They are just now the boldest of all bears, and the most dangerous.
They often attack men who are hunting them, and have killed several.
They have attacked a few persons who were not hunting.
Where they are really numerous they are a menace and a nuisance to frontiersmen who need to traverse their haunts.
In all places where Alaskan brown bears are quite too numerous for public safety, their numbers should thoroughly be reduced; and everywhere the bears of Alaska should be pursued and shot until the survivors acquire the wholesome respect for man that now is felt everywhere by the polar and the grizzly. Then the Alaskans will have peace, and our Alaskan enemies possibly will cease to try to discredit our intelligence.
The most impressive exhibition of wild-animal fear that Americans ever have seen was furnished by the African motion pictures of Paul J. Rainey. They were taken from a blind constructed within close range of a dry river bed in northern British East Africa, where a supply of water was held, by a stratum of waterproof clay or rock, about four feet below the surface of the dry river bed. By industrious pawing the zebras had dug a hole down to the water, and to this one life-saving well wild animals of many species flocked from miles around. The camera faithfully recorded the doings of elephants, giraffes, zebras, hartebeests, gnus, antelopes of several species, wart-hogs and baboons.
The personnel of the daily assemblage was fairly astounding, and to a certain extent the observer of those wonderful pictures can from them read many of the thoughts of the animals.
Next to the plainly expressed desire to quench their thirst, the dominant thought in the minds of those animals, one and all, was the fear of being attacked. In some species this ever- present and harassing dread was a pitiful spectacle. I wish it might be witnessed by all those ultra-humane persons who think and say that the free wild animals are the only happy ones!
With the possible exception of the sanguine-tempered elephants, all those animals were afraid of being seized or attacked while drinking. One and all did the same thing. An animal would approach the water-hole, nervously looking about for enemies. The fore feet cautiously stepped down, the head disappeared to reach the water, —but quickly shot upward again, to look for the enemies. It was alternately drink, look, drink, look, for a dozen quick repetitions, then a scurry for safety.
Even the stilt-legged and long-necked giraffes went through that same process,—a mouthful of water greedily seized, and a fling of the head upward to stare about for danger. Group by group the animals of each species took their turns. The baboons drifted down over the steep rocky slope like a flock of skimming birds, and watched and drank by turn. Having finished, they paused not for idle gossip or play, but as swiftly as they came drifted up the slope and sought safety elsewhere.