“In some way it has come about,” says Lockwood, “that ... Bruin has secured for himself an almost superstitious respect.” The way he did so has just been mentioned. Men had reason to fear him, and their veneration followed as a matter of course. It was because he proved “most formidable and dangerous” that Schwatka found among the Chilkat Indians the highest clan called brown bears, and for a like reason the native warrior wore his claws as a badge of honor.
Ferocity, prowess, and tenacity of life appear most conspicuously in accounts of actual conflict. Enough has been said with respect to the first-named trait, and no one ever called the others in question. Major Leveson (“Sport in Many Lands”) is of the opinion that grizzly bears should only be met with the heaviest rifles—“bone-smashers,” as Sir Samuel Baker calls them. Lighter weapons are too often ineffectual, and Dall (“Alaska and its Resources”) reports that when the poorly armed natives of that province occasionally venture upon an assault of this kind, they assemble in large parties, watch the bear into the recesses of its den, block up the entrance with timber prepared for this purpose, and fire volleys into him as he tries to get at them. It will be denied by some, on anatomical grounds, that the Alaskan bears are grizzlies, but we are not concerned here with structural distinctions, and in character there is no difference. Colonel Dodge mentions the case of two soldiers at Fort Wingate who had an unfortunate encounter with one of these beasts, but does not give the details. Roosevelt, however, had the tale from the surgeon who attended them, and relates it (“Hunting Trips of a Ranchman”) as follows: “The men were mail-carriers, and one day did not come in at the appointed time. Next day a relief party was sent out to look for them, and after some search found the bodies of both, as well as that of one of the horses. One of the men still showed signs of life; he came to his senses before dying, and told his story. They had seen a grizzly and pursued it on horseback, with their Spencer rifles. On coming close, one fired into its side, when it turned, with marvellous quickness for so large and unwieldy an animal, and struck down the horse, at the same time inflicting a ghastly wound upon the rider. The other man dismounted and came up to the rescue of his companion. The bear then left the latter and attacked him. Although hit by the bullet, it charged home and thrust the man down, and then lay on him and deliberately bit him to death, while his groans and cries were frightful to hear. Afterward it walked off into the bushes, without again offering to molest the already mortally wounded victim of his first assault.”
It is commonly believed that feigning death will prevent a bear from inflicting further injuries. In many cases this is no doubt the case. Few unwounded animals tear a dead body, except in the act of devouring it. This stratagem must always be of doubtful efficacy, since beasts of prey would generally be acute enough to detect it. The ruse, however, may have been tried upon grizzlies with success; they are not brilliant beasts, so far as can be discovered; but this device sometimes fails. A hunter told the writer, over their camp-fire in the Sierra Nevada, of his brother’s death, which he witnessed. They were shooting in those mountains, and he was on a steep escarpment of rock, his companion in the ravine beneath. A deer was roused and shot by the latter, when a large bear rushed upon him, struck the rifle out of his hands, and knocked him down, but without causing any serious injury. He said that he dared not fire for fear of infuriating the animal, and shouted to his brother to pretend to be dead. This was done; the beast walked round him, smelt at his body, and finally lay down close beside it. Suddenly he seized upon one of the arms and bit it savagely. The unfortunate man probably could not control respiration sufficiently, or there was some involuntary muscular movement. At all events, this is what happened, and the pain caused him to start up with a loud cry, upon which the bear rose erect, grasped him with his arms, and, in the language of the narrator, “bit the top of his head off clean.”
Roosevelt relates that a neighbor of his, “out on a mining trip, was prospecting with two other men near the head-water of the Little Missouri, in the Black Hills country. They were walking down along the river, and came to a point of land thrust out into it, which was densely covered with brush and fallen timber. Two of the party walked round by the edge of the stream; but the third, a German, and a very powerful fellow, followed a well-beaten game trail leading through the bushy point. When they were some forty yards apart, these two men heard an agonized shout from the German, and at the same time the loud coughing growl or roar of a bear. They turned just in time to see their companion struck a terrible blow on the head by a grizzly, which must have been roused from its lair by his almost stepping on it; so close was it that he had no time to fire his rifle, but merely held it up over his head as a guard. Of course it was struck down, the claws of the great brute at the same time shattering his skull like an eggshell. Yet the man staggered on some ten feet before he fell; but when he did, he never spoke or moved again. The two others killed the bear after a short, brisk struggle, as he was in the midst of a most determined charge.”
Everybody makes an oversight sometimes, and although this accomplished sportsman and careful writer is very free from the blemishes that usually disfigure observers of wild beasts, there is a slip of the pen here. How did he know this bear was not waiting for the man it killed? Nobody saw it until in the act of striking, and why the brute “must have been roused from its lair by his almost stepping upon it” does not appear. There is at least a probability that its acute senses warned it of the approach of a heavy man walking carelessly through brush, and of two others tramping round the cover within forty yards.
