Part 18

"DEATH OF A DISTINGUISHED NATIVE CALIFORNIAN

"Ben Franklin, the grizzly bear, the favorite of the Museum man, Adams, the companion for the last three or four years of his various expeditions in the mountains and his sojourns in the cities and towns of California, departed from this mortal existence on Sunday evening, at 10 o'clock. The noble brute, which was captured at the head-waters of the Merced River in 1854, had been raised by his master from a cub, and during his life manifested the most indubitable indications of remarkable sagacity and affection. He was ever tame and gentle, and although possessed of the size and strength of a giant among brutes, was in disposition peaceful; rough it is true, in his playfulness, but always well disposed. He frequently carried his master's pack, provisions and weapons; frequently shared his blanket and fed from the same loaf.

"One of his eyes was observed to be injured and several scars were to be seen about his head and neck; but they were honorable wounds and reflected as much credit upon poor Ben as the scars of a brave soldier. They were all received in the service of his human friend, protector and master. As might be supposed his loss has been severely felt by Adams."

MISS JIM AND MR. BESSIE

During many years in the West, Mr. Philip A. Rollins was an accurate and sympathetic observer of the grizzly bear. He knew him in various localities, and saw him under countless conditions. He hunted him with a gun and then without a gun. He raised grizzlies, kindly and intelligently. He is one of the highest authorities on the grizzly. He kindly wrote for me the following from his personal experience:--

"To one who knows and loves bears, Enos A. Mills, from one who loves them, Philip A. Rollins.

"One summer day, now almost thirty years ago, a cowboy, hunting from our Wyoming ranch, killed a female grizzly bear. Her two attendant cubs were brought to the ranch by the cowboy, an operation which decreased the value of his clothing, and lessened the quantity of his skin. The names of Jim and Bessie, hastily bestowed as the party, in part hauling and swearing, and in part twisting and growling, made its arrival, were, for the sake of accuracy, later changed to Miss Jim and Mr. Bessie.

"The youngsters were presently introduced to their sleeping quarters in the 'bear parlor,' an enclosure connecting with the main room of the ranch house by a doorway usually closed only with several curtains of heavy felt. Five black bears had their abode in the 'bear parlor' when the little grizzlies registered their advent--a registration effected by clawing and biting everybody and everything within reach. After a few days marked by pandemonium and the enticements of very frequent meals, Miss Jim and Mr. Bessie were the dictators of all the black bears and the friends of all the men; of all the men, save one,--he could not refrain from teasing. Months passed; the little grizzlies increased in strength. The teasing continued. One day a visiting surgeon set three ribs and an arm.

"Except for this research into human anatomy, nothing untoward happened until the end of four years. Meanwhile the two grizzlies had, at all times, come and gone at will into and out of the ranch house; had, whenever they desired, tidbits supplemental to their food; attended the ranch meals, perched in orderly fashion on a bench at the foot of the dining-table; and, after the first six months, made any excursion they wished, being absent from the ranch sometimes for several successive days, going thus either alone or as the companions of whatever man might have occasion to travel across country. These trips not infrequently made them adjuncts of a fishing-party, and on such occasions they were always content with their toll of the first four fish caught--two fish for each bear.

"No attempt was ever made to exact from the bears the performance of tricks. They were treated from the outset in the same manner as one would treat a well-trained hunting hound, save that special care was taken that they should be fed before approaching either the men's dining-table in the ranch house or the lunching group of a fishing-party. On their bench at the foot of the dining-table, they never were indecorous, never snatched at any food, but would sit in dignified silence until called by name. Upon the sound of its name, the invited bear would lumber down to the floor, shuffle along to the chair of the inviter, and, having been given and somewhat gently received, the promised confection, would promptly return to its seat. It is true that the returning bear would not infrequently in passing, give playful, if vigorous, pokes into the bodies of its fellows, but none of the blows were aimed at or reached a human being.

"The grizzlies were true companions, for they had all the affectionate faithfulness of the best of dogs, intelligence far beyond that of any horse, and endless sense of humor. As to intelligence, they repeatedly used their brains in a manner which perhaps is best exemplified by the following instance of another grizzly which I watched years ago: An animal which, discovering a half-filled food-can, and prevented by the semi-closed lid from touching the contents, takes a stone between its paws and smashes the lid, has claim to brains, even if that animal be only a bear.

"I have said that nothing untoward happened during the four years. On second thought, an untoward event did occur. One November, a quantity of freshly preserved blueberries had been obtained from the East. These berries were transformed into twenty-four large deep-dish pies, one for each man on the ranch. On the date of the anticipated feast, an entertainment at a neighboring camp depopulated the house, but did not degrizzly its environs. In the early evening of that day, the house was approached by a file of men, pie-bent, expectant, joyous. Two house logs pulled from without doors, bear-tracks done upon the snow in vivid blue, forewarned that twenty-four pies had passed into history.

