Part 9

"The period of hibernation in any mammal not only varies in a given species, but is largely influenced by the available supply of food to which it is accustomed or that is necessary for its requirements.

"Examples of this character may be cited among several species of mammals. It is the custom of the chipmunks, or 'ground squirrels,' to hoard up at least a partial supply of food in the autumn for consumption during the winter months; but this is rarely, if ever, sufficient to keep these interesting little animals active for the entire period. In most localities, there is no available food with which to augment their scant store and they are never in evidence from late October to April. In other locations where the fruit of the Cratægus, or 'thorn apple,' is to be had, they may be seen almost daily, although the ground may be covered with several feet of snow and low temperatures prevail.

"Another example is the opossum. Ordinarily these animals are active throughout the entire year, but towards the northern edge of their range they frequently hibernate for considerable periods (thirty-one days from personal observations).

"Certain of the small rodents can, and probably do, hoard sufficient food for actual need during the winter months; but the problem is in direct ratio to the size of the animal. Hence we find the marmot, a much larger animal, making no provision, although his habitat is confined to the higher altitudes and his period of hibernation is extended over a greater length of time than many other species. His food consists wholly of grass and other green plants, and it is doubtful if he could subsist on dry food. Granting that he could, the amount required would be prohibitive, otherwise he would make some effort in that direction, as do the conies, a much smaller animal.

"Being omnivorous and of great size, a bear could not secure or preserve the necessary amount of food to carry him through five months. Such food could not consist of any variety other than vegetation, and he is not a 'hay' eater, and so, nature has provided him a means of surviving the long period of fasting and probably, without discomfort.

"It is well known that bears show a distinct preference for fruit during the late summer and autumn months. Not because that is the season for the various fruits, but through a need of their sugar content and its fattening qualities. Composed largely of juices which are quickly absorbed, the digestive process is very brief and the discarded residue is discharged at once. This may give rise to the belief that a purgative has been employed as a means of cleansing the bowels and explains the presence of unbroken berries in the excrement and the absence of offensive odors. As a means of exploding the purgative theory we need only refer to bears in captivity. Although the latter may be confined to cement floors and have no access to any matter whatever, other than the food regularly supplied, they frequently hibernate in a quite orderly manner.

"It must be conceded that bears are irregular in the period of 'holing up' and that they do so only when food has become too scarce to sustain activities without a drain upon the store of fat they have acquired; or during very severe weather. In the mean time there has been a gradual reduction in food as the period of hibernation approaches and a consequent lessened activity of the bowels. Nor is there reason for surprise because of the absence of excrement in the burrow and the presence of matter in the rectum when the bear emerges in the spring.

"In captivity bears may, or may not, hibernate. As a rule they 'sleep' for more or less varying periods during severe weather. One authority states the grizzly has been known to sleep from sixty to seventy-five days and during that time it was not difficult to awaken him. Black bears frequently pass the winter without evidence of even drowsiness. Others awake at irregular intervals, and after feeding lightly, return to their slumber."

The winter life of many animals is stern and strange. During the autumn the beaver stores up a food-supply for use when the pond is closed over with ice. The cony harvests hay for his winter food. Numbers of animals hunt food each day in the snow. But the woodchuck and the bear hibernate, that is, they fast and sleep in a den during the winter.

Being Good to Bears

On the slope of Long's Peak one June morning I came upon two tiny grizzly bear cubs. Each was about the size of a cottontail rabbit--a lively little ball of fur, dark gray, almost black, in color.

Knowing that their mother had recently been killed, I thought I would capture them and bring them up properly. But they did not want to be brought up properly! We had a lively chase, dodging among the bowlders and trees. Cornering them at last among the fallen logs, I grabbed one. He did the same to me. His teeth were as sharp as needles and almost as sharp were his lively claws. It was some time before I could tear myself loose. He kept a mouthful of my trousers. At last I deposited the fighting little fellow in the bottom of a sack. The other cub scratched and chewed me up and tore my clothes; but I forced it also into the sack. Two grizzly bears in the same sack! any one should have known better!

I started to conduct them personally to my cabin, two miles away. In descending a steep moraine with the sack over my shoulder I slipped and shook the sack more than any sack should have been shaken that contained two bears. Of course, they started to fight. One bit through the sack and bit the wrong bear. I finally reached my cabin with a long pole over my shoulder. Tied to the south end of the pole was a sack full of grizzly bears.

I shook the cubs out of the sack in front of a basin of milk and thrust their faces deeply into it. Not having eaten for three days, they were "as hungry as bears" and needed no explanation concerning the milk. They had eager, cunning little faces, and were pets before sundown. In twenty-four hours Jenny knew that her name was Jenny, and Johnny that his was Johnny. After a few days they followed me about with fondness and loyalty.

