§EPT. 23, 1905.] 
FOREST AND STREANl. 
^49 
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JL 
il. 
The Biography of a Bear. — I. 
I HAVE thought many times of writing the history of 
one of the most interesting and entertaining animals of 
my acquaintance, a cinnamon bear. It would seem that 
comparatively little is known of bears, for in such works 
upon natural history as have come under my reading 
bears are treated of with an indifference that suggests 
their having been examined through long distance tele- 
scopes — sometimes, indeed, with the small ends of those 
instruments directed to the objects, as if to make sure the 
animals were at a safe distance. 
There is of certainty plenty of lore regarding dead 
bears that have been killed by mighty hunters before the 
Lord, and others. Bears teally alive are exhibited, in 
contracted cages made of iron, chained to posts, or again, 
attached by means of a ring through their nostrils, to dis- 
reputable Italians or other obstacles. 
This history deals with a bear who had the disadvan- 
tage of human society, but who also_ had considerable 
freedom and. at times had opportunities to visit his 
natural haunts in the forests and mountains, and who, 
all things considered, proved himself worthy of an ac- 
. curate biography and a dignified position in history. An 
authentic account of the doings of a bear will doubtless 
appear ridiculous , to students who find biography fitted 
only to annals of people. , But if bears could read, im- 
agine how ridiculous they might think the tomes of his- 
tory that deal only with the doings of great men. 
About twenty years ago. there were yet a few Indians 
about the old town Shasta, in northern California, at 
that time a town of some 1,200 people. My home was on 
the edge of town, the house being upon a little hill, with 
about thirty acres of field, orchard and vineyard sur- 
rounding it. On the further side of the grounds from the 
road the last remnant of a tribe of Indians native to the 
region had their camp or rancheria. There were two 
families of the Indians, numbering about a dozen indi- 
viduals. They subsisted as best they might by doing 
drudgery for the white residents or spending the sum- 
mer seasons upon hunting and foraging trips in the sur- 
rounding mountains. 
, One morning I saw two of the Indian boys passing, 
one of them carrying something very carefully in _ his 
arms, wrapped in the tanned skin of a wildcat. Curious 
to know what they had I called to them and they stopped 
at the .gate. One of the boys was well grown and the 
other ten or twelve years of age. Both were barefoot 
and their torn and scant clothes suggested that they were 
just back from a rough trip in the mountains. 
‘‘What have you got there?” I inquired. 
^‘Little bear,”’ one of them replied. 
‘ “Let me see it,” I requested. 
There was a moment’s hesitation and the younger one 
spoke some words to his companion, who nodded, and 
they came forward and unrolled the small bundle, re- 
vealing a little bunch of brown, curly hair which was 
very much mixed wltli teeth and claws, while two bright, 
bead-like eves peered out in sullen fear. After staring a 
moment the little cub made a slight^ effort to escape, then 
covered its small head and face with its paws. It was 
not larger than my two fists. 
“He can bite,” said the elder boy. “He’s cross now.” 
I laughed at the notion of the little creature biting, and 
reached into the bundle to remove its paws so that I 
might see more of it. Instantly, with a startling snarl 
for so small a thing, it seized my hand with both teeth 
and claws and succeeded in pinching my fingers quite 
noticeably, at the same time scratching a mark upon the 
back of my hand. I withdrew my hand promptly, perhaps 
abruptly. 
“Yes'" he’s cross now,” I said with assurance. “Where 
did you get him?” 
■“My father kill big bear up in the Sacramento River 
Mountains ; its mother very large bear — maybe a thou- 
sand pounds heavy,” said one of the boys. 
“Do you want to sell the little bear?” I asked. 
The boys looked at each other, exchanged a few words 
in their own language, _ and one of them replied saying: 
“Not want to sell him.” 
“I will give $5 for him,” I said. 
Again the boys had a brief conference, both _ looLing 
into the catskin at the bunch of fur and ferocity, now 
asleep or making believe. 
“Not want to sell him,” they said decisively, and they 
passed out of the gate on their way._ 
“By and by, if you want to sell him, I will give $10,” 
I said as they left. _ . . 
