Discovery of the Yosemite, and the Indian War of 1851, Which Led to That Event

by Lafayette Houghton Bunnell

Contrary to the usual, and almost invariable, habit of the bear when surprised or about to attack, he did not rise upon his hind feet; but instead of affording Kenzie the advantage of the usual opportunity to aim at the small, light-colored spot on his neck, which, if centered, is instant death to the animal, the bear made a direct dash for the hunter. Seeing his peril, Kenzie at once fired with all the deliberation the urgency of the occasion would permit. The shot proved a fatal one, but before Kenzie could avoid the furious charge of the animal, he was fatally injured by blows from the terrible monster. His bowels were literally torn out; he was unfortunate in being tripped by the tangled brush, or he might have escaped, as the bear fell dead with his first charge, Kenzie succeeded in dragging himself to their camp. He described the locality of the adventure, and requested Brooks to go and bring in the liver of the bear. He said it would afford him some consolation to eat more of the bear than the bear had been able to eat of him. Brooks brought in and cooked some of the liver, fully gratifying Kenzie’s whim; but it was the hunter’s last poor triumph—he died soon after. Brooks swore off from this method of hunting, at least for a season, and accepted a position offered him at the Indian Agency.

Another member of our battalion killed a grizzly that for a time made him quite famous as a bear-fighter. As this man was an Indian, an attempt has been made to weave the incident into a legend, giving the honor of the combat to one of the Yosemites. The truth is, that a full-blooded Cherokee, known as “Cherokee Bob,” or Robert Brown, wounded a grizzly, and to keep the bear from entering a thicket, set his dog on the game. While “Bob” was re-loading his rifle, and before he could get the cap on, the bear, disregarding the dog, charged upon Bob, and bore him to the ground. The dog instantly attacked the bear, biting his hams most furiously. The grizzly turned from Brown and caught the dog with his paw, holding him as a cat would hold a mouse. By this means Bob was released, and but slightly bruised. In an instant he drew his hunting knife and plunged it to the heart of the bear, and ended the contest. The dog was seriously injured, but Bob carried him in his arms to camp, and attended his wounds as he would a comrade’s or as he might have done his own. As “Cherokee Bob’s” bear fight was a reality known to his comrades, I have noticed it here.

The various routes to the Yosemite are now so constantly traveled that bears will rarely be seen. They possess a very keen scent, and will avoid all thoroughfares traveled by man, unless very hungry; they are compelled to search for food. Strange as it may appear to some, the ferocious grizzly can be more reliably tamed and domesticated than the black bear. A tame grizzly at Monterey, in 1849, was allowed the freedom of the city. Capt. Chas. M. Webber, the original proprietor of the site of Stockton, had two that were kept chained. They became very tame. One of these, especially tame, would get loose from time to time and roam at will over the city. The new inhabitants of Stockton seemed not to be inspired by that faith in his docility and uprightness of character that possessed the owner, for they found him ravenously devouring a barrel of sugar that belonged to one of the merchants, and refused to give up any portion of it. This offended the grocer, and he sent word to Mr. Webber to come and remove his truant thief. The Captain came, paid for the damaged sugar, and giving him, like a spoiled child, some of the sweets he had confiscated to induce him to follow, led the bear home. But bruin remembered his successful foray, and breaking his chain again and again, and always returning to the merchant’s premises for sugar, Mr. Webber rid himself and the community of the annoyance by disposing of his grizzlies.

During a hunt in company with Col. Byron Cole, Messrs. Kent, Long and McBrien of San Francisco, I caught a good sized cub, and Mr. Long, with a terrier dog, caught another; the mother of which was killed by the unerring aim of McBrien. These cubs were taken by Cole and McBrien to San Francisco on their return, and sent to New York. I was told that they became very tame. I hope they did, for the comfort and security of their keepers; for in my first efforts to tame a grizzly, I became somewhat prejudiced against bear training as an occupation. Not long after my experience, I heard of poor Lola Montez being bitten by one she was training at Grass Valley for exhibition in Europe; and I now lost all faith in their reported docility and domestic inclinations. The California lion, like the wolf, is a coward, and deserves but little notice. Among the visitors to the Yosemite, some will probably be interested in knowing where to find the game: fish, birds and animals, that may yet remain to gratify the sportsmen’s love of the rod and the chase. Most of the game has been killed or driven off by the approach of civilization. Deer and occasionally a grizzly, cinnamon or black bear may be found on the slopes of the Tuolumne, Merced, Fresno and San Joaquin, and on all the rivers and mountains south of these streams. The cinnamon bear of California is much larger than the common brown bear of the Rocky Mountains.

The blue black-tailed deer of California are distinct from the black tuft-tailed deer of the eastern ranges; a very marked difference will be observed in their horns and ears. This distinction has been noticed by naturalists; but the species are often confounded in newspaper correspondence. The habits of the California deer are more goat-like; they are wilder, and more easily startled than the “mule-eared” deer of the Rockies, and when alarmed, they move with the celerity of the white-tailed Virginia deer. The bare, tuft-tailed and big-eared Rocky Mountain deer, seem but little alarmed by the report of a gun; and their curiosity is nearly equal to that of the antelope.

