228 
FOREST _ AND STREAM* 
[March 22, 3902.. 
A Cannibal Bear. 
George has had a wide range of experience with bears, 
but never found another bear just like the one that figures 
in this story, which had acquired a taste for the flesh of 
his kind, and preyed on other bears at a time when other 
food was obtainable. 
"I was trapping one fall away from home," said George. 
"It was a good season for wild fruit—nuts and bef ries 
were plentiful — and the bears were out late. One day 
the snow fell six inches deep. That morning when I 
left camp I came across three bear tracks. There were 
two cubs and a she bear. I followed the tracks to where 
they had denned up and got all three. 
"Next dav I found an extra large track. I followed it 
all day and had to give it up at night. I went back to 
camp and got my blankets and ax, and the next day with 
my friend I went after that bear again. We followed 
him for two days. He was wandering around and never 
got very far away from our camp. We thought he was 
looking for a place to den up, but I found afterward it 
was something else he was looking for. Finally we had 
to give it up and leave the track. 
"The next day when I left my camp I came on fresh 
tracks of this same bear close by, and I saw that his 
tracks were bleeding. . I followed them back and found 
what he had been up to. 
"He had at last discovered another small bear in his 
den, and he had rooted him out and killed him and eaten 
him all. up. There was nothing left but some hair and 
teeth and a piece of the skull. In the fight the other 
bear had bitten him in the feet and that made them 
bleed. We followed his track two days more, but didn't 
get him, and then we had to give it up, for we had no 
more grub. That big bear had plenty else to eat, but he 
liked bear's flesh the best." 
. . At Close Quarters. 
There are mishaps in all professions, and sometimes 
the tables are turned on the professional bear hunter. 
The nearest George ever came to suffering at the claws 
of a bear was once when two cubs sprung one of his 
traps, .one being caught by a front leg and the other by 
a hind leg, When George appeared on the scene the old 
mother bear sat beside the two trapped cubs, and George 
made his first error of judgment, supposing that it was 
the old bear that was caught, and that the young ones 
were influenced to remain solely by their instinct of 
fillial affection. 
George wanted all the bears, so he fired at the cubs 
first. Cub No. 1 fell dead with a bullet through its brain, 
but the second cub was only wounded, and enraged by its 
cries the mother started for George, rising on her hind 
legs and cracking her teeth. Seeing that she was free 
from the trap, George fired at her head and she dropped 
and lay as if dead. 
Here George made his second error of judgment. It 
happened when he was much less experienced than he is 
now. . He set up his rifle against a tree, and with only his 
tomahawk, in hand advanced toward the bear. The ani- 
mal lay perfectly still, but just as he reached it George 
noticed by the expression of intelligence in its eye that it 
was watching him. The next instant the bear reached for 
George and almost got him. His tomahawk was broken 
and his stockings torn. Fortunately, his gun was near 
at hand, and George reached the place a little quicker 
than the bear, and was master of the situation once more. 
A slower man than George might not have reached the 
gun, in which case he Avould have paid dearly for his 
mistakes. 
Some Adirondack Yarns. 
Mort Moody's story-telling habit seems to have affected 
the majority of tne Adirondack guides. Old Court 
Moody,, they say, is a great trapper. All he has to do 
when he wants muskrat pelts is to go to the bank of the 
Saranac River and call "Moody, Moody," and the rats 
come trooping out to be skinned. 
Charley Stevens, another old-time "rusty trapper" can 
"make a saple and catch him in twenty-four hours with 
a darn good coat of hair -on its back." Mort Brewster and 
Sam Barton, of the Marcy trail cabin, told stories illus- 
trating the idiosyncrasies of some of the would-be sports- 
men who visit the Adirondacks. Barton started to drive 
a deer out to a city man on a runway last fall, and suc- 
ceeded instead in sending out a good lively specimen of a 
bear. The city man banged aAvay at the bear with a 
buckshot gun, but never even hit the timber, his broad- 
sides going over the tops of the tree. When Barton 
reached the spot the city man described the affair 
graphically, and wound up by asking Barton if he had not 
heard the bear yell when he fired. "Why, certainly I 
didn't," said Barton. "You hollered so yourself I couldn't 
hear anything else."^ As a matter of fact, the city man, as 
is often the case with green hunters, had been so badly 
rattled that he first fired at random and then when the 
game didn't fall dead at the sound, called frantically for, 
his guide to stop the bear, 
Rogers' Blind-Boarded Bull. 
