730 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[May 9, 1908. 
ing these away in their carts to vend along their 
routes. It is a sight to see the dexterity with 
which the big fat black women take off the 
heads and dress the fish, knowing in an instant 
the difference between the roe herring and the 
male. A haul of the seine at that place at night 
is something worth going many hundred miles 
to see, not to speak of the splendid fish supper 
which Mr. William Capehart serves to his 
I T is not so simple and easy a job as some 
folks imagine, for a long-experienced bear 
has more tricks up his sleeve than a heathen 
Chinee. A Detroit friend of mine—Mr. Elton, 
I will call him—tried it once a couple of years 
ago in the northern Peninsula of Michigan, in 
a locality chiefly tenanted by low mountain peaks 
connected by rocky ridges, small lakes and large 
swamps drained by little rivers, here and there 
stretches of native forest interspersed with 
burnt-over barrens, and an occasional home 
steader along the border. 
Elton, with a native Norwegian homesteader 
for a guide, was there late in the fall, deer hunt¬ 
ing, and having killed his quota his thoughts re¬ 
verted to a veteran bear known to frequent that 
region—not a short six-weeks’-Spanish-War 
veteran, but an old stager of respectable family 
descent, and ordinarily of good habits. A popu¬ 
lar social and family club—with fall “annex” 
for shooting—was located not far away on the 
Lake Superior shore. 
Occasionally a picnic, composed mostly of 
women and children, would meet this particular 
bear on some of the mountain trails, but he was 
too well-behaved to give them any annoyance 
except from fright. After standing up and look¬ 
ing them over carefully, just to see that no one 
had a rifle, he would quietly go on his way. 
Now and then, when very hungry, and no gun 
was in sight, he would raid the kitchen of some 
homesteader. Of course he cared nothing for 
dogs. After cleaning out a kitchen he would 
meander off without doing bodily injury to 
woman or child. 
It occurred to Elton one day that he would 
like to take the pelt of that bear home with him 
and make a rug for Mrs. Elton’s drawing room. 
Would not she be delighted? Of course she 
would. Accordingly, Elton said to himself, 
“That bear must die.” 
This is where Elton made a mistake. The 
bear skin he took with him when he went home 
was bought at a fur store. 
The guide John was well acquainted with that 
bear. They were on fairly good speaking terms 
though they had never shaken hands. They met 
occasionally, but never when John had a gun. 
John had tried his traps, but without success. 
Their relationship was one of friendly neutrality 
on the part of the bear, and of unfriendly neu¬ 
trality on John’s part. Hence John was quite 
willing to try again. 
The first week was spent in efforts to fool 
the bear. The next week the bear spent in fool¬ 
ing them. 
friends. Cue of the pleasantest things to me at 
t!ie Avoca fishery was a boldly painted sign 
bearing these words: “Customers and visitors 
are particularly asked to report any discourtesy 
on the part of anyone.” 
At Edenton, near Avoca, the United States 
has a very important fish hatchery, and to this 
the eggs are taken from the nets in all direc¬ 
tions. 
First they built a strong V-shaped inclosure 
and set a heavy steel spring bear trap in the 
opening of the V with, of course, the bait in¬ 
side. Going back the next day, they found foot¬ 
prints showing that the bear had been there, 
had inspected the pen carefully all around, had 
evidently given it his approval, and walked away. 
John then, after ejecting a few gentle cuss 
words, just to relieve his feelings, selected an¬ 
other favorable location and rigged up a dead¬ 
fall in such way that the bait on the spring 
trigger could be approached only from one direc¬ 
tion. Returning the next day they discovered 
that the bear had reached over the top of the 
spring frame from the other side and had taker, 
the bait off the trigger with such care and skill 
as to leave the deadfall intact and unsprung. 
It stood there just as John had built it, minus 
the bait. 
All this took place about four miles from 
camp. The fruitless tramping back and forth 
and the work involved, followed by no results, 
were rather trying on John’s temper, and ulti¬ 
mately caused him to demonstrate that he was 
a past master in the art of profanity. At last, 
with a well-selected assortment of sinful phrases, 
he expressed the opinion that while he was build¬ 
ing the deadfall, “the bear was sitting some¬ 
where in the bushes close by and watching him 
build it” and thus learned how to beat the game. 
