupy the same region permanently. These two were often seen eating,
traveling, and resting near each other. Though the grizzly wanders off
the home territory for an occasional visit, in it through the seasons
and through the years he makes his living; he defends it against
invaders, and in it he commonly dies.
Most wild creatures have their home territories, areas which they claim
the right to use to the exclusion of others of the same species. The
bear is likely to hold more territory than any other kind of life; and
he will dominate in the territory all kinds of life that may temporarily
conflict with his use of it. Most birds and beasts use their large or
tiny bit of earth in pairs, flocks, herds, or colonies. The grizzly uses
his alone. His domain may be in part the claimed territory of other
species; lions, beavers, wolves, eagles, and other life may use it.
The grizzly bear is the aristocrat of the wilds. He is lordly and
reserved. He will meet a bighorn sheep or other wild animal, and, though
aware of its presence, pay no apparent attention to it. If near another
bear, either a black or a grizzly, while appearing to be disinterested,
or pretending not to have seen him, he is in fact watching the other's
movements. A black bear avoids him. Sometimes two grizzlies who have
been feeding near each other deliberately meet, or come face to face.
Each, with admirable acting, feigns intense surprise that the other is
there. They bristle up, exchange a few unfriendly roars and growls, make
a threatening move or two, and then go on. Sometimes they pass as though
unconscious of each other's presence.
A network of trails extends over the grizzly's mountain home. These
reach food-supply centres, lookout and resting stations, swimming-holes,
and other places often visited. Generally when going anywhere the
grizzly follows a trail; if pursued, he is most certain to do so. Many
of these trails are dim, but others are deeply worn. He may sometimes
make a new trail, but in general he follows the old ones which have been
used by generations of bears. His domain may be crossed by other
wild-life trails, which he may or may not use.
Topography, mountain barriers, streams, or other natural boundary-lines
in part determine the form of the grizzly's home territory. The size is
determined by the food-supply, by the bear population of the region, and
by individual prowess. A bear of exceptional prowess may hold an empire.
The territory dominated by old "Timberline" had an area of about eighty
square miles. The western boundary-line followed the rim of the
Continental Divide for nearly fifteen miles. Meeker Ridge and Cony
Creek were other boundary-lines, while at the north stood Chief's Head
Mountain and Long's Peak. Toward the south the territory narrowed and
was not more than two miles across; in the centre it must have been
nearly ten miles wide. An extensive area lay above the timber-line.
There were forests primeval, a number of cañons and streams, numerous
small lakes and beaver ponds. In this varied and extensive region old
"Timberline" had all the necessities of life and many of the luxuries of
beardom.
The claw-marks and the tooth-marks which grizzlies and some other
animals place on trees are often interpreted as being "No Trespass"
signs, indications of boundary-lines, survey marks, or the seal of
ownership of the landlord. If these marks are extremely high, they are
supposed to inspire respect for the one occupying the region, or to
cause terror to the invader, unless he be large enough to reach higher.
But I question any such significance attached to these marks. Ofttimes
the bear leaves these marks in the centre of his home range, sometimes
within the home territory of a lion or a big-horn. While the idea of its
being a mark of ownership is a most artistic and entertaining one, it
does not appear to have any natural-history value.
I have seen bears, reaching high, tear out pieces of bark, and have also
seen both bears and lions put claw-marks upon trees. Generally this
clawing and biting was done during languid and leisurely moments when
there was nothing definite to do. One day I watched a grizzly stand on
hind feet upon a five-foot snowdrift where he had been lying. Placing
his front paws against a spruce as high as he could reach, he clawed the
bark indifferently. It was more of a muscle-stretching performance than
anything else. He took a tiny bite out of the tree and walked off with
the strip of bark in his mouth. Then he gave it a playful shake and
dropped it.
It is well known that wolves, beavers, and some other animals have
information places. These may or may not be intentionally established.
Some of these places are where wild-life trails cross, or are near
water-holes, salt-licks, play places, or some neutral feeding-ground.
They may be frequented exclusively by one species or by several. Even
the casual visits and bark-biting of bears incidentally contribute
something of interest to the next visitors. In these places an animal
may learn of the recent visit of one of his species or of a dreaded
enemy, or may even find information as to the sex of the visitors. They
are thus akin to country cross-roads where gossip is exchanged
concerning human affairs.
A grizzly that I was trailing turned abruptly aside to visit a news
station of this kind. Plainly it was a loafing or frequented spot for
wild life; from the nature of the topography and from numerous tracks
seen during later visits I learned that it was a stamping-ground and a
trail-crossing. Foxes, coyotes, skunks, rats, deer, and mountain sheep
had been visitors. The manner in which the bear turned aside to visit
the place suggested that he had been there before; but he may just have
caught interesting, newsy scent which attracted him there for the first
time. His actions were those of one who is hunting for news.
At night the bear may lie down in almost any place, but during the
daytime he selects one of the safest places in his realm. If in the high
mountains this may be on a ridge above the timber-line, or on a treeless
hilltop from which he commands a wide outlook, or in the end of a cañon,
or in a thicket. Wherever the place, it is one where the bear cannot be
easily surprised, and where his scouts--his scent, his sight, and his
ears--would easily warn him of the approach of any possible danger.
