II.
THE GRIZZLY.
Ursus Horribilis or Ferox.
This is the great grizzly of California, whose habits have been described by many writers. It is a shy animal, not nearly as ferocious as has been claimed. “It will always run away if it can,” says General Dodge, “and never attacks unless it is cornered or wounded.” Johnson says “the grizzly is the king of all our animals, and can destroy by blows from his paws the powerful bison of the plains; wolves will not even touch the carcass of the dreaded monster, and, it is said, stand in such awe that they refrain from molesting deer that he has slain. Horses also require careful training before they can be taught to allow its hide to be placed upon their backs.”
In the beautiful legend of the Good Poet the grizzly is the forefather of the Indian, and the Indian gives many proofs to show his descent from the grizzly and the Spirit of the Mountain. I want to add a curious fact: The grizzly is the only one of the Ursidae that moves his toes and fingers independently of one another just like a man. Also the bear walks with his foot full upon the ground. In further proof the grizzly, when young, and all other bears, except one, descend a tree backward and head up, as a man would. The clown bear, or spectacled bear, will sometimes descend head down and enjoy a good laugh over it. At least he seems to laugh. After the grizzly has attained bulk and weight with age, he cannot climb trees, as his claws are not strong enough to sustain his weight.
A short time after “Monarch,” the large grizzly, arrived in San Francisco, my model, a very considerate young person, who loved all animals, came to the studio one day with the story that she had made friends with the great beast. It was about the time when “Monarch” was being starved. He had been removed from the pit to the cage. With very little forethought the cage was built without a cover, and “Monarch” was found one night making an attempt to escape. He was prodded back with red-hot irons. It was not possible to work about the cage, and “Monarch” must be confined in smaller quarters. A very small cage was dropped into the enclosure; this had a slide door and was to serve as a trap. I believe the grizzly is the quickest of all animals. Six times a live chicken was fastened in the small cage, and six times “Monarch’s” long arm had literally “swiped” that fowl. So quick was he that the slide fell only as he was already safely crunching its bones. At the seventh attempt he was a little slow and was caught. After that the iron workers placed the roof in position. The trapping of the monster took six days, and “Monarch” received only the food he managed to get from the trap, and that which my tender-hearted model was feeding him (apples and candy) surreptitiously. As this was against the orders of the keeper, the young woman could feed the bear only at irregular intervals. She continued her kindnesses to him after he had been again given the freedom of the larger cage. Then she went away from the city. She was gone for two years. She married and assumed the rotund proportions of a staid matron, and when next I saw her I joked her about this, saying that she was nearly as fat as her old friend “Monarch.”
At this she was indignant. “Indeed,” she said, “animals are less forgetful than man, and ‘Monarch’ undoubtedly will remember me, even if I am not the slim artist’s model I once was.” I told her “Monarch” was far too much like a man, and that he was now satisfied to look upon the world as well lost, and that short of his dinner there was little that could move him from a comfortable position upon his back, his toes in the air, apparently content, and like a philosopher, wondering why the human displays so much curiosity. “I’ll bet he won’t stir,” I said. The upshot of this conversation was that we found ourselves just outside the railing gazing at his lazy majesty. He rolled his head slowly from side to side, eyeing each newcomer with his bead-like eyes. Suddenly the lady in the case said, “Oh, you dear old darling!” “Monarch” seemed electrified; he rose as quickly as possible—certainly he had grown fat—and then he rushed to the side of the cage. He was not satisfied with looking at her from his ordinary standpoint, but rose upon his feet, extending himself his entire height, that he might better look upon the friend of times of trouble. She held up an apple. “Monarch” dropped to his feet, placed his snout as far out as the bars allowed, and opened his immense jaws. She threw the apple, and the bear sat himself down contentedly to chew it. I firmly believe that young woman could have walked into the cage with an apron full of apples and escaped without injury. “Monarch” remembered his friend.