John now looked up a fallen birch tree, hol¬ 
low from decay a few feet up from the butt. 
Getting another bait he pushed it up into the 
hollow trunk and set the trap a little outside it, 
but still well up in the hollow. A night or two 
following, the bear taught the hunters a new 
trick. He gnawed a hole in the side of the soft 
wood birch trunk opposite the bait, took the 
latter out and went away, doubtless to eat it 
in peace, and thereafter to dream sweetly and 
with happy thoughts of John. 
According to Elton's story he never fully 
understood the imprecatory possibilities of the 
English language as related to bears in general, 
and that bear in particular, until, during the 
next ten or fifteen minutes, he listened to John’s 
broken vocabulary. For an uneducated back- 
woodsman of foreign birth it was really sublime. 
Thus far operations had been conducted on 
the upland which was always more or less 
tainted with the human scent as left by our 
hunters or others or woodsmen. Possibly if 
the trap, were set in some place not associated 
in the bear’s memory with the odor and pres¬ 
ence of man, the animal might approach the 
bait with less suspicion. Accordingly, John 
looked up a bear trail which led into a dense 
swamp, broke his way in from another point, 
and in a favorable spot skillfully set the trap 
with an attractive bait, first attaching the trap 
chain—as he had done before—securely to a 
wooden clog about four inches in diameter and 
eight or ten feet long, so that if the bear was 
caught, instead of tearing loose, he would drag 
the clog and leave a good trail. Late the fol¬ 
lowing afternoon the guide went over, looked 
in, and everything was gone. The bear was 
fooled at last. 
At 4 o’clock next morning Elton and John 
started out, and reaching the place, quickly 
picked up the trail of the clog and followed it 
steadily and persistently for seven days over a 
territory about three or four miles long by a 
mile or two wide, over rocky ridges, through 
swamps, up and down streams, along or across 
deep gorges, etc. At times it was a hot trail, 
and once through a thick tangle of bushes they 
heard the rattle of the trap and chain. At one 
place the bear had stopped, and perhaps in a 
paroxysm of rage, or possibly to get rid of the 
trap, had beaten down a low but good-sized 
cedar tree, using the trap as a club. On one 
day the bear was accompanied by his mate and 
her cub. Once the trail of the clog led into 
a narrow shut-in gorge with sides so steep that 
apparently nothing but a bird could escape; but 
on entering the gorge, and sure of their prey, 
they found that the bear was missing. John in 
his disgust exclaimed: “I never saw such a bear; 
he hasn’t went; he has flew.” 
Near night on the seventh day the trail led 
into a dense swamp, but before going far they 
noticed that the trail of the clog was missing. 
Presently in the soft mud they came across the 
imprint of a short piece of chain with a broken 
link at its end. That told the story. As the 
bear could then travel much faster than they 
could, they were forced to abandon the chase. 
The joke was on them. Neither that bear nor 
the trap was ever seen or heard of afterward, 
at least in that locality. But the last time I saw 
John he was still abusing that bear. 
I was led to the writing of this sketch—of 
course with Elton’s consent, and substantially as 
he told it—by another incident which I think 
worthy of special record as an illustration of 
animal intelligence. At one place the trail of 
the clog terminated at one end of a tree which 
had fallen across a narrow gorge, and began 
again where the fallen tree rested on the oppo¬ 
site bank. But down the side of the gorge, 
across and up again, there was no track or trail. 
The tree was dead and was thickly studded 
along its sides with brittle but unbroken twigs 
or small limbs. Evidently the bear had crossed 
on that tree, and to do so without breaking 
some of the twigs on one side or the other he 
must have picked up and carried the clog under 
his trapped forearm as he went across. My 
friend Elton, as observant and truthful a sports¬ 
man as lives, was positive in his assertion that 
in no other way could that crossing have been 
made. Ordinarily I would regard such a story 
as impossible, but I have seen enough of animal 
life to admit that “the impossible” is what some¬ 
times comes to pass. 
The bear desferved his freedom, and got it. 
Elton concluded his narrative with the remark: 
“I hope that bear will live to a ripe old age, for 
I love him for the enemies he has made.” 
Foolirvg ©c Bear 
By SHAGANOSS 