They stopped and conferred, again inspecting their 
prize, but made no reply and soon passed out of sight in 
the direction of their camp. During the forenoon I saw 
them returning and they were carrying the same bundle 
carefully. They came through the gate and up to the 
house, and as I went to meet them the elder boy said : 
“You have cow for milk for feed him. I no have milk.. 
I will sell him.” 
“Yes, I have milk for him. I will give you the money.”' 
I found a box and a small blanket, and the boys, care- 
Iful to retain the wildcat skin, deposited the minute bear 
tin the box. I counted into their hands ten silver dollars — 
I a vast sum of money to them — yet it did not seem to 
please them greatly. As they left the house their thoughts 
were evidently of the little cub rather than with the 
money. ' The Indians have many fancies or superstitions 
connected with bears. 
After the boys had gone and left me in possession of 
the cub I began to wonder what I wanted him for and 
what I should do with him, it still persistently kept its 
eyes covered with its paws, the latter being largely', out 
o'f proportion to its other portions. My mother came put 
to see what I was occupied with, and promptly told me 
that we had no use for a bear. She said she w-ouldnT 
have it on the place, that there was nothing it would eat, 
that it would die and that I had better take it back to the 
Indians with whom it belonged. Things looked dismal 
for the little orphan of the mountains, but in less than a 
week he had become the most popular member of our 
domestic family at the barn. 
I found no difficulty in inducing Jack to drink milk; in 
fact, there was little difficulty in inducing him to eat al- 
most anything. The difficulty afterward became fonni- 
dable in preventing him from eating everything. I was in 
business in town and had but limited time at home. I 
fed Jack his milk in the morning and trusted to other 
members of the family to feed him during the day. When 
I inquired at night as to whether he had been fed I would 
learn that he had been — about a dozen times during the 
day — and it made little difference as to what the food was 
so that it was soluble, malleable or susceptible of fracture. 
He made rapid growth, and soon acquired an assurance 
and familiarity of deportment that verged upon forward- 
ness. Any portion of the premises or the house that he 
could get into he would enter without hesitation or other 
formality. It was often necessary to chain him in the 
barn when I was not at home to guide him as to social 
restrictions. 
Like most animals with which I have had experience, 
I found that Jack was not to be controlled by kindness 
alone, but I found him singularly susceptible to the least 
harsh treatment, and he unmistakably evinced almost as 
much affection as a dog as long as he w^as well fed. 
One day when I was feeding him I moved his pan of 
milk and bread and he snarled and snapped my hand, 
biting it slightly. Taking him by the back of the neck I 
got a small swdtch and whipped him smartly, although the 
smallness of the switch and the thickness of his coat pre- 
vented his being much pained. At receiving what he un- 
derstood to be punishment he lay flat on the ground, cov- 
ered his face with his paws and squalled like a particu- 
larly noisy child. After that, if at any time I took up a 
switch or whip, a flourish of it w-as enough to cause him 
to crouch low and squall lustily, not so much in fear as in. 
intelligent protest apparently. 
Jack soon hobnobbed familiarly with all the animals 
and fowls on the place. The poultry became accustomed 
to him, but he never allowed them to become too free at 
his meals. He had a fashion of slapping a fowl half way 
across the barnyard when it annoyed him, but he was 
never known to injure any of them. The cows and my 
horse seemed to fear him most, but they soon learned to 
treat him with indifference. This he liked sometimes to 
jar by standing suddenly upright and cuffing them on the 
side of the head. Sometimes the horse, with close calcu- 
lation, tried to retaliate with his heels, but Jack’s most 
scientific attainment was the art of being just out of 
reach at the critical time. The horse once got him by 
seizing him with his teeth, which was an unexpected at- 
tack. His lusty squall, and the rapid use of his teeth 
and claws caused the horse to drop him as though he 
were hot. 
