26 THE WILDERNESS OF THE UPPER YUKON 



moment on the highest bench at the edge of the cliff, about 

 five hundred yards above me, and began to dig out a 

 ground-squirrel. 



Ground-squirrels, Citellus plesius, were everywhere. 

 All the pastures and mountain slopes were filled with 

 their holes and one was continually in sight of them, 

 sitting straight up on their hind legs or running for their 

 burrows. The most characteristic sound of the higher 

 parts of the northern wilderness is their shrill chatter 

 when they see a supposed enemy approaching, or when 

 they disappear in their holes. 



Through the glasses the bear could be seen digging, 

 making the earth fly in all directions. At times she would 

 sit and dig, again rise and strike the ground in apparent 

 anger, twist around, watch for a moment, and then begin 

 digging again. The squirrels always have several holes, 

 connected by underground channels, and the bear kept 

 digging out one after another, now and then making a 

 jump to the next, evidently knowing that the squirrel 

 was about to run out. Then she would again dig, until, 

 finally, the squirrel was pocketed, and the bear made a 

 great pounce and grabbed it with both forepaws. As 

 her back was turned, the operation of devouring her prey 

 could not be seen. While the bear was digging for the 

 squirrel, the cub raced about, now sitting still a moment, 

 then jumping up and running off playing, quite indiffer- 

 ent to the mother's task. 



After spending twenty minutes digging and tearing 

 out the hard earth until she caught the squirrel, the bear 

 stepped to the edge of the cliff, took a long look below, 



