326 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[NOV. U, 1889. 



A BUNCH OF BEAR STORIES. 



i. 



AN adventure which my friend, Col. T. B. Hooker, 

 once had with a bear, I think deserves a place in 

 the Forest and Stream. Col. Hooker, who is at once 

 a very hospitable cotton planter, a genial gentleman, and 

 one who has been a keen sportsman in his younger days, 

 relates the following: .... 



In the neighborhood of his plantation in the Mississippi 

 bottoms there was an abundance of game, such as bear, 

 deer, turkeys, etc., Lut a dense canebrake interposed be- 

 tween his house and the best hunting grounds, which 

 necessitated a long detour to get around it. To obviate 

 this he determined to cut a " hack " (in the vernacular) 

 through the brake, which was about half a mile wide. 

 He sent a man one morning to the opposite side of the 

 brake to cut through the cane toward the house, while 

 he himself, with caneknife in hand, proceeded from his 

 side to meet him. After penetrating the brake quite a 

 distance the Colonel's attention was attracted by the out- 

 cry of some of his dogs which had gone out with them. 

 It soon proved that they were in chase of a bear, and 

 were making directly toward the Colonel, who had not 

 encumbered himself with a gun. and therefore Btood 

 weaponless, excepting the caneknife, and awaited devel- 

 opments. The bear showed up pretty soon, making ex- 

 cellent time through the cane, but he was quite a small 

 specimen, and was overhauled by the foremost dogs when 

 very near the Colonel's position. That gentleman sud- 

 denly conceived the idea of capturing the bear alive, and 

 with that view rushed into the melee, kicked the dogs 

 aside, and laid hold of the bear's neck with both hands. 

 The bear struggled hard to get away and the Colonel 

 strained every nerve to hold him, all the time yelling 

 with all the breath he could spare for his assistant to 

 come to his help. The other man, who was several hun- 

 dred yards away, made all the haste he could to reach 

 the scene of excitement, his interest greatly heightened 

 by the combined baying of the dogs, yelling of the Col- 

 onel, and squalling of the bear. But the cane being very 

 thick his progress was much impeded, and the Colonel, 

 nearly exhausted by the tremendous strain on his muscu- 

 lar and nervous systems, was on the point of giving up 

 the contest and getting clear of the bear's claws and 

 teeth, when his companion came in calling distance and 

 shouted an inquiry as to what the trouble was. The 

 Colonel shouted back: "Come quick! I've got a bear! 

 He's about to get away ! Run and help me hold him ! " 

 The man came up with all speed to relieve the Colonel 

 from his perilous and awkward position, and at once 

 laid hold of the bear with both hands. Col. Hooker then 

 released his grasp, and discovered that the poor little bear 

 was stone dead — he had choked it to death. Coahoma. 

 Mississippi. 



II. 



Thanks to "Larry Yatt" for his bull and bear story, 

 over which I laughed heartily. When that bear leaped 

 the fence and struck on the other side "like a ton of mud," 

 I recalled the description which T. W. Billings, of Brown- 

 voile, Me. — best of guides — once gave me of the antics of 

 a two-year-old bear which he caught in a trap, and which 

 managed to get loose from the clog at the first jump. 

 Dragging the trap, he frantically climbed into a young 

 spruce, and seeming in his crazy flight to think that that 

 tree led up indefinitely to some safe region above, kept 

 on till his paws clutched the smallest twigs at the top, 

 and he fell over and came "slithering" down through the 

 branches, striking on his hams with the traditional "dull 

 thud," making a tremendous dent, visible two years 

 afterward, in the swampy ground and eliciting a grunt, 

 at the recollection of wmich Billings always had to roar 

 again with laughter. 