The California deer are still abundant upon the spurs of the Sierras during their migrations to and from the foot-hills. These migrations occur during the Autumn and Spring. As the rainy season sets in, they leave the higher mountains for the foot-hills and plains, keeping near the snow line, and as the Spring advances, they follow back the receding snow to the high Sierras and the Eastern Slope, but seldom or never descend to the plain below. On account of these migratory habits, they will most likely endure the assaults of the sportsmen. The haunts of the grizzly are the same as those of the deer, for they alike prefer the bushy coverts to the more open ground, except when feeding. The deer prefer as food the foliage of shrubs and weeds to the richest grasses, and the bear prefers clover, roots, ants and reptiles; but both fatten principally on acorns, wild rye and wild oats.

California grouse are found in the vicinity of the Yosemite. During the months of July and August they were formerly found quite numerous concealed in the grass and sedges of the valley and the little Yosemite; but as they are much wilder than the prairie chicken, they shun the haunts of man, and are now only found numerous in mid-summer upon or bordering on the mountain meadows and in the timber, among the pine forests, where they feed upon the pine seeds and mistletoe, which also afford them ample concealment. Their ventriloquial powers are such that while gobbling their discordant notes, they are likely to deceive the most experienced ear. It is almost impossible to feel quite sure as to which particular tree the grouse is in without seeing it. He seems to throw his voice about, now to this tree and now to that, concealing himself the while until the inexperienced hunter is deluded into the belief that the trees are full of grouse, when probably there is but one making all the noise. His attention having been diverted, the hunter is left in doubt from sheer conflicting sounds as to which particular tree he saw a bird alight in. It is generally pretty sure to “fetch the bird,” if you shoot into the bunch of mistletoe into which you supposed you saw the grouse alight.

Beside the mountain grouse and mountain quail, among the most beautiful of birds, that afford the sportsman a diversity of sport, an occasional flock of pigeons, of much larger size than those of the Atlantic States, will attract attention; though I have never seen them in very large flocks. In most of the mountain streams, and their branches, brook trout are quite abundant. They are not, however, so ravenously accommodating, as to bite just when they are wanted. I learned from the Indians that they would bite best in foaming water, when they were unable to see the angler, or the bait distinctly; their curiosity stimulating their appetites. It is important that the trout do not see the angler, and when very wary, the rod even should not be conspicuous. Below the cañon of the Yosemite, young salmon were once abundant. The Indians used to catch fish in weirs made of brush and stones; but during the extensive mining operations on the Merced and other rivers, the salmon seemed to have almost abandoned their favorite haunts, for the mud covered spawn would not hatch. Large salmon were speared by the Indians in all the rivers, with a curious bone spear of but one tine, while the smaller fry were caught in their weirs. In the Tulare lakes and in the San Joaquin, King’s, Kern and other rivers, fish, frogs and turtle are abundant, and water fowl literally swarm during the winter months in many parts of California.

Among the foot-hills of the Sierra Nevada, as well as in all the lesser mountain ranges, may be found the common California blue quail, and a very curious brush or chapparel cock, known to the Spanish residents of California and Mexico as “El Paisano” (The Countryman), and as the “Correo Camino” (Road-runner), and to ornithologists as the Geo-coc cyx Californicus.[14] They have received the name of “countryman” because of their inclination to run like country children at the sight of strangers, and that of “road-runner” from the habit of frequenting roads and trails, for the purpose of wallowing in the dust, and when alarmed darting off along the road with the speed of an ostrich or wild turkey. The object they have in wallowing in the dust is like that of the ruffled grouse, which indulge in the same practice—they sun themselves and at the same time are rid of vermin. Trusting to their legs to escape when alarmed, they take the open ground—the road—until outrunning pursuit they hide in the chapparel, and thus acquire the name of “road-runner” or “chapparel cock.”

I have never seen any ruffled grouse in the Sierra Nevada, but a species of these fine birds, are quite abundant in Oregon and Washington territory. I have been able to solve a question regarding them, upon which naturalists have disagreed, that is, as to how they drum. Whether the sound is produced by the wings in concussive blows upon their bodies, the air, logs or rocks? I am able to say from personal and careful observation, that the sound of “drumming,” is made, like the sound of the “night jar,” exclusively by a peculiar motion of the wings in the air. It is true, the American “pheasant” or American “partridge,” commonly stands upon a log while drumming, but I have watched them while perched upon a dry small branch or twig, drum for hours most sonorously, calling upon their rivals to encounter them, and their mistresses to come and witness their gallantry. Darwin has aptly said: “The season of love, is that of battle.” Notwithstanding the acuteness of observation of Mr. Darwin, he has been led into error in his statement that wild horses “do not make any danger signals.” They snort and paw the earth with impatience, when they cannot discover the cause of their alarm, and almost invariably circle to the leeward of the object that disturbs them. A mule is the best of sentinels to alarm a camp on the approach of danger. Deer and elk whistle and strike the earth perpendicularly with their feet when jumping up to discover the cause of alarm. Deer and antelope are both so inquisitive, that if the hunter has not been seen, or has been but imperfectly seen, by dropping into the grass or brush, and raising some object to view and suddenly withdrawing it, the deer or antelope will frequently come up within a few feet of the object. Antelope are especially curious to know what disturbs them.