The Grizzly, Our Greatest Wild Animal

by Enos A. Mills

While Jenny was asleep on the grass, I placed a large umbrella over her. When she opened her eyes, she at once commenced a quiet though frightened study of the strange thing. She closed one eye, turned her head to one side, and looked up into it; then, turning her head, closed the other eye for a look. A sudden puff of wind gave life to the umbrella and this in turn to Jenny. She made a desperate dash to escape the mysterious monster. The wind whirled the umbrella before her and she landed in it. Wrecking the umbrella, she fled in terror, bellowing with every jump. It took more than an hour to explain matters and assure Jenny that I had not been playing any tricks.

Scotch, my short-nosed collie, was with me when Johnny and Jenny were growing up. Johnny and Scotch were fond of each other, and though each was a little jealous of the master’s attention to the other, they got along admirably. Ofttimes they wrestled, and sometimes in their rough and tumble they played pretty roughly. As a climax often Scotch would aim for a neck-hold on Johnny and hammer him on the tip of his sensitive nose with one fore paw, while Johnny if possible would seize Scotch’s tail in his mouth and shut down on it with his needle-like teeth.

One of the most interesting pranks which they played on each other was over a bone. Scotch was enjoying this, when he discovered Johnny watching him eagerly. Plainly Johnny wanted that bone. After a little while Scotch leaped to his feet, looked off in the direction beyond Johnny and barked, as though some object of interest was coming from that direction. Then, picking up the bone, he walked away. As he passed in front of Johnny he dropped the bone and gave a bark. Going on a short distance, he barked once or twice more and lay down watching this pretended object in the distance. Johnny was more interested in the bone, but Scotch had dropped this a foot or two beyond his reach, chained as he was. For some time Johnny stood with his nose pointing at the bone, apparently thinking deeply as to how he might reach it. At last, stretching his chain to the utmost he reached out with his right arm. But he could not touch it. Although realizing that he probably could not reach it with the left arm, nevertheless he tried.

All this time Scotch was watching Johnny out of the corner of his eye and plainly enjoyed his failures. Johnny stood looking at the bone; Scotch continued looking at Johnny. Suddenly Johnny had an idea. He wheeled about, reached back with his hind foot and knocked the bone forward where he could pick it up with fore paws. Scotch, astonished, leaped to his feet and walked off without a bark or once looking back.

When Johnny and Jenny were small they often reminded me of a little boy and a little girl. Ofttimes they would follow me into my cabin. If I sat down they would come close, stand on hind legs, put fore paws on my knees, and look up at me. They would play with my watch-string, peep into my pockets, notice my pencil, or look at the buttons on my coat. Sometimes they would make a round of the room, scrutinize an unusual knot in a log, or stop to look for several seconds at the books in the shelves or the last magazine-cover. Then again, like children, they would walk round the room, tap with their fore paws here and there, and hurry on as children do. More than once they climbed up into my lap, twitched my ears, touched my nose, played with my hair, and finally fell off to sleep, one on each arm.

One day, while I was carrying Johnny in my arms, it occurred to me that he would enjoy a big rocking-chair. I placed him in a chair with one fore paw on each arm. He sat up like a little old man. As I started the chair rocking, he showed his suspicion and alarm by excitedly peering over, first at one rocker and then the other. Presently he calmed down and seemed to enjoy the movement. By and by he caught the swing and rocked himself. Suddenly the little old man and the rocker went over backward. Seeing his angry look as he struck the floor, I leaped upon the centre table. Getting on his feet, he struck a blow that barely missed me and then made lively bites at my ankles. He blamed me for the law of falling bodies. After a few seconds he was as playful as ever, remembering that I had never played any tricks on him, and realizing that I was not to blame for what had happened.

These little bears grew rapidly. At the age of seven months Johnny weighed approximately sixty pounds, and Jenny forty-six.

Numerous visitors and the increasing size of the cubs at last compelled me to chain them. The little bears were almost always on the move, either pacing back and forth or circling. Their long chains often got tangled with sticks, grass, or bushes. Sometimes the cubs showed impatience, but usually they carefully examined the chain, then, taking it in their fore paws, stepped this way and that and generally made the very move needed to extricate or unwind it. While doing this they appeared almost comical because of their serious and concentrated attention.

One morning Johnny climbed to the top of the pole fence to which he was chained. With happy, playful activity he galloped atop the pole to the end of the chain; then, like an engine, he reversed his direction without turning and went hippety-hop back again. This was a favorite exercise of Johnny’s, a game which I had encouraged; but this morning while having a beautiful time he tumbled off backward. The chain caught in a knot and Johnny found himself hung. Grizzly bears resent being hung by the neck. Johnny quickly kicked himself out of his collar. Finding himself free, and thinking himself abused, I suppose, he ran away. After three days this runaway boy concluded to come home. I saw him come out of the woods into an opening on the mountain-side. Even at a distance I could see that he no longer possessed the big round stomach that he took away. I went to meet him. He was interested in the food question, and long before he reached me he was dancing about with outstretched arms.

In the midst of this performance it occurred to him that if he wanted anything to eat he must hurry to me. So he checked his first impulse and started to carry his second into instant effect. These incomplete proceedings interrupted and tripped each other three or four times and mixed themselves together. Apparently an entangled mental process followed my appearance. Though he tumbled about in comic confusion while trying to do two things at once, it was evident through it all that his central idea was to get something to eat.