The Grizzly, Our Greatest Wild Animal. Enos A. Mills

the Museum Jenny and Johnny, in the First Year of their Lives 102 Photograph by the Author Jenny and Johnny, at the Age of Fourteen 114 Photograph taken in the Denver Zoo Catching Black Bear Cubs 140 Johnny 176 Photograph by J. D. Figgins A Black Bear in the Sequoia National Park 212 Photograph by Lindley Eddy, Giant Forest, Cal. A Black Bear and Cubs 232 Photograph by C. E. Huish, Eureka, Utah Grizzly Bear Group in Colorado Museum of Natural History, Denver 250 Reproduced by courtesy of the Museum

Grizzly Sagacity

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      One autumn day, while I was watching a little cony stacking hay for the winter, a clinking and rattling of slide rock caught my attention. On the mountain-side opposite me, perhaps a hundred yards away, a grizzly bear was digging in an enormous rock-slide. He worked energetically. Several slabs of rock were hurled out of the hole and tossed down the mountain-side. Stones were thrown right and left. I could not make out what he was after, but it is likely that he was digging for a woodchuck.

      After a short time only his shoulders showed above the scattered slide rock as he stood erect. Then he began piling the stones upon the edge of his deepening hole. The slope was steep and the stones had to be placed with care to prevent their tumbling back. After lifting into place one huge slab, he stood and looked at it for an instant and then slightly changed its position. On top of this stone he piled another large one, eyed it closely, shook it to see if it was solid, and finally shifted it a trifle. Had he not been wearing a grizzly-bear coat, it would have been easy to believe that a powerful, careful, thoughtful man was eagerly digging that hole.

      The keenness of the grizzly’s sagacity and the workings of his rare wit were impressed upon me in a photographing experience that I had. Two other young fellows and I thought we could get a near-by photograph of an old grizzly that ranged near us. We entered his territory at three widely separated places and moved in concert toward the centre. We hoped that either one of us would be able to slip up close to the grizzly or else he, in running away, would come close to one of us.

      Very soon one of the boys aroused the bear and started him running. The grizzly had evidently scented him half a mile away. Running in my direction, when within about a mile he discovered my presence, turned, and retreated six or seven miles into a remote corner of his territory. In this retreat he did not go within two miles of either of the other fellows.

      Realizing that the bear had eluded us, we slightly separated and moved toward him. He did not wait to be cornered in a cañon. Late that day we followed his devious tracks and discovered his movements. We learned to our chagrin that he had doubled back in the cañon and come part way toward us. Then, climbing an out-thrusting ridge where he could see in all directions, he evidently had watched us when we passed up a grassy valley beneath him. After we were in the timber beyond he had descended to the valley. Then the most amazing turn came. Instead of running away in the opposite direction he had followed along close behind us! By the time we discovered all this the day was gone, and so was the bear. He had had an adventure.

      Did the grizzly know we were unarmed? He might have used the same tactics in any case. Anyway, he easily kept out of our way, followed our moves, and had, perhaps, enjoyed our unsuccessful efforts.

      I would give the grizzly first place in the animal world for brain-power. He is superior in mentality to the horse, the dog, and even the gray wolf. Instinct the grizzly has, but he also has the ability to reason. His ever-alert, amazingly developed senses are constantly supplying his brain with information—information which he uses, and uses intelligently. His powers of scent are exquisite. His ears hear faint sounds; they are continually on scout and sentinel duty. Wireless messages from long distances which his senses pick up are accurately received and their place of origin correctly determined.

      The grizzly appears to guide his daily life with plan and forethought. He has the genius for taking pains. He is constantly alert and meets emergencies with brains. The following actions have impressed me with his keen mental processes.

      A grizzly cub in Yellowstone Park found a big ham skin—a prized delicacy. Just as the little fellow was lifting it to his mouth a big bear appeared. He instantly dropped the ham skin, sat down on it, and pretended to be greatly interested in watching something in the edge of the woods.

      Another young grizzly in the Yellowstone one day found a tin can that was open at one end and partly filled with fish. He raised it in his fore paws and peeped in, then deliberately turned the can upside down and shook it. Nothing came out. He shook again; no result. Then he proceeded just about as you or I might have done. He placed the can on the ground, open end down, and hammered the bottom of the can with a stone until the fish dropped out.

      In a zoo one day, a piece of hard-tack that a grizzly bear wanted fell into the hands of a black bear. The black bear dipped the hard-tack in the water and then started to take a bite. Evidently it was too hard. He put it in the water again, and while it soaked gave his attention to something else. While the black bear was not looking, the grizzly, standing on the farther edge of the pool, stirred the water with a fore paw and started the hard-tack toward him on the waves. The instant the first wave touched the black bear he looked around, grabbed the precious hard-tack, which was rapidly floating away, and, pushing it to the bottom of the pool, put one hind foot upon it. How very like the mental processes of human beings!

      One day in North Park, Colorado, I came upon the carcass of a cow that wolves had recently killed. It lay in a grassy opening surrounded by willow clumps. Knowing that bears were about, I climbed into the substantial top of a stocky pine near by, hoping that one would come to feast. A grizzly came at sundown.

      When about one hundred feet from the carcass the bear stopped. Standing erect, with fore paws hanging loosely, he looked, listened, and carefully examined the air with his nose. The grizzly is eternally vigilant; he appears to feel that he is ever pursued. As the air was not stirring, I felt that he could not scent me in my tree-top perch. It may be, however, that he faintly caught my lingering scent where I had walked round the opening. After scouting for a minute or two with all his keen senses, he dropped on all fours and slowly, without a sound, advanced toward the willow clumps.

      In places of possible ambush the grizzly is extremely cautious. He is not a coward, but he does not propose to blunder into trouble. When within thirty feet of the waiting feast this bear redoubled his precautions against surprise and ambush by walking round the carcass. Then, slipping