Of all comical creatures, give me for amusement a 

 tame and frisky bear; but the caution is in order to first 

 "be sure your bear is tame." I once barely missed having 

 my shoulder torn off by the wicked, lightning-like stroke 

 of the paw of a caged cinnamon bear, who stood sleepily 

 swinging himself back and forth from one foot to the 

 other, and looking almost too lazy to wink. I strolled 

 incautiously almost within reach, when between the 

 bars of the cage came that paw, the claws just grazing 

 my shoulder, with a quickness of stroke that then and 

 there taught me something new about bears. 



By the way , where is the fine grizzly named Tom, which 

 used to be kept in one of the bear dens at Union Park, on 

 the West Side, in Chicago? Now I think of it, it was fif- 

 teen or eighteen years ago, or possibly even more, that I 

 saw him. Can he be the one mentioned by Mr. Hough as 

 having been killed in a "battle royal" with other bears in 

 Chicago some years ago? The bear I refer to was young- 

 two or three years old, perhaps — when I saw him, and 

 was said to have been brought up from a cub by a hunter 

 who had killed its mother. It was said to have followed 

 him like a dog and to have been perfectly tame, and that 

 its owner only parted with him to the park when called 

 to Europe on business. C. H, Ames, 



hi. 



The "Immortal Bard of Avon," in one of his aphorisms 

 tells us that 1 'Fortune brings in boats that are not steered." 

 An illustration of the same may be found in the follow- 

 ing: 



A friend of mine hailing from the Emerald Isle, a forest 

 trotter of the most approved species, and a devoted dis- 

 ciple of Epicurus, whose palate had for some days been 

 hankering after the flavor of wood grouse, sallied forth 

 in search of that wily biped. The fresh morning air, de- 

 liciously tempered by the rays of an October sun, infused 

 the elasticity of youth into his fifty-year-old limbs, as 

 with light and airy steps of a Thisbe out for a morning 

 walk, he "o'er tripped the dew" to the "Fording," a noted 

 deer stand hereabouts on the Cowpasture. Irresolute he 

 stood contemplating the cold flood ablaze with the smiles 

 of Phoebus Apollo. Visions of rheumatism, neuralgia, 

 catarrh flitted through his mind, 



"Thrice looked he at the river, 

 Thrice looked he, so 'tis said, 



And then pulled down his beaver, 

 And then turned back in dread—" 

 When a pheasant drumming up a hollow on the other 

 side decided him, and he resolutely faced the chilling 

 waters, which eddied around his knees gracefully, but 

 with the effect of having his legs in an ice-cream freezer. 

 Arriving on the opposite side he struck up a deep hollow, 

 through which a little prattling stream, "making music 

 on the enameled stones," leaped and gamboled. Pursu- 



ing his way and meeting with no success, footsore and 

 weary, he reclined against a tree absorbed in trying to 

 frame a Johnsonian ode on the vanity of human wishes. 



Suddenly a noise proceeded from a small hollow a little 

 to his left. "A deer," thought he, "and dear me ! I have 

 only pheasant shot in my shells; however, I will let him 

 have it." But soon emerged from some underbrush a 

 black bear, making a beeline toward him. It, however, 

 turned up a ravine he was ascending; but Bruin chang- 

 ing his mind and wheeling sharply around came down 

 the hollow at right angles to my friend. When within 

 fifteen paces the sportsman blazed away at the "bar's" 

 head and roiled him over. But the shot only obfusti- 

 cated Bruin's intellect; and with a growl and a mighty 

 shake of his shaggy hide, he rose and was making off. 

 Another shot pounding away at his head made him 

 "heave to," describing a circle as if revolving on a pivot. 

 A third shot laid him out, to the great delectation of his 

 slayer, whose name would henceforth rank high on the 

 roll of Nimrod Hall sportsmen. The shot used was Eng- 

 lish chilled No. 6. Weight of bear about 2001bs. 



Departing from the subject of bears, I might say a few 

 words in the way of bulling the place at which I am stay- 

 ing. It is an excellent locality for sportsmen, especially 

 those who are fond of mountain shooting and fishing. 