These bears responded to kind treatment and were of cheerful disposition. I made it a point never to annoy or tease them. The grizzly bear is an exceedingly sensitive animal, and annoyances or cruelty make him cross. Once in addressing an audience concerning wild life I made the statement that bears would be good to us if we were good to them. A small boy instantly asked, "What do you do to be good to bears?" The health and the temper of bears, as well as of people, are easily ruined by improper food.

Young bear cubs are the most wide-awake and observing little people that I know of. Never have I seen a horse or dog who understood as readily or learned as rapidly as these two bears. One day I offered Johnny a saucer of milk. He was impatient to get it. Reaching up, he succeeded in spilling it, but he licked the saucer with satisfaction. On the second try he spilled only a part of the milk. On the third trial he clasped the saucer deftly in his two fore paws, lifted it upwards, turned his head back and poured the milk into his mouth.

When Johnny and Jenny were growing up, it seemed as if nothing unusual escaped them. A bright button, a flash of a ring, a white handkerchief, or an unusual movement or sound instantly caught their attention. They concentrated on each new object and endeavored to find out what it was. Having satisfied their curiosity or obtained full information about it, the next instant they were ready to concentrate on something else. But they remembered on second appearance anything which had especially interested them at any time. They learned through careful observation.

For a time they were not chained and had the freedom of the yard. Never have I seen two young animals more intense, more playful, or more energetic. They played alone, they mauled each other by the hour, and occasionally they scrapped. Sometimes we ran foot-races. From a scratch upon the ground, at the word "go," we would race down hill about one hundred and fifty yards. They were eager for these races and always ready to line up with me. They were so speedy that in every race they merrily turned around at least twice to see if I was coming, and in those days I was not slow.

Johnny and Jenny enjoyed playing with people, with any one who did not annoy them. Among the strangers who came was a man who made friends at once and had a good romp. When he left them and went to lunch, Johnny and Jenny followed and lay down near the door where he had disappeared. As he came out, they rose up and started another romp.

To attract my attention or to ask for something to eat, Johnny or Jenny would stand on hind legs and hold out fore paws like an orator. If I came around the corner of the house a quarter of a mile away, they instantly stood on tiptoe and gesticulated with enthusiasm. They were the life of my home, and occasionally almost the death of it.

It was almost impossible to get these cubs filled up. They ate everything,--scraps from the table, rhubarb, dandelions, bitter sage, and bark,--but they were especially fond of apples. If I approached with meat and honey upon a plate but with apples or turnips in my pockets, they would ignore the plate and, clinching me, thrust their noses into my pockets to find the promised treat.

One August evening I brought in a cluster of wild raspberries for Johnny and Jenny. While still more than a hundred feet from the cabin, both bears leaped to their feet, scented the air, and came racing to meet me with more than their ordinary enthusiasm. No child of frontier parents could have shown more interest in a candy package on the father's return from the city than did Johnny and Jenny in those berries.

A number of people were waiting in my cabin to see me. The little bears and I crowded in. I handed Jenny a berry-laden spray, and then one to Johnny, alternating until they were equally divided. Standing erect, each held the cluster under the left forearm by pressing it against the chest. When browsing in a raspberry-patch bears commonly bite off the tops of the canes together with the leaves and the berries. Johnny and Jenny ate more daintily. One berry was plucked off at a time with two front claws and dropped into the mouth. As one berry followed another, the lips were smacked, and the face and every movement made expressed immense satisfaction at the taste.

Every one crowded close to watch the performance. In the jostling one of the berry-laden canes fell to the floor. Both little bears grabbed for it at the same instant. They butted heads, lost their temper, and began to fight over it. I grabbed them by the collars and shook them.

"Why, Johnny and Jenny," I said, "why do you do this? And such awful manners when we have company! What shall I do with you?"

They instantly stopped quarreling and even forgot the berries. For several seconds the little bears were embarrassed beyond all measure. They simply stared at the floor. Then suddenly each appeared to have the same idea. Standing erect, facing each other, they put fore paws on each other's shoulders, and went "Ungh, ah, oooo." Plainly they were very sorry that they had misbehaved.

The manner in which these cubs received the berries, the fact that the first time they saw mushrooms they scented them at some distance and raced for them, also that on other occasions they went out of their way to get a plant ordinarily liked by the grizzly, led me to think that they inherited a taste for a number of things that grizzlies commonly eat.

One day we were out walking, when we came upon an army of ants. Without the least hesitation Johnny and Jenny followed along the line, licking them up. Upon reaching the stone behind which the ants were disappearing, Johnny thrust one fore claw under it and flung it aside. I was astonished at his strength.