“Never shoot a sow bear, Sandy,” Joe was saying. “The cubs still need her and would die without her. Every time you shoot a female, you’re killing three animals. Bears, you see, usually have two in a litter.”
Sandy forgot about the rifle and turned back to watch the family outing on the beach ahead. Suddenly, when they were about fifty yards away, the mother bear caught sight of them. With surprising speed, she snatched her cubs and tucked them between her legs. Growling fiercely, her huge snout wrinkled and her teeth bared, she backed slowly into the bushes. But just as she was about to disappear into the trees, one of the cubs broke away and scampered back out into the open. Exactly like any irate mother, the bear let out a shrill scream of warning as she jumped to cut him off. Growling and snarling, she scolded her tiny runaway and gave him a slap that sent him spinning head over heels. The little bear scrambled back to its feet and raced for the protection of the underbrush. Still scolding and snarling, the big bear followed. Sandy could hear the tirade go on for several minutes until, at last, it died down.
“Now there,” Mike observed, “is a mother who doesn’t believe in spoiling her child. Did you see the spanking that little cub got?”
“I sure did. I wonder if he knows why he got it.”
“I think so,” Joe said. “Wild animals have to learn fast. She’s probably giving them both a lecture right now.”
“Speaking of lectures,” Mike called out to Sandy, “when are you going to give me that lesson in bait casting?”
“Soon as we find some fish,” Sandy replied. “I thought you said this river was full of trout,” he said, turning to Joe.
“It is. You’ll have your chance tonight after we make camp. I know a pool ahead that’s a regular hangout for cutthroats.”
“Cutthroats! Never heard of them.”
“They’ve got a red slash on both sides of their lower jaw. I think this is the only part of the world where you’ll find them.”