When pursued, the grizzly tries to keep within his domain. Usually he
travels only seven or eight miles in one direction, then doubles back,
circles, and zigzags. Only two or three times when trailing the bear
have I known him to travel more than fourteen or fifteen miles in one
direction. In one long trailing experience I observed that the bear,
with many twists and zigzags, covered his domain practically twice over.
I trailed the same grizzly two Septembers, three years apart. I started
him the second time near the place where I had started him before, and
he followed for three days over almost exactly the same route taken the
first time.
Three prospectors and I were rowing across a lake in the Sawtooth
Mountains of Idaho. When about half a mile from the farther shore, we
spied a grizzly swimming across. We pursued, and when we got near, one
of the men proposed to rope him, saying that the bear could now tow us
ashore. The other two protested so vigorously that the rope was not
thrown. Fortunate for us that it was not, for had it fallen over the
neck of Mr. Grizzly, the chances are that he might have climbed into the
boat. In Alaska I saw a grizzly out at sea, swimming vigorously along
between two islands that were seven miles apart. The grizzly is fond of
water, is an excellent and enduring swimmer, and in the water fights
effectively.
While I was on a winter trip into the San Juan Mountains a prospector
told me of an occurrence which he had just witnessed. A snow-slide
crashing down into a gulch close to a grizzly den aroused the bear, who
came out with a rush to see what was going on. He did not lose his head,
but looked about until the air cleared of the swirling snow-dust. Then
he walked round the wreckage brought down by the slide and finally
climbed it and explored the opening it had smashed through the woods.
After being out more than an hour he re-entered the den.
Though living a solitary life in the seclusion of the wilderness, this
bear was again routed out before spring. His den was only a few feet
above the stream, on the mountain-side. The débris brought down by the
snow-slide forty or fifty feet up the gulch dammed the stream and raised
the water so that it leaked through the earth into the den. Again
driven forth from his den, the bear--so his tracks in the snow
showed--after one pause climbed to another den on the mountain-side
about two miles distant.
The grizzly spends about one third of each year in hibernation. He may
use the same den year after year, repairing and reshaping it; or perhaps
he will dig a new one. Sometimes he goes outside his own territory for a
den to his liking. He is sometimes driven forth during hibernation by
landslides as well as by snow-slides and floods.
A grizzly is strongly attached to his home territory and spends most of
his time in it. Occasionally, and in exceptional cases regularly, he
wanders far away. A scarcity of food may cause him to leave home
temporarily; or excessive food elsewhere may attract him.
Bears and lions are not neighborly, and at best each ignores the other;
but one bear I knew followed a lion for weeks, and others have
occasionally done likewise, profiting by the food-supply--the excessive
killing of the lion. Here was unusual tolerance, almost friendly
association, between antagonistic wild folk.
The abundance of food at any place in a bear's territory gives other
grizzlies public rights. A berry-patch or a stream which has a supply
equal to the needs of many bears, a beaver pond, or a lake, may become a
public feeding-place. A flood, a storm, a snow-slide, or other agency
may take the lives of a number of animals--cause a congestion of food in
any territory.
That there sometimes is fighting in these public places, and that one
bear sometimes tries to hog a larger food-supply than he can use does
not change the custom of the species. Incidentally, this violation of
general or public rights but reminds us how human-like are bears in
their habits, good and bad.
Lewis and Clark found a number of grizzlies congregated at places along
the Missouri River. Apparently these had got together like those in
Yellowstone Park, because of congested food-supply. It appears that at
regular crossings along the river numbers of buffalo were annually
drowned, and carcasses regularly strewn at about the same places.
There are a number of regions in Alaska where a bear lives in his own
chosen locality but regularly goes to a public feeding-ground. Much of
the food is along the seashore and on the lower courses of streams.
There is also a food-belt above the timber-line, where mice abound and
where there is grass upon which bears feed. The seasonal nature of part
of the food may thus encourage or compel bears of one locality to travel
a long distance to secure the only food obtainable.
If there be straggling grizzlies who wander about like gypsies, they are
the rare exception: the nearest to them were the few "buffalo
grizzlies," those that in old days followed the migrating buffalo herds.
Though the problem of getting a living makes up most of the grizzly's
daily programme, he knows the wisdom of taking time off and having a
change from the routine of life. The ability to concentrate in eager
play is probably one of the best evidences of the grizzly's unusual
brain-power. It is good to know that, although most of the time he lives
alone and takes things seriously, he also has the power to relax and to
build and restore himself in play. This may help to give contentment to
solitary life in home territory.
When well fed, the grizzly sometimes strolls over his estate and pauses
to watch the antics of other wild life. He will stand in a stream to
see the ways of water-ouzels. The sliding of otter at play appears to
interest him, and I have discovered otter-slides by following his tracks
to them. Once, when I was enjoying the play of a number of beaver racing
and splashing in a pond, a grizzly watched them for a time from the edge
of the woods, then came out on the dam and sat down where he could
better see them. Though a solitary and self-contained baron, he has many
entertaining interests.
