TREED BY A GRIZZLY.
The bear was one of the largest of his kind, but it was not so much his
size that impressed me with fear, as the knowledge of his fierce nature.
It is true, that personally I knew but little of the habits of the
animal, although this was not my first introduction to "old Ephraim,"
but from the tales of the Indians, I had learned enough to cause me to
feel certain that I was in deadly peril. When my eyes first rested on
the monster, he had just emerged from the thicket at the same point at
which Wakometkla had entered it. On reaching the open ground he advanced
a pace or two, and then halting, reared himself up and stood upon his
hind legs, at the same time uttering a sound which resembled the
"blowing" of hogs when suddenly startled in the forest. He remained in
this upright attitude for some moments, rubbing his head with his fore
paws and playing them about like a monkey; in fact, as he stood facing
me, he looked not unlike a gigantic ape. He was of a yellowish red
color, with legs and feet nearly black, but color is no characteristic
among these animals, scarce two of them being alike in this particular.
To say that I was not terrified by the arrival of this unwelcome
intruder, would be to state an untruth. I was frightened, horribly
frightened, and with good reason. To suppose that he would not attack me
would have been absurd; I knew that in nine cases out of ten, the
grizzly bear is the assailant; that no animal in America will willingly
engage in combat with him, and that man himself shuns the encounter,
unless well mounted, and even then, the prudent hunter always gives "old
Ephraim," as the "mountain men" call him, a "wide berth," and rides on
without interfering with him, unless the ground is perfectly open, so
that his horse is not likely to be impeded.
The white hunter considers the killing of a grizzly bear a feat of
prowess equal to the destruction of _two_ Indians; while to the Indian,
the destruction of one of these animals is one of the greatest feats in
his life's history. Among Indian braves, a necklace of bear's claws is a
badge of honor, since they can only be worn by a man who has himself
slain the animals from which they have been taken. On the contrary, the
grizzly bear fears no antagonist; he attacks the largest animals on
sight. The moose, the elk, the buffalo, or wild horse, if caught is
instantly killed. A blow from his paw will lay open the flesh as if
gashed with an axe, and he can drag the body of a full grown buffalo, to
almost any distance. He rushes upon man without the slightest
hesitation, and frequently a dozen hunters will retreat at his approach.
Nearly twenty bullets have on some occasions been fired into the body of
a grizzly, without killing him, and only a shot through the brain or
heart is certainly mortal.
With such sanguinary fierceness of disposition and extraordinary
tenacity of life, it is no wonder the grizzly bear is a creature to be
dreaded. Had he the swiftness of the lion or tiger, his haunts would be
inapproachable by man, and he would be a far more terrible assailant
than either. Fortunately, however, he is slow compared with the horse,
although he can easily outrun a man, and there is another peculiarity
about him, which detracts somewhat from the danger of an encounter with
this savage beast, he is not a _tree climber_, and many a life has been
saved by this circumstance; for although he does not affect the forest,
there is usually some timber in the vicinity of his haunts, and in many
instances his intended victim has saved himself by taking refuge in a
tree.
Knowing well, by hearsay, all these facts, you can easily imagine my
feelings, at finding myself face to face with one of these fierce
animals, alone and without weapons, save my bow and arrows and knife. It
is true, there was abundance of timber near at hand, but unfortunately
the bear was decidedly nearer to me than any tree of sufficient size to
promise a safe refuge. On lying down, I had, without thought, placed
myself in the very center of the clearing, and I found myself at least
one hundred yards from any of the larger trees; the bear had approached
before halting, to within about eighty yards, and stood watching me,
apparently surprised at our rencontre. Without doubt he would overtake
me before I could reach and ascend a tree, and I was fairly bewildered
by the utter helplessness of my situation.
These reflections occupy many minutes of your time to _read_; I
_thought_ them in as many seconds. Indeed, I had not time to form a plan
of either defense or escape, when my antagonist, evidently concluding
that I was fair game, dropped upon all fours, uttered a loud roar and
rushed upon me with open mouth; simultaneously, I turned and fled with
all my speed.
Before I had covered half the distance that separated me from the tree
towards which I had directed my flight, he was almost at my heels, and I
had about determined to stop and engage in the desperate conflict that
seemed inevitable, when his attention was attracted by an object in his
path, and although the halt he made was but momentary, it enabled me to
gain some ground, and I ran on with redoubled speed. The object in
question was none other than the carcass of the "big horn," which lay
fresh and bloody, rolled up in the skin, directly in my line of flight.
The bear pawed it over, snatched a hasty mouthful, and then resumed the
pursuit; but his brief hesitation had been my salvation, and I had
reached the tree which I had selected before he could overtake me. My
climbing experience gained during my expeditions with Wakometkla, now
stood me in good stead, and I "shinned" up the tree with the agility of
a monkey. I had no time to spare, however, for my ursine friend reached
the base of the tree before I had ascended far enough to be entirely out
of reach, and rearing up, succeeded in getting a slight hold of my right
foot. I clung to the tree with the desperation of despair, and the
moccasin giving way, I soon drew myself above his reach, with no other
injury than a severe scratch. In a few seconds I was safely ensconced
among the branches, about thirty feet from the ground, while my baffled
antagonist was walking round and round it, uttering growls of rage, and
stripping the bark from the tree with his terrible claws.
