In the Bitter Root Mountains Mr. Wright and his hunting party once set a bear trap for a grizzly, in a pen of logs, well baited with fresh meat. On the second day they found the pen demolished, the bait taken out, and everything that was movable piled on the top of the trap.

The trap was again set, this time loosely, under a bed of moss. The grizzly came and joyously ate all the meat that was scattered around the trap, but the moss and the trap were left untouched. And then followed a major operation in bear trapping. A mile away there was a steep slope of smooth rock, bounded at its foot by a creek. On one side was a huge tangle of down timber, on the other side loomed some impassable rocks; and a tiny meadow sloped away at the top. The half-fleshed carcasses of two dead elk were thrown half way down the rock slide, to serve as a bait. On the two sides two bear guns were set, and to their triggers were attached two long silk fish-lines, stretched taut and held parallel to each other, extending across the rocky slope. The idea was that the bear could not by any possibility reach the bait from above or below, without setting off at least one gun, and getting a bullet through his shoulders.

On the first night, no guns went off. The next morning it was found that the bear had crossed the stream and climbed straight up toward the bait until he reached the first fish-line; where he stopped. Without pressing the string sufficiently to set off its gun, he followed it to the barrier of trees. Being balked there, he turned about, retraced his steps carefully and followed the string to the barrier of rocks. Being blocked there, he back- tracked down the slide and across the stream, over the way he came. Then he widely circled the whole theatre, and came down toward the bait from the little meadow at its top of the slide.

Presently he reached the upper fish-line, twelve feet away from the first one. First he followed this out to the log barrier, then back to the rock ledge that was supposed to be unclimbable. There he scrambled up the "impossible" rocks, negotiated the ledge foot by foot, and successfully got around the end of line No. 2. Getting between the two lines he sailed out across the slope to the elk carcasses, feasted sumptuously, and then meandered out the way he came, without having disturbed a soul.

All this was done at night, and in darkness; and presumably that bear is there to this day, alive and well. No wonder Mr. Wright has a high opinion of the grizzly bear as a thinking animal.

In hiding their homes and young, either in burrows or in nests on the ground, wild rabbits and hares are wonderfully skilful, even under new conditions. Being quite unable to fight, or even to dig deeply, they are wholly dependent upon their wits in keeping their young alive by hiding them. Thanks to their keenness in concealment, the gray rabbit is plentiful throughout the eastern United States in spite of its millions of enemies. Is it not wonderful? The number killed by hunters last year in Pennsylvania was about 3,500,000!

The most amazing risk that I ever saw taken by a rabbit was made by a gray rabbit that nested in a shallow hole in the middle of a lawn-mower lawn east of the old National Museum building in Washington. The hollow was like that of a small wash-basin, and when at rest in it with her young ones the neutral gray back of the mother came just level with the top of the ground. At the last, when her young were almost large enough to get out and go under their own steam, a lawn-mower artist chanced to look down at the wrong moment and saw the family. Evidently that mother believed that the boldest ventures are those most likely to win.

Among the hoofed and horned animals of North America the white- tailed deer is the shrewdest in the recognition of its enemies, the wisest in the choice of cover, and in measures for self- preservation. It seems at first glance that the buck is more keen- witted than the doe; but this is a debatable question. Throughout the year the buck thinks only of himself. During fully one-half the year the doe is burdened by the cares of motherhood, and the paramount duty of saving her fawns from their numerous enemies. This, I am quite sure, is the handicap which makes it so much easier to kill a doe in the autumn hunting season than to bag a fully antlered and sophisticated buck who has only himself to consider.

The white-tailed deer saves its life by skulking low in timber and thick brush. This is why it so successfully resists the extermination that has almost swept the mule deer, antelope, white goat, moose and elk from all the hunting-grounds of the United States. Thanks to its alertness in seeing its enemies first, its skill and quickness in hiding, and its mental keenness in recognizing and using deer sanctuaries, the white- tailed or "Virginia" deer will outlive all the other hoofed animals of North America. In Pennsylvania they know enough to rush for the wire-bounded protected area whenever the hunters appear. That state has twenty-six such deer sanctuaries,—well filled with deer.

The moose and caribou dwell upon open or half-open ground, and are at the mercy of the merciless long-range rifles. Their keenness does not count much against rifles that can shoot and kill at a quarter of a mile. In the rutting season the bull moose of Maine or New Brunswick is easily deceived by the "call" of a birch-bark megaphone in the hands of a moose hunter who imitates the love call of the cow moose so skilfully that neither moose nor man can detect the falsity of the lure.