There are times at home, or abroad, when the grizzly is not deeply
interested in anything, when time hangs a little heavy on his hands, or
on his mind. Sometimes at home he doesn't quite know what to do with
himself. He isn't hungry, he can't think of any place where he cares to
go, he isn't interested in swimming, he doesn't even want to play. He
doesn't care to lie down and sleep. He starts off languidly, stops,
moves on, rears up, takes a bite out of the bark of a tree; but he
doesn't care for the bark to eat and doesn't even look up to see how
high he has bitten.
The grizzly is a descendant of a long line of wanderers and may
occasionally explore surrounding territory for sheer adventure. If much
harassed by settlers, he will move to a permanent home in lands far
distant. It would be comparatively easy for a grizzly to become
acquainted with four or five thousand miles of territory. He travels
rapidly, has endurance, and in a single night could cover a hundred
miles or more.
Some bears get the idea of territorial expansion and go forth to seize a
part of a neighbor's hunting-ground. Thus one bear may be annoyed by
another who makes too frequent raids into his domain, and feel called
upon to defend his territory against the invader. When past prime a bear
is sometimes driven forth into an unfriendly world by a young, vigorous
conqueror.
On one occasion I tracked a grizzly for sixty miles from the margin of
its home range. It traveled along a line that indicated it had a
definite place in mind to which it was going. It explored a cañon
region, and, a day or two later, as tracks in the snow showed, went back
to its old range along the trail it had followed in leaving it.
Going one autumn from Estes Park to North Park, Colorado, I came upon a
grizzly's track in the upper end of Forest Cañon. For several miles it
had followed an old wild-life trail. It crossed the Continental Divide,
then the No-Summer Mountains. From its trail I judged that it, too, knew
where it was going.
Had these bears gone to explore, to see the opportunities of a new
region? Or had they returned to old territory which they knew, perhaps
to obtain some particular kind of food, or just to have an outing? If
seeking new domains, it is possible that they would explore a number of
localities before selecting one.
In a few localities bears migrate in the spring and return home in the
fall. In these migrations the grizzly breaks his solitary custom and
travels in company. Most likely the bears happen to be on the same route
at the same time, and, like Pullman passengers, travel together without
speaking.
I saw eight grizzly bears one November traveling single file northward
from Middle Park. Back-tracking, I found that they had come from the
mountainous empire around the southern end of this park. They crossed
over into North Park in almost a straight line. Were they, I wondered,
heading for a new home, or was this an annual foraging affair? The
topography of the country traveled had some bearing on the common route
taken, but why were they traveling together? I heard of a number of
bears traveling together in northern New Mexico.
On one occasion a hunter on No-Wood Creek in the Big Horns saw seven old
grizzlies and two cubs together in the autumn. They were back-tracked to
the Yellowstone Park. The garbage-dumps in the Park are frequented by
neighboring bears and by numbers from outside the bounds of the Park.
As bears age, their teeth become broken and badly worn away. With
difficulty they manage to live. They are often handicapped through loss
of toes and by other injuries received in accidents and fights, and
through a weakening of faculties due to age. Their normal life appears
to be from thirty-five to fifty years.
In the mountains of the north of Yellowstone Park I came upon an
extremely old, hard-looking bear. I sat for some time within forty feet
of him, watching him rip an old log to pieces to get the ants and white
grubs. I was so close that I could see his tongue as it busily licked to
right and left. His red-looking eyes stared strangely. I think that he
must have been nearly blind, and also that he had nearly lost his
ability to scent. When I moved a little closer, he stopped eating, rose
up, sniffed the air queerly as though endeavoring to catch scent of me,
then listened and looked. He was not at all sure of my presence, though
looking in my direction. Two or three days later this old bear was
killed. Many of his teeth were gone, and others were badly worn away.
His claws were extremely blunt. His head and hide showed many
scars--marks of fights and marks from numerous bullets.
One February, when I was spending a few days with a prospector, he
brought home the interesting news that he had found a dead grizzly bear.
The bear evidently had died while hibernating. He was found curled up in
his den and frozen solid. He was old, in poor condition, and his insides
were swarming with vermin. I once found a fat young grizzly, apparently
healthy, who had the appearance of having frozen to death while
hibernating. The time was about the middle of January. The winter to
date had been extremely cold, and but little snow had fallen.
I have known of other grizzlies who met strange deaths, but, considering
the fairly numerous grizzly population at the time when I was wandering
the wilds, the number of bodies found is surprisingly small. One of
these grizzlies had perished in a forest fire, another in a desert
flood, one was killed at the foot of a cliff by a falling stone, and
another was crushed in a snow-slide. Just how or where most old
grizzlies come to an end, or what becomes of their bones, I have never
been able to learn. It may be that many of them die in the winter dens,
which cave in and bury the remains. In closing his adventurous career
the grizzly appears to conceal the trail to his last resting-place.