‘This time his side was towards me’
Next day several Lapps came and looked at the bear, and expressed themselves well pleased that she was killed. I noticed that when they saw the skin they invariably crossed themselves, and, if not prevented, spat at it. A Norwegian told me that the Lapps dread bears very much, and will not attempt to hunt them except in parties of five or six.
On another occasion a bear let me off in the kindest manner. My wife and I, our Norwegian servant and a Lapp, had ensconced ourselves in a good position, overlooking an excellent feeding place, and had hardly settled ourselves before we saw old Bruin come waddling down for his dinner. I was then shooting with a double-barrelled Purdey polygroove muzzle-loading rifle, a most excellent weapon, but requiring a nice adaptation of the sights for any distance over a hundred yards, and slow to load, the bullet having to be entered into the grooves of the muzzle by force. I now quote from my wife’s journal:
A. then crept down to stalk him, leaving us on the hill holding our breath with excitement and lying with our heads over the side of the rock in front of us. A. made a good stalk, but was not able to get near Bruin on account of the wind, so he lay down in the grass and put up the 150-yards sight, took a steady aim, and pulled. The bullet, we think, must have hit the ground under the bear’s foot, for afterwards, on looking over the ground, we found that the distance must have been at least two hundred yards, the line being partly over water, and very deceptive to the eye. Anyhow, up jumped the bear on his hind legs to look all round for the being who had sent that nasty whistling ball, and seeing no one, he began to move quickly off in the contrary direction to where A. lay hid. A. then let drive the second barrel, which turned the bear, who then made straight for him. A. was unable to see the bear on account of the scrub (though we could see perfectly well from our elevated position), and before he had time to reload, old Bruin appeared fifteen yards from him. Both were equally surprised at the meeting. A. stopped loading to pull out his hunting-knife, putting it into his teeth, expecting a charge, and then went on loading, and there they stood, man and bear, looking at each other for a full minute; but before A. had time to get his muzzle-loader capped, the bear had seen enough—had turned, and was off. We watched all his movements from the hill. It was so curious seeing him, the whole thing seemed all at once to flash on him, and then he was off; the more he thought of it the less he liked it and the faster he went, until at last he raced ventre à terre, jumping the fallen trees in his path. Once only, just on the brow of the hill, did he look back, and then away he went, faster than ever, and disappeared in the birch scrub. We then came down and hunted the birch scrub, with no results; but on one of the hills we found a place he was accustomed to lie up in, so snug, in between two rocks on the brow of the hill, where he could see all round him, and yet the rocks sheltered him. He had scratched up the moss and had made a soft bed, with a raised pillow at one end. It was a great pity that A. did not get him, for he was a very large bear, and must have been old, as he had such a white muzzle.
For myself, I confess I was glad that I had not touched him, as during the time we faced each other it was simply on the balance whether that inconvenient change was not going to occur when the hunter begins to be the hunted. I have since invariably shot with a Henry Express double-barrelled rifle.
Again watching a favourite feeding place in a similar manner, I saw a very large bear, and managed to get up to within a hundred yards of him, when he offered me a good side shot. I fired, aiming as usual behind the shoulder. On receiving my fire he charged straight at me, whilst I slipped in a cartridge to receive him. He charged fully forty yards at best pace, and, just as I was about to endeavour to give him a head shot, he reared straight up his full height, smashing down a young birch-tree with his weight, stone-dead. This was the largest bear I have shot. His heart was absolutely shattered by the Express bullet.
BEAR DRIVING IN RUSSIA
By the Earl of Kilmorey