The bear’s temper, disposition, and power of offence seem to be underrated with respect to the species at large. Whether because its appearance is less impressive than that of animals which have gathered about them most of the world’s gossip, or for any other reason to which this inappreciation may be attributed, both in Europe, Asia, and America, the Ursidæ in general have undoubtedly less reputation than they seem to deserve, and less than the deeds they do and have done in all countries would apparently have brought with them as a matter of course. Poorly armed and primitive populations throughout the earth think differently, however, about them. In the folk-lore of Europe and Asia this creature is conspicuous. The great hunters write of it in a respectful strain. No man who ever stood before an enraged bear thought lightly of its prowess. A host of well-known names are appended to statements concerning destructive arctoids in the Scandinavian Mountains and the Pyrenees, in the Himalayas and Caucasus, the highlands of Central India, and the forests and plains north and south of “the stony girdle of the world.”
There is every reason why this beast should be formidable wherever it has not encountered modern weapons; and that it is so its whole literature attests. Richardson’s name (“Fauna Boreali Americana”), Ursus ferox, translates his own experiences and those of native tribes. Colonel Pollock (“Natural History Notes”) asserts that “in Assam bears are far more destructive to human life than tigers,” and more than one authoritative statement to the same effect has been made concerning those of India. It happens curiously that the ancient documents of China preserve the descriptive title which has been conferred upon the great bear of America. In Dr. Legge’s edition of the Chinese Classics, the Bamboo Books have a note appended by some native scholiast to Part I., relating to the reign of Hwang-te, in which his general Ying-lung, while fighting against Ch’e-yew, is said to have been assisted by “tigers, panthers, bears, and gristly (grizzly) bears.”
The grizzly is so difficult to kill that he has the reputation of being nearly invulnerable. It is quite true that the species possesses great tenacity of life, and that in extremity the animal is capable of doing extreme injury. “One of the most complete wrecks of humanity I ever saw,” says Colonel Dodge, “was a man who had shot a grizzly bear through the head. Both were found dead together.” Roosevelt killed one with a single shot. Following his trail among the Bighorn Mountains, he and his companion, while “in the middle of a thicket, crossed what was almost a breastwork of fallen logs, and Merrifield, who was leading, passed by the upright stem of a great pine. As soon as he was by it, he sank suddenly on one knee, turning half round, his face fairly aflame with excitement; and as I strode past him with my rifle at the ready, there was the great bear slowly rising from his bed among the young spruces. He had heard us ... though we advanced with noiseless caution, ... but apparently hardly knew exactly where or what we were, for he reared up on his haunches sideways to us. Then he saw us and dropped down again on all fours, the shaggy hair on his neck and shoulders seeming to bristle as he turned toward us. As he sank down on his fore feet, I raised the rifle; his head was slightly bent down, and when I saw the top of the white bead fairly between his small, glittering, evil eyes, I pulled trigger. Half rising up, the huge beast fell over on his side in the death throes, the ball having gone into his brain.” Generally it is not so soon over. Captain Lewis mentions a case in which one did not succumb until eight balls went through its lungs, and several into other parts of the body. This officer also relates that one of his party was pursued for half a mile by a grizzly he had shot through the lungs, and which it finally took eight men to kill. Lewis said he would “rather encounter two Indians than one grizzly bear.”
On the other hand, this powerful and ferocious creature may occasionally be destroyed or beaten off with seemingly inadequate means. Single Indians sometimes killed it; white hunters with “pea-rifles” often; and Roosevelt reports that he had a stallion that disabled one by a kick in the head. A similar account is given by Colonel Davidson (“Travels in Upper India”) of an incurably vicious English thoroughbred at Lucknow, which fractured a tiger’s skull when condemned to be devoured by this beast. Major Leveson, who had met most species of Ursidæ, regarded the grizzly as “by far the largest and most formidable of his race, ... one of the most dangerous antagonists a hunter can meet with.” But he knew that weapons before which the black rhinoceros and African elephant are powerless, prove too much for this animal also, and therefore refers “the numerous accidents that have occurred in hunting the grizzly to insufficiency of weight in the projectiles generally used.” If the hunter be “armed with a large-bore breech-loading rifle, and keep his wits about him,” he has the advantage, barring accident. But even then, “should the bear not be shot through the brain or heart, unless his assailant maintain his presence of mind, and put in his second barrel well and quickly, the chances are that the latter will come to grief, if his comrades fail to come to the rescue.”
Leveson relates the following experience of his own: “We were encamped on the Wind River ... when at daybreak one dreary morning a cry of alarm rang through camp, and I was awakened by our people hurrying to and fro in noisy confusion.... As I drew near to the clump of red cedars whence the sound of firearms issued ... one of the half-breeds came running back and informed me that the row was occasioned by a grizzly, that had tried to carry off one of the baggage ponies, but had been driven off by the guard, who fired at him, and that in revenge he had carried off an Indian boy who had charge of the dogs. Guided by the shouting, which still continued, and accompanied by Pierre, who carried a second gun, I entered the copse and found a big grizzly evidently master of the situation; for although three or four of our Blackfoot scouts were halloaing around him, he did not appear to mind them, but confined his attentions to Crib, a bull-terrier, that pluckily kept him at bay by dancing about all round him, without risking a mauling by getting within striking reach of his claws. I was mounted on a thoroughly broken Indian mustang ... and rode pretty close up before I saw that the boy was lying on the ground apparently so badly hurt as to be insensible, while the faithful old dog was doing what he could to protect him by harassing his huge antagonist.