100 The Black Bear 



smaller creeks, thousands of feet above the sea, and 

 still undaunted. 



And few of the invading millions ever find their way 

 back to the ocean from which they came. From the 

 moment that they enter the mouths of the larger 

 rivers, every living creature, from man downward, be- 

 gins to take toll of them. Those that pass the nets 

 and salmon wheels of the canning factories, that elude 

 the talons of the eagles and ospreys, that are missed 

 by the paws of the bears and the cougars, the teeth of 

 the otters and the mink, arrive at the head-waters of 

 their selected stream in a pitiable condition of wounds 

 and exhaustion. Their fins are nothing but bare 

 spines. Their sides are torn by rocks, they are thin 

 from fasting, and when they have deposited and fer- 

 tilized the eggs that they have come so far to find fit 

 hatcheries for, they are, for the most part, utterly una- 

 ble to manage the long return journey. Then they 

 fall an easy prey to any animal that finds them. And 

 many animals gather to the feast. Here is the free- 

 lunch counter of the wilderness; during the salmon 

 runs ever3i:hing in the mountains lives on fish: bears, 

 cougars, coyotes, wolverines, lynx; in Alaska the very 

 geese gorge themselves on salmon; and the Black Bear 

 gets his share of the loot. 



The grizzly, as I have said, is an expert fisherman. 

 I have seen one toss out seventeen big salmon in less 

 than an hour, and after eating his fill bury the rest of 



