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GRIZZLY BEAR-HUNTING. |
 | GRIZZLY BEAR-HUNTING. The hive of "The bee-hunter" |  |
GRIZZLY BEAR-HUNTING.
The every-day sports of the wild woods include many
feats of daring which never find a pen of record. Constantly,
in the haunts of the savage, are being enacted
scenes of thrilling interest, the very details of which,
would make the denizen of enlightened life turn away
with instinctive dread.
Every Indian tribe has its heroes; celebrated respectively
for their courage, in different ways exhibited.
Some, for their acuteness in pursuing the enemy on the
war-path; and others, for the destruction they have accomplished
among the wild beasts of the forest.
A great hunter, among the Indians, is a marked personage.
It is a title that distinguishes its possessor
among his people as a prince; while the trophies of
exploits in which he has been engaged, hang about
his person as brilliantly as the decorations of so many
orders.
The country in which the Osage finds a home possesses
abundantly the grizzly bear, an animal formidable
beyond any other inhabitant of the North American
forests—an animal seemingly insensible to pain, uncertain
in its habits, and by its mighty strength able to
overcome any living obstacle that comes within its reach,
as an enemy. The Indian warrior, of any tribe, among
the haunts of the grizzly bear, finds no necklace so honorable
to be worn as one formed of the claws of this
gigantic animal, slain by his own prowess; and if he
can add an eagle's plume to his scalp-lock, plucked from
a bird shot while on the wing, he is honorable indeed.
The Indian's “smoke,” like the fire-side of the white
man, is often the place where groups of people assemble
to relate whatever may most pleasantly while away the
hours of a long evening, or break the monotony of a dull
and idle day. On such occasions, the old “brave” will
sometimes relax from his natural gravity, and grow loquacious
over his chequered life. But no recital commands
such undivided attention as the adventures with
the grizzly bear—even the death of an enemy on the
war-path hardly vies with it in interest.
We have listened to these soul-stirring adventures
over the urn, or while lounging on the sofa; and the
recital of the risks run—the hardships endured—have
made us think them almost impossible, when compared
with the conventional self-indulgence of enlightened life.
But they were the tales of a truthful man—a hunter—
for his life, and who loved, like the worn out soldier, to
“fight the battles over,” in which he was once engaged.
It may be, and is the province of the sportsman to
exaggerate—but the “hunter,” surrounded by the magnificence
and sublimity of an American forest, earning
his bread by the hardy adventures of the chase, meets
with too much reality to find room for coloring—too
much of the sublime and terrible in the scenes with
which he is associated to be boastful of himself. While
apart from the favorable effects of civilization, he is also
separated from its contaminations; and boasting and
exaggeration are settlement weaknesses, and not the
products of the wild woods.
The hunter, whether Indian or white, presents one
of the most extraordinary exhibitions of the singular
capacity of the human senses to be improved by cultivation.
We are accustomed to look with surprise upon
the instincts of animals and insects. We wonder and
admire the sagacity they display, for the purposes of
self-preservation—both in attack and defence. The
lion, the bear, the beaver, the bee, all betray a species
of intelligence, that seems for their particular purposes
superior to the wisdom of man; yet, on examination,
it will be found that this is not the case. For all histories
of the human denizen of the forest show, that the
Indian surpasses the brute in sagacity, while the white
hunter excels both animal and savage.
The unfortunate deaf, dumb, and blind girl, in one
of our public institutions,[3]
selects her food, her clothing,
and her friends, by the touch alone—so delicate has it
become, from the mind's being directed to that sense
alone.
The forest hunter is compelled by circumstances to
cultivate his sight, to almost the same degree of perfection
characterizing the blind girl's touch, and experience
at last renders it so keen, that the slightest touch of a
passing object on the leaves, trees, or earth, leaves to
him a deep and visible impression, though to the common
eye unseen as the path of the bird through the air.
This knowledge governs the chase and the war-path;
this knowledge is what, when excelled in, makes the
master-spirit among the rude inhabitants of the woods:
and that man is the greatest chief, who follows the coldest
trail, and leaves none behind him by his own footsteps.
The hunter in pursuit of the grizzly bear is governed
by this instinct of sight—it guides him with more certainty
than the hound is directed by his nose. The impressions
of the bear's footsteps upon the leaves, its
marks on the trees, its resting-places, are all known long
before the bear is really seen; and the hunter, while
thus following “the trail,” calculates the very sex,
weight, and age with certainty. Thus it is that he will
are visible to his mind's eye, bear that are young and
old, lean and fat. You look into the forest, all is vacant;
the hunter, at a casual glance, detects where
has passed his object of pursuit, and grows as enthusiastic
over this spiritual representation as if the reality
was before him—and herein, perhaps, lies the distinction
between the sportsman, and the huntsman. The hunter
follows his object by his own knowledge and instinct,
while the sportsman employs the instinct of domesticated
animals to assist in his pursuits.
The different methods by which to destroy the grizzly
bear, by those who hunt them, are as numerous as the
bears that are killed. They are not animals which permit
of a system in hunting them; and it is for this reason
that they are so dangerous and difficult to destroy. The
experience of one hunt may cost a limb or a life in the
next one, if used as a criterion; and fatal, indeed, is a
mistake,—when you grapple with an animal, whose gigantic
strength enables him to lift a horse in his huge
arms, and bear it away as a prize. There is one terrible
exception to this rule; one habit of the animal may be
certainly calculated upon, but a daring heart only can
take advantage of it.
