Quite as if in answer to the challenge, an eighteen-months-old black bear presently sidled up and made a trial blow at the grizzly's head. Instantly the grizzly cub's right arm shot out a well-delivered blow that sent the black one scurrying away in a panic, and perceptibly cleared the atmosphere. That cub had grizzly-bear courage and confidence; that was all.
There are a number of American sportsmen who esteem the Cape buffalo as the most aggressive and dangerous wild animal in eastern Africa. He is so courageous and so persistently bold that he is much given to lying in wait for hunters and attacking with real fury. The high grass of his swamps is very helpful to him as a means of defense. In our National Collection of Heads and Horns there is a huge buffalo head (for years the world's highest record) that tells the story of a near tragedy. The brother of Mr. F.H. Barber, of South Africa, fired at the animal, but failed to stop it. His gun jammed, and the charging beast was almost in the act of killing him when F.H. Barber fired without pausing to take aim. His lucky bullet knocked a piece out of the buffalo's left horn, dazed the animal for a moment, and afforded time for the shot that killed the mighty bull.
The leopard is usually a vicious beast. When brought to bay it fights with great fury and success. The black leopard is supremely vicious and intractable. Nearly all leopards hate training, and I have seen two or three leopard "acts" that were nerve-racking to witness because of the clear determination of all the animals to kill their trainer at the first opportunity.
The status of the big Alaskan brown bear has already been referred to in terms that may stand as an estimate of its courage. Really, it is now in the same mental state as the grizzly bears of the days of Lewis and Clark, and the surplus must be shot to admonish the survivors and protect the rights of man.
THE RAGE OF A WILD BULL ELK. One of the most remarkable cases of rage, resentment and fighting courage in a newly captured wild animal occurred near Buttonwillow, California, in November 1904, and is very graphically described by Dr. C. Hart Merriam in the Scientific Monthly for November 1921. The story concerns the leader of a band of the small California Valley Elk (Cervus nannodes) which it was desired to transport to Sequoia Park, for permanent preservation.
The bull refused to be driven to the corral for capture, so he was roped, thrown, hog-tied and hauled six miles on a wagon. This indignity greatly enraged the animal. At the corral he was liberated for the purpose of driving him through a chute and into a car.
From his capture and the jolting ride the bull was furious, and he refused to be driven. His first act was to gore and mortally wound a young elk that unfortunately found itself in the corral with him. Then he was roped again and his horns were sawn off. At first no horseman dared to ride into the corral to attempt to drive the animal. Finally the leader of the cowboys, Bill Woodruff, mounted on a wise and powerful horse who knew the game quite as well as his rider, rode into the corral with the raging elk, and attempted to drive it.
The story of the fight that followed, of raging elk vs. horse and man, makes stories of Spanish bullfights seem tame and commonplace, and the adventure of St. George and the dragon a dull affair. With the stubs of his antlers the bull charged the horse again and again, inflicting upon the splendid animal heart-rending punishment. Finally, after a fearful conflict, the wise and brave horse conquered, and the elk devil was forced into the car.
After a short railway journey the elk was forced into a crate,— fighting at every step,—and hauled a two days' journey to the Park. Reduced to kicking as its sole expression of resentment, the animal kicked continuously for forty-eight hours, almost demolishing the crate.
The final scene of this unparalleled drama of wild-animal rage is thus described by Dr. Merriam: "Then the other gates were raised, giving the bull an opportunity to step out. For the first, time since his capture he did what was wanted; he voluntarily crept to the rear of the wagon and hobbled out on the ground. Looking around for an enemy to attack and not seeing any, —some of the men having stationed themselves outside the park fence, the others on top of the crate,—he set out for the river, only a few rods away.