Watched by Wild Animals

by Enos A. Mills

Finally he climbed up several feet; and as I edged round he sidled about like a squirrel, and though always peeking at me, kept his body well concealed on the opposite side of the tree. On my going to the front of the cabin he descended; and when I glanced round the front corner to see him, he was peeking round the rear corner at me.

As I had kept up a lively, pleasant conversation all this time, he evidently concluded that I was friendly, and, like a boy, proceeded to show off. Near by stood a barrel upright, with the top missing. Into this the bear leaped and then deliberately overturned it on the steep slope. Away down hill rolled the barrel at a lively pace with the bear inside. Thrusting out his forepaws he guided the course of the barrel and controlled its speed.

Once while two black bear cubs were fleeing before a forest fire they paused and true to their nature had a merry romp. Even the threatening flames could not make them solemn. Each tried to prevent the other from climbing a tree that stood alone in the open; round it they clinched, cuffed, and rolled so merrily that the near-by wild folk were attracted and momentarily forgot their fears.

The black bear has more human-like traits than any other animal I know. He is a boy in disguise, will not work long at anything unless at something to produce mischief. Occasionally he finds things dull, like a shut-in boy or a boy with a task to perform, and simply does not know what to do with himself—he wants company.

He is shy and bashful as a child. He plans no harm. He does not eat bad children; nor does he desire to do so. Nothing would give him greater delight than to romp with rollicking, irrepressible children whose parents have blackened his character.

In other words, the black bear is just the opposite in character of what he has long been and still is almost universally thought to be. A million written and spoken stories have it that he is ferocious—a wanton, cruel killer. He fights or works only when compelled to do so. He is not ferocious. He avoids man as though he were a pestilence.

One day in climbing out on a cliff I accidentally dislodged a huge rock. This as it fell set a still larger rock going. The second rock in its hurtling plunge struck a tree in which a young black bear was sleeping. As the tree came to the earth the bear made haste to scamper up the nearest tree. But unfortunately the one up which he raced had lost its top by the same flying ton of stone, and he was able to get only a few yards above the earth.

To get him to come down I procured a long pole and prodded him easily. At first, on the defensive, he slapped and knocked the pole to right and left. He was plainly frightened and being cornered was determined to fight. I proceeded gently and presently he calmed down and began playing with the pole. He played just as merrily as ever a kitten played with a moving, tickling twig or string.

The black bear is the most plausible bluffer I have ever seen. His hair bristling, upper lip stuck forward, and onrushing with a rapid volley of champing K-woof-f-f’s, he appears terrible. He pulls himself out of many a predicament and obtains many an unearned morsel in this way. Most of his bluffs are for amusement; he will go far out of his way for the purpose of running one. In any case, if the bluff is ineffective—and most often it is—he moves on with unbelievable indifference at the failure, and in a fraction of a second is so interested in something else, or so successfully pretends to be, that the bluff might have been yesterday judging from his appearance. Often, like a boy, he has a merry or a terrible make-believe time, in which the bluff is exhibited.

Bears are fond of swimming, and during the summer often go for a plunge in a stream or lake. This is followed by a sunning on the earth or an airing in a treetop.