 Bass fishing in the Cowpasture is capital, the fish rising 

 well to a fly, as it is very little fished. There are also 

 several mountain trout streams within easy distance. 

 No less than twelve bears have been killed up to the 

 present time this year. Also a large number of deer, of 

 which the mountains have been unusually full. Ac- 

 commodation excellent, and any one would be well taken 

 care of from a gastronomic point of view. 



Nimkod HALL, Bath County, Vh. H. E. W. R. 



IV. 



Editor Forest and Stream: 



I send you a letter received last December from my 

 brother in Oxford county, Maine, relating his experience 

 with a bear. The dog Prince mentioned in this letter is 

 a cross-bred bear dog, part hound and part mastiff — the 

 combination recommended to me by one of your Califor- 

 nia correspondents some time ago. It should be said , too, 

 that the dog had only just that week been sent from 

 Boston to my brother, and this hunt was his first oppor- 

 tunity to show his mettle. Bruin. 



The letter: Roxbury, Maine, Dec. 20.— Bear Brother: 

 We went down to Houghton's Monday morning and 

 started, four of us. Addison thought best to go up the 

 Lake road ; and if we found that the bear had crossed it, 

 that would save much travel. You may be sure it was 

 hard up those hills, with froni 8 to 12in. of snow. We 

 went to within a half mile of the place where you turned 

 off to go to the ponds, and there came on his track and 

 took it. The bear went to the west and northwest, of 

 course doubling and tacking as they always do. ' It was 

 a cold day and much wind; the meat froze in my knap- 

 sack. We were glad of the wind, for it kept up a noise. 

 We took dinner at noon, and went on and on. 



Finally we saw proof of his wanting to den up. We 

 saw several of such places, and were soon completely 

 thrown off, for there were tracks all about. As we were 

 cautiously walking about, Addison's hound gave tongue. 

 I turned and he was looking under a rock, but turned 

 about with the hah- up on his back. There was a low 

 bluff close by: Add made for that so as to be able to see 

 the bear if he started. His dog was there as soon as he 

 was, and rushed in front to the mouth of the den and 

 gave tongue. The bear's head came out and Add gave 

 him a big bullet from his breechloader. I sent one of 

 the terrible bullets from the little rifle into the fire and 

 smoke. Then Add sent in his other bullet. The other 

 men were over the other side. I set away the rifle and 

 went down into the den. Add's hound had his teeth 

 already in the bear. Prince was looking in ; I set him on 

 as well as I could, and he soon took hold, and I took a 

 leg, and we all began to pull and pulled him out. Prince 

 did not let go but held like at trap. We let him work 

 for a good while, and finally had to cuff him off; but he 

 would set to barking and clinch hold, and for a long time 

 after we began to drag the bear he would grab and hold 

 back and jump right on to the bear, and wanted to be 

 right up with his nose at the bear all the way. 



You may be sure we had a hard job to get the bear out. 

 After a long pull we reached the Bradeen branch of our 

 river; then went down on the ice, which was covered 

 with some Gin. of snow. The ice was very poor and kept 

 breaking. It took two of us to drag the bear and one as 

 beater ahead to see if the ice was safe, and the other as 

 rear guard loaded down with guns, etc., and to keep 

 Prince off. It seemed that we never should get out. We 

 started with the bear at 3 P. M., and at half -past nine 

 that night four Arctic travelers, covered with snow and 

 ice, could have been seen wending then - way in the 

 darkness up to Houghton's door — four tired, but happy 

 hunters. 



Prince's feet were badly used up; but he was ready to 

 pitch into Houghton's dog and defend the bear, Hough- 

 ton's dog (part bull) was very much afraid of the bear. 

 When the bear was getting out, Add's dog had faced him 

 like a rock; you see a hound can be a bear dog, but not 

 such hounds as you have. All were pleased with Prince. 