Two large dogs were Jack’s chief companions. While 
lie was very young the dogs had much the best of him, 
and they would make it so busy for him that he would 
take to the trees in the yard for peace. A locust tree, 
that forked about ten feet from the ground, was his 
favorite refuge. When the dogs made too much enter- 
tainment for him he would reach the tree in a more or 
less masterly retreat, climb up it to the forks, hang him- 
self in the crotch and go to sleep with his head and heels 
dangling, looking like a dead one that some one had 
thrown up there. Often when the dogs were sound asleep 
on the grass he would slide down the tree — always back- 
ward — approach the dogs noiselessly, give them a lively 
surprise with teeth and claws and regain his perch before 
they got into action. At four or five months of age the 
bear, then weighing fifty or sixty pounds, was more than 
a match for the dogs in play. His tactics were altogether 
too scientific for them. When they charged him he would 
often receive them by su.ddenly standing upright, deliver- 
ing slaps right and left that would make their ears tingle 
and their jaws rattle. The dogs would either give up the 
game shortly or begin to slobber and get angry, at which 
stage Jack would either go up his tree or walk off with 
all the swagger of a victorious pugilist. 
The best of his entertainment he reserved for the un- 
sophisticated town dogs. Dogs of various styles and pat- 
terns sometimes came into the yard, scouting about after 
the manner of their kind. Invariably Jack saw them first. 
Standing behind a tree he scrutinized them with interest. 
On rare occasions he saw fit to withdraw by going up his 
tree. Commonly he seemed to decide that a new dog 
wasn’t very much, and he would wander out in a care- 
less, sleepy way, ignoring the surprised dog altogether. 
Usually the dog would be all wonder and curiosit}^ snif- 
fing and approaching, about half afraid, but insistent upon 
closer investigation. When his attentions became too per- 
sistent, Jack, who was all the time fully aware of every 
movement of the dog, would suddenly notice him and 
begin to shamble hurriedly away. But if the new dog 
thought to clinch the bluff by following it up, he ordi- 
narily made about three jumps, to be confronted by Jack 
in erect posture, and the next instant the dog would re- 
ceive a cuff, or a right and left that made him slobber or 
sent him spinning. If the dog was energetic and ambi- 
tious he would return to find that Jack was the most 
striking person he ever met. Just about the instant the 
dog expected tO’ grasp a good mouthful of bear, he re- 
ceived the disappointment of his life. He usually left, 
however, entirely satisfied from one point of view. 
Dogs are intelligent when not misled or overfed by 
mankind, and most of Jack’s canine visitors took their 
reception philosophically. They would often pass on and 
away without lingering. At other times some of them 
would sit down at a little distance, and, after some con- 
sideration, go about their ’business elsewhere. There are 
confidence operators among dogs, and some of them took 
their first reception playfully, with the sly intention of 
watching a better opportunity. Their diplomacy w^as hope- 
less, for Jack would delve one yard below their mines ifi 
cunningness. ITe often compromised in a good play with 
them, in which he was careful to be ringmaster. If a 
strange dog nipped him too severely, his upper lip would 
curl in a peculiar manner, and the dog presently realized 
that gentler manners were easier. With our own dogs 
Jack was soon upon the most confidential terms, and the 
three were often piled up together on the lawn asleep. 
Our house w’ as back from the road a hundred yards, the 
road passing over a knoll, and then down across a rocky 
creek. There was much traffic over the road, and many 
heavily laden wagons drawn by from two tO' twenty ani- 
mals passed daily, together with pack trains, stages, car- 
riages and so on. The bear was always first to know 
when anything was coming on the road. His hearing was 
notably acute and he might often be seen supplementing 
that sense with his nose lifted and sniffing. Long before 
wagons or animals appeared he would be on the alert, his 
usual tactics being to get behind a tree, . stand erect and 
watch intently. On such occasions he manifested much 
intelligence. To watch him studying passengers on the 
road, and to note his various expressions of wonder, 
curiosity, doubt or assurance, it would be impossible to 
assert that he did not think and reason upon the impres- 
sions conveyed by his eyes and nostrils to his brain. He 
never became, like the dogs, indifferent to the frequent 
familiar sounds on the road, but the noise of wheels or 
voices invariably made him alert. With most dogs the 
first impulse is to raise an alarm at a strange sight or 
sound or oftentimes a scent, but the bear’s actions all im- 
plied silence, caution, close observation, and readiness for 
retreat or concealment. Once assured as to new sights 
or sounds, it was amusing to see him shamble off, doubt- 
ful, disgusted, half-frightened, or satisfied and assured, 
drop down to sleep in indifference and confidence. 