This suggested the story of Rogers' blind-boarded bull. 
Twenty-eight years ago Barton was starting the dogs 
over 1 toward the middle kilns on the east side of Cata- 
mount Mountain. As he returned along one of the ridges 
he saw a big Durham bull belonging to a man named 
Rogers traveling through the second-growth cherry brush 
in the general direction of Jerome Snow and Johnnie 
Agnew, who were watching on stands nearly a quarter of 
a mile away. The bull had a good-sized blind board 
fastened from its horns, and any one with half an eye 
could see that it was not wild game. Jerome Snow, how- 
ever, had sampled the contents of his pocket flask so often 
that he was not in a condition to discriminate nicely, and 
at his first sight of the bull in the bushes he yelled to 
Johnnie Agnew, "A bearl A bear!" and opened fire. 
Before Barton could intervene a good deal of ammunition 
had been wasted on the bull,, but fortunately for the 
marksman their aim was very bad and the bull escaped. 
The standing joke after that was to bellow like a bull 
at Jerome Snow. 
Whisky is no longer the essential in the hunter's out- 
fit it was at the time when the man who outfitted for a 
week's trip procured four gallons of whisky and a loaf 
g$ bread, and was criticised by hi? companion op the 
score that he had brought too little whisky and too much 
bread. 
Whisky was often responsible for atrocious shooting 
on the part of naturally good marksmen. One such 
hunter who had emptied his magazine without result at a 
deer, which crossed the road within thirty feet of where 
he stood, explained his miss by stating that he saw 
the deer double and kept shooting at the wrong one. 
Playfng a Tenderfoot. 
"We had a fellow in camp with us one time who 
queered our hunting so that we didn't get a deer," said 
Brewster. 
"He was a drug clerk, named Lamp. We taught Mr. 
Lamp a lesson before he got out of the woods. 
"I took my dog, old Lunk we called him — he was a 
great dog for a hang on in a stream — and I drove a deer 
right down to where this Lamp stood, and as I heard 
a shot about the right time, I never thought but what 
there'd be venison in camp. When I got there I found 
the man had shot a partridge. Said just after he shot he 
saw the dog come along and cast up stream and down, 
and then take the back track away from there. Had 
just deliberately wasted his chance of getting that deer 
that I and old Lunk had been at so much trouble to send 
him. 
"When we got to camp I told Sam about it before the 
drug clerk, and he looked the fellow over and said, 'You 
prepare an altar, Mort, and we'll offer up a sacrifice. 
I've got the lamb for it.' 
"That was just a sample .of the way Lamp spoiled our 
buck when we came out. Sam put up a job on him. 
He told him I'd killed a nice buck down stream about 
three miles, but that we hesitated about carrying it out, it 
was such a task to get it. Finally Sam suggested that 
we flip up a cent to see who got the deer. He had 
it all fixed, so that it fell to Lamp — a professional gambler 
couldn't have done it better — and off Lamp went for the 
deer. Three days after we left, a party came out from 
the still waters of Cold River, and reported that they 
met Lamp three miles from Moose Pond, in the vicinity 
of where Sam said the deer was, still looking for it." 
A Little Learning, 
The wooded island in the stream is reached by a sub- 
terranean passage, which emerges behind the shelter of a 
teepee. The daily newspapers had it that La Bris, *he one- 
armed French-Canadian . trapper, who has a cabin on the 
island, had lost his arm as the result of an encounter 
with a bear. To get the details of the story, I visited the 
island, and seated on a bench beside La Bris and his 
companion. Arthur Pineault, inquired about the accident. 
"Him f adder shoot arm off with gun," said Pineault. 
"They go to Big Island, Saw some ducks in water. The 
gun she lay on the bed. Fadder take gun " 
"I see," said L "Do you trap many bears?" 
Pineaiilt took my pencil and wrote down "menk, 
mouskerat. fox, bob-cart." 
"Cat!" I said. 
"No," said Pineault, "b-o-b-c-a-r-t." 
Squatted on a pile of shavings near by, Kabiosa was _ 
whittling arrows from bolts split from a straight-grained 
cedar block, using a knife that_ was as crooked as a 
farrier's, and drawing it toward him as the Qiinese work. 