 Add said before we started that he was worth more than 

 all the dogs you had sent. At any rate, he is not afraid 

 of a dead bear, as Mage No. 2 was. The bear is a nice 

 one, some five years old and very fat. 



From some indications we thought this bear was not 

 the one that we saw the tracks of Saturday, so we started 

 yesterday morning and went far to the northeast and 

 took that track and followed around to the lake road, but 

 it was the same bear. 



The only drawback to our grand hunt was that you 

 were not in it. Your tired brother, S. 



V. 



A. year ago last November the writer and a schoolboy, 

 Grant, went out on the mountains west of Ralston to 

 hunt deer, enjoy the scenery and breathe the pure air of 

 a higher altitude. Years ago this region was .chopped 

 over for burning charcoal, and it has grown up with 

 second growth, which makes a good cover for deer and 

 other game. There was here also a small mining town, 

 which has long since fallen into decay; here and there a 

 foundation is all that remains. There are three old clear- 

 ings, all connected by a road which runs nearly east and 

 west. I watched on a runway between two of these clear- 

 ings, while Grant made a drive south of me, but he failed 

 to scare anything out. 



After he came back, I told him to wait where he was I 

 twenty minutes till I went out this old road to the third 

 clearing, and thence to what is known as the South Fork 

 of Red Run. Then he should beat the bush again. Thisjl 

 far we had seen nothing but a black squirrel, which II' 

 shot through the head with my repeater. 



in going to my new stand, I had to pass through the J I 

 middle dealing, which contains about two acres and* 

 where there were some wild apple trees besides some* 

 underbrush. As I walked rapidly into the clearing,,!! 

 something black shot out from under an apple tree, andB 

 loped toward the woods. Bear, thought I, as up went.!' 

 my .38-56 again; a sharp report rang out, and bruin turned li 

 a complete somersault in the dead grass. In a momentw 

 he struggled and rose upon his forefeet; the deadly rifle li 

 spoke again, and he rolled over dead, the second shorli 

 breaking his neck. About this time a boy came up thtli 

 road at a rate that would make a Dakota blizzard greerJi 

 with envy. 



Grant was surprised when he saw what I had and all 

 happier boy never carried a shotgun. It proved to be a* 

 cub of 90 or lOOlbs. weight and very fat. It had beerl! 

 eating apples under the tree; the remains of nibbleca 

 apples were proof that he was having a sumptuous re 

 past when disturbed. We strung him on a pole anc 

 marched into town. Redux. 



Lasgdon, Pa. 



HOW A "TARHEEL" KILLS DUCKS. 



EVERY rural community where there is game to be 

 iound, has its share of sporting curiosities. Thi; 

 community is no exception to that rule, and I believe 

 has more than its fair share of that particular species oi 

 the genus homo. The mode of hunting ducks by Johr 

 Shearin, one of these curiosities, a mild-eyed, innocent 

 looking native, with remarkably tough legs (which ht 

 uses to good advantage), in a tract of land near the Roa 

 noke River, commonly known as the "marsh" or "Sedgt 

 Pond," may not be without interest to some of the man} 

 readers of Forest a^i> Stream, 



The tract of land aforesaid is about two miles long bj 

 a half-mile in width, entirely covered with tall sedg<' 

 grass growing on tussocks, separated by shallow wate; 

 and mud in abundance. This tract of land has long beer 

 used as pasturage for large herds of cattle owned by th 

 neighbors. Each herd has the "old bell cow," well knowi; 

 to the rest of the herd and the small urchin sent to driv 

 them home at nightfall. Now, when Shearin, erstwhile 

 was an urchin, it was a part of his daily duty, Melibceui 

 or Corydon-like (I have forgotten which), to drive up hi; 

 father's flock when longer shadows fell from the tal, 

 sycamore, and the festive mosquito, of large parts anc 

 deep penetration, winged his eager flight to the adjacen 1 

 farmhouses in quest of more delicate morsels than tougL 

 cowhide. 