"At the end of the four years, Miss Jim fell victim to poison, whether set for her or for wolves we never knew. Presently Mr. Bessie was once more teased, this time by a visiting ranchman. After the ranchman had been reassembled and revived, it was decided that the bear must be done for. He should not be killed. That smacked of murder. He should not be caged in a zoölogical garden. He had not sinned according to bear law. Accordingly it was agreed that he should be lost. He was led two hundred miles from the ranch and bidden to go his way. His return to the ranch preceded that of his keeper by eight hours. He was led to the mountains of Idaho, and the duration of his return journey not improbably is still the minimum record for that course. Finally two admirers conducted him to Oregon and there parted with him forever. The last view disclosed a cheerful expression as he contemplated two hams tied to a tree, partly for purposes of strategy and partly as a parting gift."

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A real acquaintance with the grizzly bear appears to fill every one with admiration for him. Mr. William H. Wright, quoted elsewhere in this book, understood the grizzly thoroughly. His comprehensive book, "The Grizzly Bear," is dedicated with these words:--

"WITH THE RESPECT, ADMIRATION AND AFFECTION OF THE AUTHOR, TO THE NOBLEST WILD ANIMAL OF NORTH AMERICA, THE GRIZZLY BEAR."

New Environments

A rock fell from a high cliff and struck upon solid granite near a grizzly whom I was watching. There was a terrific crash and roar. Unmindful of the flying fragments and pieces bounding near, the grizzly reared up and pressed fore paws over his ears. Just as he was uncovering them the echo came thundering and booming back from a cliff across the lake. Again he hastily covered his ears with his paws to soften the ear-bursting crash.

On another occasion a wounded bear took refuge in a small thicket where the hunter was unable to get a shot at him. After failing to force the bear into the open, the hunter gave a wild, ear-splitting yell. With a growl of pain the bear at once chained furiously through the thicket toward the hunter.

A grizzly has supersensitive ears, and loud, harsh sounds give his nerves a harrowing shock. Through his higher development the grizzly probably suffers more intensely and enjoys more fully than other animals. The clashing city noises must be a never-ending irritation and torture to a bear who has been sentenced to end his days in a riotous environment. How he must yearn for the hush of the wilderness! And, as his sense of smell is also amazingly developed, perhaps he longs for a whiff of pine-spiced air and the wild, exquisite perfume of the violets.

Experience in many zoos has shown that subjecting caged grizzlies to close contact with people is usually cruelty to animals. Often they become cross, and a number of crowd-worried grizzlies have died prematurely from resultant apoplexy. Modern zoo bear-pens are constructed so that the bear is beyond the wiles of visitors--so that he can have much privacy--one of the needs of any grizzly. Perhaps we too often think of the bulky grizzly as being coarse and crude. But he is an animal of the highest type, sensitive, independent, and retiring. The normal bear is good-tempered and cheerful.

A grizzly placed in new environment in association with men will respond happily only to considerate handling and proper feeding. Tell me what a bear is fed and how, and I will tell you what the bear is--his disposition and health. A grizzly should be fed by no one except his keeper. If any one and every one feed a bear, he is likely to receive food that he ought not to eat and to have it given in a manner annoying to him. Feeding is the vital consideration for grizzly pets, for grizzlies in zoos, and for grizzlies in National Parks.

When I arrived in Colorado, in 1884, grizzlies were still common throughout the mountain areas of the State. They were numerous in a few rugged sections where there were but few people and plenty of food. In the Long's Peak region around my cabin, I early discovered the tracks of five grizzlies. One or two missing toes or some other peculiarity enabled me to determine the number. Two of these bears ranged near, and I had frequent glimpses of them.

During the autumn of one year, 1893 as I remember, I crossed the mountains between Trapper's Lake and Long's Peak. Snow covered most of the ground. During the eight days which this trip occupied I must have seen the tracks of between forty and forty-five grizzlies. I counted the tracks of eleven in one half-day. But grizzlies decreased in numbers rapidly. Numerous hunters came into the State annually. Stockmen and settlers hunted grizzlies for fun and for their hides, and professional hunters for revenue. Altogether, the grizzly had little chance for his life, and only a few survived.

In the settlement of the West many of the grizzlies had to go. Men came in with flocks of sheep and herds of cattle. The grizzlies' food was taken or driven off. Rarely did a grizzly kill any of the invading stock. Usually he worked harder for a living and took things philosophically. Many grizzlies were killed and a few sought homes elsewhere. But in the West there are still many wild regions, and in these there is room for the grizzly.

There is a wonderful unwritten story of the making of an empire--the Yellowstone--into a wildlife reservation. Big game had long been hunted in this region. The grizzly bear, since his discovery, had been relentlessly pursued; man with every conceivable contrivance was on his trail day and night; there was no quarter and no hope for peace. But suddenly firing ceased and pursuit stopped. This was epoch-marking. "What can it mean?" the grizzlies must have instantly asked. They must have asked it over and over again. But they quickly accepted it as a fact and as an advantage, and came forth to associate peacefully with man.

This has made a change worth while for man. Since shooting has stopped, thousands have seen the grizzly and enjoyed him where only one saw him before.

The grizzly is easily the most popular animal in the National Parks. He really is the greatest animal on the continent. The grizzly walks: there is a dignity, a lordliness of carriage, and an indifference to all the world that impress themselves on the attention. Some one speaks quietly to him: he halts, stands on hind legs, and shows a childlike eagerness of interest in his expressive face. His attitude and responsiveness are most companionable and never fail to awake the best in every one who sees him in these moments.