Part 15

Another time, in the Yellowstone, while I was sleeping out, a big grizzly who had followed me all day came to give me closer inspection. I was awakened by his lightly clawing my bed. I opened my eyes and watched him for some seconds and lay perfectly still while he sniffed me over. After several seconds of this he appeared to have satisfied his curiosity and walked quietly away beneath the stars.

As I was trying to flash information with a looking-glass from Mount Lincoln to a prospector down in the valley one day, a grizzly became attracted by the flashes and lay down to watch them circle and shimmer here and there. In the San Juan Mountains a prospector once lost a wheel from a rude cart which he was hauling up a steep, roadless slope. As the detached wheel went bounding down and across the bottom of the gulch, a grizzly hit an attitude of attention and watched it. He became excited as it leaped and rushed up the opposite slope, and when it rolled over he approached cautiously to see what manner of thing it might be. A grizzly sat down on his haunches to watch the uncertain movements of an umbrella which had taken advantage of a wind-storm to desert a mountain-top artist. He observed the disheveled umbrella with the greatest enjoyment as it danced across the moorland, and was particularly interested when a whirl sent it high into the air.

Riding a lazy pony slowly, silently, along a trail in the San Juan Mountains, I came close upon a grizzly and three cubs. They aroused the deep emotional nature of my pony. He took on new and fiery life, and in his eagerness to reach a high mountain across the cañon he forgot all about the topography--the cañon that lay deep between. While he was standing on one hind foot on the edge of the cañon I leaped from the saddle. The old bear and cubs, forgetting all possible danger, while he was thus performing stood up to watch the entire exhibition.

A grizzly keeps an eye on near-by animals, often without appearing to do so. But if the animal is doing something new or unusual he gives it his entire attention. Two bears, side by side, are interested in the same thing; yet the individuality of each will show if you watch them a minute. Of course, all bears are not equally curious about the same thing, but seldom do I recall outwitting a bear even when appealing to his curiosity, and never could I class him as stupid.

Grizzlies in regions just invaded by white men appear to have put in much time trying to make out what these strange creatures were about. What man is doing is ever of first importance to the long-lived grizzly. His interest in his surroundings appears to be greater than that of the average person. At any rate, the grizzly shows better knowledge of the habits of human beings than people have of the habits of bears.

His is not the curiosity of the idle; the grizzly is not prying into the affairs of others for mere pastime, but is concerned only so far as these affairs may benefit or harm him. His is the intelligent curiosity of a mind seeking facts. Most of the time he leads a solitary life; he rarely exchanges ideas or information with other bears. Most animals live in pairs or flocks and, each gathering information for all, they divide sentinel duty; but single-handed the grizzly must get the news, must scout for himself. He is ever on the watch, does nothing blindly, and he simply must understand.

Any unusual occurrence arouses a grizzly's curiosity, and is to him "a word to the wise." His success lies in constant alertness. He might well be likened to a frontiersman; he has that painstaking vigilance, that untiring energy, which seeks to discover whether this strange track, sound, or displacement is the camouflage which conceals the enemy or if it be a clue which will lead to something of advantage. He at once endeavors to find out all that may be learned about it.

The grizzly bear may have inherited a love for exploration. His ancestors were adventurers, coming to this continent from Asia. The natural attraction which the new and unusual has for him may generally be gratified in his curiosity about things at home. But we may readily imagine that the grizzly must sometimes become restless when there is nothing stirring near by, when he finds no excitement in his home territory, and so wanders like an explorer to seek discoveries in far-off scenes. He is innately an adventurer; he seeks adventure and often finds it. His curiosity does not allow him to live in a rut--to live contentedly with old conditions. He is always learning; he keeps alive and growing.

The grizzly bear simply cannot be understood, nor half understood, if his curiosity is not considered. Notice a grizzly bear pet, observe a grizzly in a zoo, watch both the cubs and the old grizzlies in the Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks. They walk about like superior animals, which they are. Those in parks ever notice any sudden movement, any new figure in the foreground, and detect any unusual noise that comes from far away behind the woods. The grizzly bear and the scout are masters of woodcraft through intensive observation. Behind the word curiosity the grizzly bear has put a world of meaning.

The wild grizzly shows a deeper feeling for the scenes, the sounds, and the movements around him than any other animal that I have watched. Sometimes, while thus interested, he sits on haunches like a dog, again he stands on all fours, at other times he stands on hind feet, tiptoe, and, on rare occasions, he sits on his tail with fore paws against his breast, perhaps leaning against something. Once in a while he gives full attention while lying down.

When looking at scenery and sunsets, his appearance is one of enjoyment; he appears to have feeling in the conscious presence of that which we call beautiful or glorious. I have seen a grizzly looking at a magnificent and many-colored sunset, completely absorbed. There was no fear at a flash of lightning or the roar and echoing roll of thunder. Once I saw a grizzly turn to stare at the course of a shooting star; another gazed for seconds at a brilliant rainbow.

Generally the grizzly's attention to these demonstrations rose superior to commonplace curiosity; he looked long, he listened closely, he was absorbed, and he appeared to feel as he sat lost in wonder. Had he been a child, with the power of speech, he certainly would have asked questions. Often his expression, his attitude, indicated that he was saying to himself: "What was that? What caused it? Where did that noise come from? What are those strange shadows running from, and how can they move without a sound?"