Now, young Shearin noticed that Sedge Pond was 

 frequently full of wild ducks, and to his surprise thej 

 did not fly from the very near approach of cattle — in fact 

 were not at all afraid of them. It seemed to him, as hi 

 stood with covetous eyes, that they rather liked the olo 

 bell cow and the " jangling of the bells sadly out o: 

 tune." When he grew up large enough to shoot and be 

 came the happy owner of an old, long, single-barrei 

 gun, with a silver spider sight, he cast longing eyes o^ 

 the ducks feeding on the marsh with the cattle. Now and 

 then, by the exercise of quiet patience, and the still moro 

 painful exercise of crawling through mud and water 

 always keeping a cow, generally the old bell cow, be. 

 tween him and a selected duck, he would bring one to bag* 



But this process had two serious drawbacks; its execu 

 tion was not only slow but too uncertain for him, andht 

 began to call on (to quote the words of the physiologists! 

 his ' "frontal cerebral convolutions" for a plan which woulc 

 satisfy Ms keen desire for baked duck. No one having 

 any degree of knowledge of phrenological science woulc 

 suspect Shearin of great creative genius. He hath not iti 

 massive forehead nor flashing eye. His imaginative pow 

 ers have never been stimulated by the delightful tales o: 

 Defoe or Robinson. But, nevertheless, one day, whilt, 

 "chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy" alonj? 

 with an enormous roll of old field tobacco reared ov 

 his own hillside, i t occurred to him that if he coul<^ 

 successfully personate a cow, his success in killing duck 

 was assured. There was the old bell cow leisurely crop, 

 ping the tender herbage 'neath the tall brown grass of tin' 

 marsh. It was only the work of a moment to detacl 

 the bell from her neck and securely fasten it to his owi 

 coat tail. With this appendage, born of inspiration, h( 

 boldly took up his line of march to a little pool of wate: 

 behind some tall marsh grass where he had just seen i 

 flock of ducks alight. They paid no attention to the bell 

 with the sound of which they were familiar. Hiddei 

 now by the tall sedge he selected a thick cluster of duck; 

 and fired. He was amply rewarded. The old gun hai 

 felled many an an tiered monarch and turkeys out of mind 

 Shearin got a bag full the first crack, and ran home ir 

 great haste to relate his good luck and exhibit his prettj 

 green-headed trophies. 



Since that time down to the present, any autumn day 

 John Shearin may be seen wading down in the marsl 

 with the old cow bell jangling along. John has, fron 

 long practice, become a fan wing shot, and the duckt 

 rising from right under his feet, he plugs them in th< 

 back. Formerly he took to the mud and water as kindlj 

 as the ducks themselves, but of late years he has growi 

 luxurious and indulges in a pair of rubber hip-booti 

 which protect him entirely. 



John has another plan of shooting ducks, which require 

 no expenditure of muscular force, to which he is some 

 what averse. He finds a deep piece of water in thi 

 Roanoke River or mill pond, where ducks frequenth 

 alight, and baits the place by sinking to the bottom bun 

 dies of oats and corn. When he finds that they are feed 

 ing on his bait, he builds a natural-looking hiding placi 

 on the bank at the right distance for a certain shot — saj 

 25yds. The ducks dive down to feed on the oats, ant 

 when they are all under water but one, he shoots tha; 

 one, and then one by one as they arise to the top of th« 

 water. The ducks under the water do not hear the re 

 port of the gun, and only come to the surface for air, a> 

 they ordinarily do. John has had as many as seven deat 

 ducks at one time floating on the water. This, I think 

 is almost as clever a trick as the Indian Sepoys practice 

 in floating down stream to flocks of ducks with thei: 

 heads encased in large gourds, with eye-holes cut for ai: 

 and observation. L. J. PicoT. 



Littleton, N. C. 



