GLANCING across a beaver pond one day, I 

 saw a big, grayish grizzly bear walk out into 

 the grassy opening. My presence was not sus- 

 pected, and I at once focused my field-glasses upon 

 him. Here and there he went. As a grasshopper 

 leaped into the air, the bear — big, fat, awkward, 

 lumbering fellow that he was — leaped into the air 

 after it. Striking the grasshopper with a fore paw, he 

 would knock it to the ground and then pick it up 

 with his teeth. Occasionally he advanced on all 

 fours and slapped his paw upon the grasshopper 

 before it leaped into the air. Once two grasshoppers 

 flew up at the same instant. The bear stood still, 

 located the spot where each had alighted, and then 

 paid his respects to them in turn. 



About this time another bear came into the 

 opening within a hundred feet of the scene of ac- 

 tivity. He was dark-gray, almost black, in color, 

 but he too was a grizzly. After smelling here and 

 there, the second bear dug out something; I think 

 it must have been a nestful of mice. A minute later 



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