During my hasty flight I had slung my bow across my back, and had
fortunately preserved it safely. My quiver, well filled with arrows,
being attached to my person by a belt, I was well supplied with
ammunition; and thinking it about time to commence offensive operations,
I secured myself to the tree with strips of leather cut from my shoulder
belt, and commenced trying my skill as an archer, with the bear as a
living and movable target. Owing to my cramped position in the tree, my
aim was necessarily uncertain, and many of my shafts went wide of the
mark; still, I did succeed in hitting the brute several times, but with
no other effect than to increase his rage and apparent determination to
watch until he should tire me out, and overcome by fatigue or sleep, I
might fall from the tree, and thus become an easy victim. Seeing this, I
desisted after a while, and settled myself down to wait as patiently as
I might for him to tire of his watch, or for relief of some sort to
arrive. Perhaps an hour had elapsed when I heard a noise on the opposite
side of the clearing, and on looking in that direction I saw Wakometkla
just emerging from the woods. The bear saw him at the same instant, and
abandoning his post of sentinel, rushed towards his new enemy. The old
Indian waited long enough to discharge three or four arrows with great
rapidity, and then ascended the nearest tree with a rapidity quite
surprising in a man of his age and build. Two of his shots had taken
effect--that is, they had hit the bear; but they caused no diminution of
his energy or fierceness. He rushed to the base of the tree, and vented
his rage in stripping the bark from its trunk. Finding that his intended
prey had escaped him, he soon desisted from this occupation, and
returning to the carcass of the "big horn," began devouring it, at the
same time keeping a constant watch upon our movements, so as to preclude
the possibility of our slipping away. In spite of the uncomfortable
nature of our position, I could not help laughing at the ludicrous
picture we presented, perched in the trees like a couple of monkeys,
hardly daring to move lest we might lose our hold and tumble into the
clutches of our unpleasant neighbor. The bear soon finished his repast,
indeed it was but a mouthful to an animal of his size and appetite, and
he commenced walking back and forth between the two trees in which we
were severally ensconced, evidently trying to form some plan by which he
could get at us. But his cogitations apparently resulted in nothing; and
in fact, we were not at all disturbed as to the probability of his being
able to reach us. We knew that we were perfectly safe in our lofty
retreat, but how long we might have to remain there was another matter,
and _I_ for one was decidedly wearied of my airy prison. I knew that no
search would be made for us for several days, as we frequently remained
absent two or three days at a time when on these expeditions. Our only
hope was that our self-appointed jailor might weary of the task he had
set himself, or be compelled to go in search of food or water; and in
that case we could improve the opportunity, and get out of reach without
difficulty. For hour after hour, however, he kept up his sentinel-like
tramp from tree to tree; at times varying the monotony of his
proceedings by frantic attacks upon their trunks. The tree to which I
had retreated was not more than eighteen inches in diameter, and I was
not without fear at one time that he would succeed in demolishing it
altogether, and bringing me "down by the run." I was not destined,
however, to find out whether he was able to accomplish that feat or not,
for after tearing away at it for a while, and making the splinters fly
in a rather alarming manner, he seemed to tire of it, and resumed his
patrolling between the two trees.
The day had worn away to near its close, and I was contemplating the
unpleasant prospect before me of passing the night in my very
uncomfortable quarters, when the sound of hoof-strokes reached my ears.
Looking out through the opening, upon the plain, I saw a party of about
a dozen Indians riding leisurely up the valley, evidently one of the
hunting parties on their return. They were nearly a mile from our
position, but in these elevated regions sounds can be heard at almost
incredible distances, and I at once shouted at the top of my voice, to
attract their attention. Wakometkla did the same, and we were evidently
heard, for they halted for a moment, and after a glance in our
direction, galloped towards us. As they neared us I expected to see the
bear take himself off without ceremony, but to my surprise, he showed no
signs of such an intention. On the contrary, when they had passed about
half the distance at first separating us, he advanced to the edge of the
plain and stood as if inviting attack. The Indians rode up to within a
few rods of the grizzly, and then seeing us in our haven of safety they
realized the situation at a glance, and burst into uproarious laughter.
This seemed to irritate the grizzly, for he uttered a roar of rage and
rushed fiercely at them; then ensued an exciting and amusing scene.
The Indians at first used only the lasso, and in a few seconds three or
four of them had "roped him," and by spurring up their horses, he was
dragged first one way and then another, making frantic efforts to free
himself, and growling savagely all the while. Meanwhile the other
horsemen rode up as near as safety would permit, and fairly riddled him
with arrows. Overcome by superior numbers, "old Eph," at length
succumbed to his fate, and a few lance thrusts soon put an end to his
existence.
Wakometkla and myself quickly descended from our tree fortresses and
joined the party, who greeted us with exclamations expressive of
satisfaction, at having rescued us from our unpleasant predicament: The
bear was soon skinned and cut up, and we returned to the village with
our rescuers. As far as I was concerned, I felt fully satisfied with my
experience as an interviewer of grizzly bears, and had no desire to
repeat it, for although hunting the bear may be a pleasing pastime, it
is not quite so pleasing when the bear _hunts_ you.
However, "all's well that ends well," and if this narrative affords my
readers any amusement, I shall never regret my day spent in a tree top.