ON HEREDITY 



had been picked up by miners within a few days 

 after its birth — before its eyes had opened. The 

 cub, in fact, was so small that it was carried 

 several miles to the camp tied in the sleeve of 

 the coat of one of the miners. 



Raised to adult bearhood by these miners, 

 without ever having seen another bear — relieved of 

 the necessity of finding its own food and removed 

 from the wild environment of its ancestors — this 

 bear became as thoroughly domesticated, almost, 

 as a tabby cat. 



What would such a bear do if thrown on its 

 own resources? Would it have to begin at the 

 beginning to learn bear-lore? 



Bears are great salmon fishers, for example. 



But is this skill taught by the mother to the 

 baby bear — or is it a part of every bear at birth? 

 That was the question of interest. 



When the animal had arrived at maturity, it 

 was taken, one day, to a shallow salmon stream. 



Here was a bear which had never fished for 

 salmon, and had never tasted fish; a bear which, 

 if bears have a language, had not received a 

 moment of instruction in self support; a bear 

 which, taken before its eyes were open, had never 

 seen its mother, had never known an influence 

 outside of the artificial atmosphere of the mining 

 camp. 



[37] 