A chubby Indian boy four or five years old wanted a 
paddle, and Kabiosa gravely proceeded to fashion one. 
When he had finished he called the child to him, and 
patting his own nose with his finger said, "Now, pay me 
for it." 
The little rascal refused, however, the tribute of an 
Indian kiss, and snatched the paddle and ran off laughing. 
"I am tired," said the old Ojibway; "tired of talk. I was 
once brain broken." -"How was that?" I asked. "From 
over study," said the Indian. 
I looked at him inquiringly, but there was no sugges- 
tion of a smile. 'Were you studying for the priesthood ?" 
I asked. 
"Not exactly that — it was study." 
Further than this he did not explain. Only he said, 
"What little brain I had once, now I think I have lost. 
Of the questions every one asks there is no end." 
Big Game with Small Shot. 
Kabiosa volunteered this information, that he still uses 
bow and arrow for killing partridge and rabbits. Joe 
Francis once killed a caribou with No. 7 shot. Mr. Har- 
ris, of the C. P. R., showed me the skin of a large moose 
which had been killed with BB shot at a probable dis- 
tance of about thirty yards. It was killed by Chief 
Baumeguinck. We counted the pellets in the skin over 
the animal's foreshoulder and found that forty-two pel- 
lets had hit the moose. The shot made a good open 
pattern, which would have killed a partridge without 
tearing it. 
Holding a Bear by the Ears. 
"My grandfather's brother had a hand to hand fight 
with a bear," said Joe Francis, the Maine Penobscot In- 
dian guide. He was paddling down a stream and saw a 
bear and two cubs in the water ahead. He killed the 
cubs with his hatchet and then paddled to head off the 
she bear from the shore. He was tending his muskrat 
traps and had no gun. 
"There was an ox-bow bend in the stream only a few 
feet across, and as the bear landed on this my grand- 
father's brother jumped ashore to head her off. As he 
raised his hatchet to strike it caught in an alder branch 
and was flipped out of his hand, and the bear, which was 
standing up, grabbed both his arms and drawed him to- 
ward her. She was going to bite him in the face. 
"He grabbed the bear by both ears and held her off, 
and there they stood face to face. The bear gradually 
sunk its claws through the muscles of his arms, and he 
lost a good deal of blood, but he hated to let go for he 
knew the bear would bite him if he did. 
"At last he dropped his right hand and reached for his 
sheath knife in his belt. The bear snapped her head 
round on his left wrist and bit it, so that it looked till they 
buried him as though it had been shot through with buck- 
shot. With his right hand he slashed underneath at the 
bear, and as luck would have it, he missed the ribs and 
ripped her right open. She held him fast till her in- 
sides ran out. Afterward he had to paddle two miles, to 
camo and be was laid up all that summer from his bites." 
J. B, BmtN«4HC. 
CHICAGO AND THE WEST 
Western Dock Shooting Begics. 
Chicago, III., March 13. — A phenomenally warmi 
spell of weather still obtains here, and the winter seems 
to be badly damaged if not entirely shelved. The streams 
are taking on greater volume daily, and indeed all thiags, 
augur as good a season for spring duck shooting as cam 
be expected in this part of the world. Within a few- 
days the ice should be out of our lakes and marshes,, 
and this is enough to hold for a time at least the early 
flight which has already appeared at this latitude. Three; 
days ago the ice was still holding at Fox Lake, in upperr 
Illinois, only the river being open, but the birds were in;, 
and a few shooters, among these Eddie Pope, of this- 
city, had a short taste of sport. Mr. Pope only got a< 
half dozen birds or so, but one of these was a good, fafc 
canvasback, which he said proved delicious on the table;. 
He thinks Fox Lake will open within a few days. 
Hennepin Club has formally opened the spring season, 
and a number of shooters go to that club this ,evening, 
among these Mr. J. V. Clarke and two relatives, who to- 
day confidently expressed the belief that they would strike 
the marsh at just about the right time. 
Mr. Hempstead Washburn e and Mr. W. L. Wells left 
last night for a try for a mallard or so at Goose Lake. 