On the Defensive

In the grizzly bear we have the leading animal of North America, and one who might well be put at the head of the wild life of the earth. He has brain and brawn. He is self-contained and is prepared for anything. He makes an impressive appearance. He looks capable. He has bulk, agility, strength, endurance, repose, courage, enthusiasm, and curiosity. He is a masterful fighter if forced to defend himself.

But, a century ago, fifty years ago, or to-day, one could ramble the grizzly's territory in safety--unless attempting to kill a grizzly. The grizzly objects to being killed. If he is surprised or crowded so that he sees no escape, if the cubs are in danger or the mother thinks they are, or if the bear is wounded, there will be a fight or a retreat; and the grizzly will not be the one retreating. Almost every animal--wild or domestic--will fight if cornered or if he thinks himself cornered.

Before the days of the repeating rifle the grizzly boldly wandered over his domain as absolute master; there was nothing for him to fear; not an aggressive foe existed. But, being ever curious, he hastened to examine whatever interested him. The novel outfit of Lewis and Clark, which appears to have attracted unusual attention even from frontier people, must naturally have aroused the highest pitch of interest in the numbers of bears congregated in places along the river. There were boats of odd type,--some with sails,--strange cargoes, men in picturesque accoutrements, and even a colored man. The frequent close approaches which the bears made in trying to satisfy their curiosity caused Lewis and Clark to think them ferocious.

But is the grizzly bear ferocious? All the firsthand evidence I can find says he is not. Speaking from years of experience with him my answer is emphatically, "No!" Nearly every one whom a grizzly has killed went out with the special intention of killing a grizzly. The majority of people who hold the opinion that he is not ferocious are those who have studied him without attempting to kill him; while the majority who say that he is ferocious are those who have killed or attempted to kill him.

During the greater part of my life I have lived in a grizzly bear region. I have camped for months alone and without a gun in their territory. I have seen them when alone and when with hunters, in Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Mexico, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Washington, British Columbia, and Alaska. I have spent weeks trailing and watching grizzlies, and their tracks in the snow showed that they often trailed me. They frequently came close, and there were times when they might have attacked me with every advantage. But they did not do so. As they never made any attack on me, nor on any one else that I know of who was not bent on killing them, I can only conclude that they are not ferocious.

Once I was running down a Wyoming mountainside, leaping fallen fire-killed timber, when suddenly I surprised a grizzly by landing within a few feet of him. He leaped up and struck at me with sufficient force to have almost cut me in two had the blow landed. Then he instantly fled. This, however, was not ferocity. Plainly he thought himself attacked and struck in self-defense.

There are many naturalists and frontiersmen who affirm from first-hand experience that the grizzly is not ferocious, and following are given a number of quotations from a few of these men.

John Muir, who spent about forty years in the wilderness home of the grizzly bear, from 1868 to 1912, usually camped alone and never carried firearms. He has repeatedly called attention in his books to the wilderness as a place of safety, and has mentioned that grizzly bears are masters in attending to their own affairs; also that bears have effectively suggested to wilderness visitors to do likewise. In "Our National Parks" Muir says:--

"In my first interview with a Sierra bear we were frightened and embarrassed, both of us, but the bear's behavior was better than mine.... After studying his appearance as he stood at rest, I rushed forward to frighten him, that I might study his gait in running. But, contrary to all I had heard about the shyness of bears, he did not run at all; and when I stopped short within a few steps of him, as he held his ground in a fighting attitude, my mistake was monstrously plain. I was put on my good behavior, and never afterwards forgot the right manners of the wilderness."

Muir also says, in "Steep Trails":--

"There are bears in the woods, but not in such numbers nor of such unspeakable ferocity as town-dwellers imagine, nor do bears spend their lives in going about the country like the devil, seeking whom they may devour. Oregon bears, like most others, have no liking for man either as meat or as society; and while some may be curious at times to see what manner of creature he is, most of them have learned to shun people as deadly enemies."

Mr. William H. Wright spent most of his time from 1883 to 1908 as a hunter of wild animals, and especially as a hunter of the grizzly. In addition to being an observer of exceptional care while hunting and trapping, he spent some years in photographing grizzlies. He first studied them in order to hunt them successfully; then laid aside his rifle and hunted them to study them. From full acquaintance with the grizzly Mr. Wright declares that he is not ferocious. He offers the following comment concerning his curiosity--a trait which early explorers mistook for ferocity:--

"We know now that the grizzly is chock-full of curiosity, and that one of his habits is to follow up any trail that puzzles or interests him, be it of man or beast. This trait has been noted and misconstrued by many.... So often have I seen this curiosity and proved it to be innocent that I have no fear whatever of these animals when indulging in this weakness of theirs. Time and again I have allowed one to approach within a few yards of me, and no calm observer who had watched a bear defying his own caution to satisfy his own inquisitiveness could mistake the nature of his approach."

Drummond, the botanist, had numerous experiences with grizzlies in the Rocky Mountains in 1826. He was familiar with their curiosity. He says that often they came close and stood up to look at him. But if he made a noise with his specimen-box, or "even waved his hand," they ran away.

James Capen Adams hunted and trapped big game from 1849 to 1859 in California and along the Pacific Coast. He captured numerous grizzlies, both old and young, and literally domesticated them. He discusses their characteristics at length. He knew them intimately, and in summing them up after years of close association he says of the grizzly, "He did not invite combat."