From the gate to the house there was a brick walk for 
about a hundred yards, and it was Jack’s custom to meet 
all comers half way up the slope, when permitted, and 
e.scort them to the house. Strangers were usually sen- 
sitive to his advances, after he had grown formidable, and 
some of us had to keep an eye out for timid visitors. 
Bear and Book Agent. 
An instance of Jack’s method of reception was amusing. 
A man who might have been recognized by Sherlock 
Llolmes as a book agent, one morning entered the gate 
and approached the house. He wore smoked goggles, 
carried the usual hand bag, and strode up the walk with 
the, confident air of one who wishes to assure us that 
all the world is right and prosperous and in need of only 
his bock. He .was sallow and frail, but otherwise his 
demeanor, features and apparel implied that whenever he 
anchored in any haven, he would identify himself with 
temperance societies and Sunday schools. Not a wiekecl 
impulse in him. Mild, bland, soft-voiced and gentee'i, but 
persistent enough to sometimes sell a book. 
Jack met the man half way, and sauntering up to him 
in his lumbering style of locomotion, sniffed at the hand , 
bag. The agent looked at him through his goggles and 
then peered at him over them ; shifted his head aslant, to 
get another focus, a time or two, and then, with an as- 
sured, friendly chuckle said : “Ha, fine old fellow — good 
dog; come along, old chap!” Laying his hand upon Jack, 
he walked along with him and up the steps of the porch 
as though he was a zoo graduate, and had trained with 
bears particularly. He had mei-ely mistaken Jack for a 
good, safe kind of a dog. His smoked goggles, the heat 
and dust, and the size of the bear had deceived him. Be- 
sides, Jack felt like a big woolly dog. And so the agent 
rang the door-bell, while he placated the bear with soft 
words and gentle pats. 
The door was opened by my mother, and the agent, 
with the promptness of his kind, said : “.Madam, I have 
here a book that I have been assured will interest you. 
It—” 
“I’m busy,” replied ray mother, “and .cannot leave my 
cooking — ” 
“Ah, cooking ! This book. Madam, i,s the Capitol Coo.k 
Book — an encyclopedia of all the recipes recognize,d by 
reliable, caterejs. It contains famous formulas, all fhe 
modern methods, as well as the old, tried and true 
triumphs of our grandmothers. Many of the recipes have 
long been in use in the culinary department of the White 
Llouse, at Washington, indorsed by the various Presi- 
dents, from first to last. It is illustrated — ” 
“But,” interposed my mother, “my pies will burn and—” 
“Pies, Madam !” and the agent was fairly inspired with 
the word, “pies ! Ah — there is no such authority on pies 
as this book. Pies are the pride and proof of pastry. The 
proper preparation of a prime pie is the pinnacle of — of— 
piety. Pies are pre-eminently the product of patience and 
perseverance, preserved precepts and practices. Madam, 
prince and pauper, priest and prelate, president and poli- 
tician are partial to pie. In the Capitol Cook Book ai'c 
presented paragraph upon paragraph pertinent tO' possi- 
bilities in pies — positively prolific. Perhaps- — ” 
Jack was becoming impatient and inquisitive. He was 
trying to pry open the agent’s hand bag (perchance to 
see if it contained pie), while my mother tried to call the 
eloquent and alliterative gentleman’s attention to him. 
“Perhaps, Madam — never mind the dog. I’m fond of 
dogs — perhaps. Madam, few pies have pleased as many 
palates as the Pierce pie. A photograph of Mrs. Presi- 
dent Pierce prefaces the pie and pastry part of this book. 
President Pierce preferred pro-slavery propaganda to pie, 
perchance, but Mrs. President Pierce’s pie promoted the 
President’s . popularity. Her pastry — particularly the 
pie — ” 
The remainder of his peroration perished, for at or near 
the preface to Mrs. Pierce’s pie, Jack, disgusted with his 
failure to open the agent’s grip, gave it a slap that sent 