111., at a small preserve near the Kankakee. Wagers 
were made to-day that they would get a dozen birds be- 
tween them. Nobody expects any more to make a big. 
bag in this much-shot country, and more interest attaches- 
to a bag of a dozen birds to-day than would have %esa 
shown over one of fifty a few years ago. 
Snipe. 
A great eagerness prevails among Chicago shooters- to> 
get track of good jack snipe grounds loeated in. the State' 
of Illinois and not too far from Chicago. The license- 
law in Indiana keeps most of the snipe shooters of Chi- 
cago out of that State. Momence, Mineral, and Morris- 
are three points mentioned favorably, and attention is 
called by the knowing ones to the inland sloughs- west 
of this city. Mineral is the best of the three fesalities, 
named. 
OK the Reservation. 
Mr. Sam F. F«l' er ton, the executive agent of the Min- 
nesota game and fish commission, paused at this office 
long enough to say good morning one day this week. 
He is off his reservation for a little side hunt. M'lJitie 
sota is still there, and the game is increasing uiw&s 
hustling Fullerton. 
iBetter than Ever. 
"Wonderland" for 1902 is better than ever. Mr. Oliro 
D. Wheeler, of the passenger department of the Northern: 
Pacific railway, succeeds in infusing a genuine literary 
flavor as well as a vital news interest into these annual 
contributions to railroad literature. Mechanically, as well, 
the current number is beautiful and artistic beyond com- 
parison with the products of railway bonk making in 
the past. The landscapes are splendid and the game 
pictures especially stirring. 
Phenomenal Western Flight of "Wildfowl. 
March 15. — As was stated in these columns last week, 
there appeared some ten days ago indications of the be- 
ginning of the duck flight in this part of the country. 
It was supposed that the week just past would witness 
some shooting, of about the average extent known in the 
past few years. Nobody predicted or suspected thai', 
there would be any such happenings as have gone on in' 
this quiet region for the last four or five days. In short, 
we have had this week the heaviest flight of pintails and 
mallards recorded for twenty years, and old shooters of 
the Illinois valley say that not in thirty years have they 
ever seen so many pintails as came up the Illinois valley 
the first two or three days of this week. What the fiighf 
of bluebills and redheads may mean later it is only guess - 
work to predict, but certainly the early marsh ducks have' 
not altogether left the old Mississippi flyway in their 
spring flight. 
- It is not known whether or not all this tremendous flight 
of wildfowl has" gone on north beyond this latitude at this_ 
writing, but the likelihood is that this heavy and con-' 
centrated flight is to be but a matter of a few days dura- 
tion. The causes of it are equally problematical Of 
course there is the jubilant outcry of the man who says 
there are "just as many ducks to-day as there ever 
were." To this little attention need be paid. Perhaps the 
better enforcement of the spring shooting laws in neigh- 
boring States, perhaps the increasing respect shown for 
game laws all over the West, may have something to do 
with the greater abundance of birds this year. Older and 
conservative shooters, however, believe that the heavy 
flight on the Illinois River valley is due to the fact that 
many of the large marshes like the Winnebago marsh 
are dry this spring, so that the birds have been concen- 
trated and not scattered over a wide stretch of country. 
As to the figures, which, of course, will prove to be the 
most interesting feature of this interesting news, it may be 
stated that on last Monday Harry Dunnell, at Fox Lake, 
111., bagged 125 birds, mostly pintails. This pintail flight 
seems to have swung from the Illinois River directly up 
on the Fox Lake line, for on Monday and Tuesday but 
few birds were reported on the Tolleston marsh. It is 
probable that the great army of pintails traveled steadily 
northward along the big waters and did not stop to feed, 
for the heaviest bags made on the lower Illinois River 
grounds, where are located several prominent sporting 
clubs, were made in the early days of the week. On one 
such preserve a shooter who does not care to have his 
name quoted killed 102 birds on last Tuesday, shooting 
in the same boat with one of the best known pushers of 
the club. On Wednesday of this week yet another Chi- 
cago gentleman, who likewise declines to have his name 
mentioned, bagged an even 100 birds, the same pusher 
being in the boat with h"m. The pusher killed only about 
40 of the birds. The flight is described by both of the 
above gentlemen as being the heaviest they had ever seen. 
The pintails came in in swarms, and decoyed beautifully, 
coming directly to the guns, flock after flock, in appar- 
ently unending stream. The sight on this big marsh at 
