48 BOOK OF A HUNDRED BEARS 



about the Hot Springs Hotel and are fed on 

 alfalfa. Day in and day out, the scouts patrol the 

 Park and watch for cripples or old animals that 

 may die of starvation. You may not, if camping, 

 leave a tin can unburied, because sometimes a bear, 

 in search of its contents, gets its nose stuck in its 

 ragged opening. The Government does every- 

 thing but furnish hair mattresses and wash basins 

 for them. 



The badger, wildest of his kind, sits at his door- 

 way and looks at you as unafraid as a baby pup. 

 The bald eagle gazes at you from a dead branch 

 within easy snapshot, with his tired, dead eyes, 

 that seem as old as the world. The chipmunks 

 fill the woods with their chatter. Squirrels dance 

 above your head, and all the multitudinous life 

 of the forest goes and comes, regardless of you, 

 unfearing. Is it not wonderful? They know that 

 you are not there to kill and wound and rend 

 them. You are not there to secure another rug 

 or pair of spreading antlers that attest the sureness 

 of your eye. You are just friends with them — 

 just there to watch them, enjoy them, maybe 

 to feed them, but surely not to harm them. 



