Illustrating the "Timidity" of the 

 Nova Scotia Black Bear 



THE ice-house at my camp on Lake Rossignol had 

 been broken into and a half-barrel of pork carried 

 away. The thief thoughtfully left the barrel. 

 Half a dozen ducks, tied together and hanging by a 

 string from a nail driven in the logs just outside the 

 kitchen door, had inadvertently disappeared. 



Some blueberry pies upon the kitchen table had been 

 carried off overnight by way of a much torn window- 

 screen. 



A pack-basket full of grub left on the canoe landing in 

 the evening was gone in the morning. This last theft 

 was committed so boldly and so carelessly that the 

 thief's tracks were plainly discernible in the sand on the 

 shore of the lake, and left no doubt in the minds of the 

 observers that it was a sizable she-bear, accompanied 

 by two busy but trusting little cubs, that had been guilty 

 of this last depredation and probably the previous ones. 

 As immediate steps seemed necessary to prevent 

 further mischief, a tempting pan of molasses was cun- 

 ningly placed in a secluded nook behind a rock, but in 

 full sight of a watcher ensconced upon the roof of the 

 cabin. A powerful flash-light rigged with a trigger 

 was securely clamped to a near-by birch and aimed 

 directly at the bait. A trigger line, with one end fast 

 to the light and the other end tied to a tree, was so 

 arranged that it would be nearly impossible for an animal 

 the size of a bear to touch the aromatic mess in the pan 



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