The Polar Bear and Her Two Cubs Swim Away from the Berg.
In the meantime Jim on board was working on a rough cage for the cubs because Dad had decided to get them alive if it were possible to take them home to the Bronx Zoo at New York. At first they were going to let me shoot one as I did want to get a bear quite [[160]]by myself. But I agreed that it would be a lot better to get them alive if possible. It happens that in 1910 Cap’n Bob up right near here captured the huge polar bear that has been at the Zoo ever since, “Silver King.” He died last year.
Art got out on the bowsprit with his bow and arrows and a file with which he gave the big two-inch steel blades of the arrows a last sharpening.
Kellerman, at his camera, asked Art if he was ready. Art said he was all ready. So Cap’n Bob took the vessel right up close to them again. The first time Art couldn’t shoot because one of the cubs was swimming almost on top of the big bear. So we made another circle and came up on them again. It was a lot of trouble, because there was quite a rough swell and for the camera fixed up at the bow on the starboard side you had to get the vessel into position pretty exactly. [[161]]
Art fired his big bow. By the way, it’s got about a ninety-five pound pull which means it’s all a very strong man can do to even get the string back and the bow bent, far less aim it and all that. I can’t even bend the bow half way. I’ve seen Art put the arrows through two-inch planks of soft wood.
The first two arrows hit the big bear in the back. It was a hard mark, just the neck and a bit of body showing in the water, and Art standing in a mean place on the bowsprit, and the boat rolling a good deal.
The bear turned around and roared and sort of cuffed at one of the cubs who was close. On the next circle Art used two more arrows and I guess one went into her pretty deep. She bled a lot and her head went under the water. Then she came up and kind of rubbed noses with the cubs and then her head dropped again. She was dead. And I guess it was the first time a polar bear ever has been killed with a bow and arrow, certainly since [[162]]the days when the Eskimos used primitive weapons.
The cubs stayed around the body until Carl in the dory came up close. Then they swam off, barking like a whole kennel of dogs. We hoisted the big bear on board and covered her with a tarp. Then we started after the cubs, and it was about the most exciting thing I think I have ever seen, and an awful lot of fun.
Carl sort of wedged himself up in the bow of the dory, which was bobbing around a lot in the swell, and the men rowed him towards the cubs as the Morrissey worked in close where Kel could get the pictures.
The very first shot Carl got his bear. He swung his rope about his head in the air and let it go. The noose fell as fine as could be right around the cub’s head. It was a great show. The folks back in Pendleton, Oregon, who sent us that rope for Carl would have been tickled to death. And right there [[163]]Dad said we would call one of the cubs “Cowboy.” The first one was to be named “Cap’n Bob.”