CATCHING BLACK BEAR CUBS
Next he appeared to be trying to walk the log. When he was almost on it, the log rolled and with a splash the grizzly fell into the water on his side. For a second he lost sight of the log, or pretended that he had, and took swift glances this way and that. As it bumped into his up-stream side, he seized it with feigned surprise. Then he took it to the bank in shallow water, mauling it about, biting and gnawing at it. As the log rolled from side to side, he swam around it, batting it and pushing it under.
A number of Clarke nutcrackers and magpies had collected and in astonishment watched the exhibition. Ordinarily a nutcracker is noisy in autumn, screaming and chuckling loudly and harshly. But these were motionless and silent as they watched. A passing magpie whirled aside to see the show, and was just alighting on the bank when the bear splashed water wildly with a sweeping stroke at the log. With confused haste the magpie retreated. Taking a stand on a solitary spruce which leaned over the bank, he watched the scene without a move. The other birds, equally intent, watched from a high-water log-jam among large near-by bowlders.
At last the grizzly secured the log just under water. Standing upon it with hind feet, he reached down with both fore paws and went through an up-and-down motion like a washerwoman. Then he left the log and walked along the bank, keeping watch of it as it floated slowly down stream. It gradually pulled off from the bank. When it was about ten feet away he leaped playfully after it with feet outspread like those of a flying squirrel. Letting it drift again, he watched it intently as it was swept into the current and floated away in midstream. By swimming and wading he kept alongside for some distance, then put one fore paw upon it. Perhaps he was about to start something new, but just then he scented something over his right shoulder.
Releasing the log, he climbed upon a bowlder that projected above the water. On hind feet, interested and curious, he stood gazing for some seconds. Evidently desiring more information, he started ashore and never looked back at the log hurrying away down the rapids.
I found afterwards that the grizzly had rolled the log into the water a short distance up stream from where I came upon him. The log was a sound section of a spruce that had broken off when the tree fell among bowlders and lay on the bank a few feet from the water. The bear had come down stream, and in passing ten or twelve feet from the log had turned aside to it. He may have rolled it over to see if there were insects beneath, but, accidentally or intentionally, he had rolled it into the water.
This play of a grizzly with an object is much less common than their other play, such as coasting. Several times I have seen grizzlies lying on their stomachs sliding down a steep, smooth, grassy slope, or trying to start themselves on a slope that was not steep enough for coasting. A grizzly pauses to play frequently. A mother and cubs often play together in the water, with apparent enjoyment for all. Many a beaver pond is a favorite swimming-hole for the cubs and a wading-place for the older bears.
I watched an old grizzly romping in the mud of a shallow pond. After rolling and wallowing about, until his fur coat was covered with mud thick enough to form a plaster cast, he grew energetic. He ran for the shore with all speed, as though hunters and dogs were upon him. Once out of the mud, he turned and raced back through the pond, galloping all the way across and sending the mud and water flying in exciting fashion. After a momentary pause he again galloped through the mud and water to the other side. The pond was half filled with sediment, and evidently the mud was more than a foot deep.
One autumn while camping on the Continental Divide near the head of Forest Cañon, I discovered that a grizzly will sometimes climb a slope for the purpose of coasting. While I was watching a flock of bighorn sheep, a grizzly came to the summit of a near-by mountain. I saw him as he reached the top and supposed he was crossing to the other side. He shuffled along apparently with definite plans in mind. But he was not going over the top. He headed straight for an out-jutting ridge where the wind-blown snow from the summit had formed a cornice at the top of its steep snowy slope.
The grizzly hurled himself headlong upon the snow cornice with fore paws outstretched. The cornice gave way beneath him. The snow slid and snow-dust whirled about him. I had glimpses of him looking like a fur-robed Eskimo falling down a snowy precipice in a blizzard. As the snow-dust cleared, it revealed the grizzly seated in a moving mass of snow, coasting swiftly down.