The grizzly bear, like the tiger and lion, have their
caves in which they live; but they use them principally
as a safe lodging-place when the cold of winter renders
them torpid and disposed to sleep. To these caves they
awakened by the genial warmth of spring. Sometimes
two occupy one cave, but this is not often the case, as
the unsociability of the animal is proverbial, it preferring
to be solitary and alone.
A knowledge of the forests, and an occasional trailing
for bear, informs the hunter of these caves; and the
only habit of the grizzly bear that can with certainty be
taken advantage of, is the one of his being in his cave at
the proper season. And the hunter has the terrible
liberty of entering this den single-handed, and there
destroying him. Of this only method of hunting the
grizzly bear we would attempt a description.
The thought of entering a cave, inhabited by one of
the most powerful beasts of prey, is calculated to try the
strength of the stoutest nerves; and when it is considered
that the least trepidation, the slightest mistake,
may cause, and probably will result, in the instant death
of the hunter, it certainly exhibits the highest demonstration
of physical courage to pursue such a method of
hunting. Yet there are many persons in the forests of
North America who engage in such perilous adventures
with no other object in view than the “sport” or a
hearty meal.
The hunter's preparations to “beard the lion in his
den,” commence with examining the mouth of the cave
he is about to enter. Upon the signs there exhibited,
he decides whether the bear be alone; for if there be
also thus known, and the time since he was last in search
of food.
The way that this knowledge is obtained, from indications
so slight, or unseen to an ordinary eye, is one
of the greatest mysteries of the woods.
Placing ourselves at the mouth of the cave containing
a grizzly bear, to our untutored senses, there would
be nothing to distinguish it from one that is unoccupied;
but let some Diana of the forest touch our eyes, and
give us the instinct of sight possessed by the hunter,
and we would argue thus:
“From all the marks about the mouth of the cave,
the occupant has not been out for a great length of time,
for the grass and the earth have not been lately disturbed.
“The bear is in the cave, for the last tracks made
are with the toe-marks towards it.
“There is but one bear, because the tracks are regular
and of the same size.
“He is a large animal; the length of the step and
the size of the paw indicate this.
“And he is fat, because his hind feet do not step in
the impressions made by the fore ones, as is always the
case with a lean bear.”
Such are the signs and arguments that present themselves
to the hunter; and mysterious as they seem,
when not understood, when once explained, they strike
and certainty of nature.
It may be asked, how is it that the grizzly bear is so
formidable to numbers when met in the forest, but when
in a cave can be assailed successfully by a single man?
In answer to this, we must recollect that the bear is
only attacked in his cave when he is in total darkness,
and suffering from surprise and the torpidity of the
season.
These three things are in this method of hunting
taken advantage of; and but for these advantages, no
quickness of eye, steadiness of nerve or forest experience,
would protect for an instant, the intruder to the
cave of the grizzly bear.
The hunter, having satisfied himself about the cave,
prepares a candle, which he makes out of the wax taken
from the comb of wild bees, softened by the grease of
the bear. This candle has a large wick, and emits a
brilliant flame. Nothing else is needed but the rifle.
The knife and the belt are useless; for if a struggle
should ensue that would make it available, the foe is too
powerful to mind its thrusts before the hand using it
would be dead.
Bearing the candle before him, with the rifle in a
convenient position, the hunter fearlessly enters the
cave. He is soon surrounded by darkness, and is totally
unconscious where his enemy will reveal himself.
Having fixed the candle in the ground in firm position,
flame soon penetrates into the recesses of the cavern—
its size of course, rendering the illumination more or less
complete.
The hunter now places himself on his belly, having
the candle between the back part of the cave where the
bear sleeps, and himself; in this position, with the muzzle
of the rifle protruding out in front of him, he patiently
waits for his victim. A short time only elapses
before Bruin is aroused by the light. The noise made
by his starting from sleep attracts the hunter, and he
soon distinguishes the black mass; moving, stretching,
and yawning like a person awaked from a deep sleep.
The hunter moves not, but prepares his rifle; the
bear, finally aroused, turns his head towards the candle,
and, with slow and waddling steps, approaches it.
Now is the time that tries the nerves of the hunter;
it is too late to retreat, and his life hangs upon his certain
aim and the goodness of his powder. The slightest
variation in the bullet, or a flashing pan, and he is a
doomed man.
So tenacious of life is the common black bear, that
it is frequently wounded in its most vital parts, and still
will escape, or give terrible battle.
But the grizzly bear seems to possess an infinitely
greater tenacity of life. His skin, covered by matted
hair, and the huge bones of his body, protect the heart
as if incased in a wall; while the brain is buried in a
bullet, striking the bear's forehead, would flatten, if it
struck squarely on the solid bone, as if fired against a
rock; and dangerous indeed would it be to take the
chance of reaching the animal's heart.
With these fearful odds against the hunter, the bear
approaches the candle, growing every moment more sensible of some uncommon intrusion. He reaches the
blaze, and raises his paw to strike it, or lifts his nose to
scent it,—either of which will extinguish it, and leave the
hunter and the bear in total darkness.
This dreadful moment is taken advantage of—the
loud report of the rifle fills the cave with stunning noise
—and as the light disappears, the ball, if successfully
fired, penetrates the eye of the huge animal—the only
place where it would find a passage to the brain; and
this not only gives the death-wound, but instantly paralyzes,
that no temporary resistance may be made.
On such fearful chances the American hunter perils
his life, and often thoughtlessly, courts the danger.
| GRIZZLY BEAR-HUNTING. The hive of "The bee-hunter" | |