4734 THE ZooLocisT—JANUARY, 1876. 
Polar Bear.—The Polar bear, which, with his yellowish white 
shaggy skin and black nose, forms a sharp contrast against the 
snow-fields at a long distance off, weighs from ten to twelve 
hundred-weight, and far surpasses in size those specimens in 
zoological gardens or menageries (which are brought over young, 
and developed under such unfavourable circumstances); it is sur- 
passed by neither the lion nor the tiger in point of strength, and is 
quite as dangerous. But the cold zone in which it lives cools its 
blood; it is wary and mistrustful. The contradictory reports of 
their courage show that one must never judge one specimen by 
another, but that each individual is guided by its need of food at 
the moment. It lives chiefly on seals, watching for them through 
the ice-fissures, and falls upon them while sunning themselves, 
with all the cunning of the tiger and the same stealthy step. It 
also pursues the seal even when diving, for it is a powerful swimmer, 
and only the reindeer excels it in speed. Over jagged rocky 
declivities it climbs with cat-like dexterity. The roughness of its 
soles, its claws, and hairy paws insure its safety equally on smooth 
or sloping ice-surfaces. Payer skinned the hind feet of a bear we 
had killed, carefully cleaned them from all fat, rabbed them with 
alum, and wore them himself: they were beautiful warm stockings, 
for the bear had good soles. Unfortunately they were lost in a fire 
on board during the winter. As the seals remain chiefly among 
the pack-ice, or on its outer edge, so also the bear during the 
summer is a frequent visitor. It follows the seal-hunters step for 
step, in order to devour the skinned animals, or when revelling in 
excess swims to the carcase of a whale. The bear kills its prey 
before eating it, although it likes to play with it first. It rides on 
the floes in the arctic current down to Iceland. It is often seen 
miles from land, and swims towards boats or ships until driven 
back by shots. When glutted with the enjoyment of fat seals it 
varies its diet by ducks’ eggs, and a few hours are quite enough for 
it to clear a small island entirely. 
It is certainly hard for the Arctic traveller to be exposed to the 
tender mercies of a bear’s two-inch incisors; but a gun and a pocket 
filled with cartridges are of a much more simple process than 
dragging a dead seal about after one. If you are unarmed the 
slightest movement disquiets the bear and provokes him to action. 
But it is a much more serious matter to meet him in the darkness 
and be mistaken for a seal—a mistake only cleared up when it is 
