Wild Beasts and Their Ways by Sir Samuel White Baker (adult books to read txt) 📕

I would never indulge in good resolutions again, that humanity was humbug, philanthropy puerile, and that the rule of success depended upon the principle "Never lose an opportunity."

I was fairly disgusted with myself, and calling my men, I described to them the magnificence of my lost stag. Instead of consolation they said, "Well, if you're come all this way to shoot, and you won't shoot, I don't quite see the use of your coming." That was all I received as a reward for having spared an animal's life which I did not wish to sacrifice wantonly.

"All right; go back and drive the covert to the end; you may depend upon it I'll take the next shot, whatever it may be." The men rode down the steep sides of the ravine, and we recommenced our beat.

Nothing moved for some time, and I mounted my horse as we were approaching the junction of the smaller ravine on my left, which formed the letter Y. I was about 100 yards ahead of my two men, and I descended into the stony depression, crossed the little stream, and ascended the opposite side with some little difficulty, as it was extremely steep, and, together with my 12 lb. rifle, cartridges, and a 26 lb. Mexican saddle, I rode about 18 stone. We reached the top, from which I could look down into the larger ravine on my right, and the lesser on my left, but a number of large rocks, 3 or 4 feet in height, and others of smaller size, made it difficult for my horse to thread his way. Just at this moment I heard the report of a revolver and shouts in high excitement--"The bear! the bear!" Before I had time to dismount in the awkward position among the rocks, I saw a large bear within two yards of me, as he had run at full speed up the steep bank from the bottom of the ravine without having observed me, owing to the rocks; he therefore passed close to my horse upon the other side, only separated from us by the large rock between. In an instant the bear, having seen the horse, turned to the left, and dashed down hill into the smaller ravine which I had just crossed. I jumped off my horse, and ran along the edge, ready to take a shot the moment that I could obtain a clear view of the bear, which I could see indistinctly as it ran along the bottom of the channel, in which was the trickling stream. As I followed, always keeping the animal within view, I felt certain that it would presently forsake this narrow gully, and would cut across the open to regain the large ravine from which it had been dislodged. I therefore raised the 150 yards sight as I ran along the edge, to be in readiness should it try the open. The bear kept me running at my best to keep it in sight, and I was just beginning to think it advisable to fire through the intervening bushes, when, as I had expected, it suddenly turned to the left, ran up the bank with extreme activity, and appeared upon the steep open grass-land, with the intention of cutting across to the larger hiding-place. This was a splendid chance, as the dark colour of the bear looked well upon the yellow grass. I made a most satisfactory shot with the .577 at 150 yards, the bullet passing through the kidneys, and the bear rolled over and over the whole way down the steep grassy hill, until stopped by the thick bushes, which alone prevented it from rolling into the streamlet at the bottom.

My two men came galloping up, and shortly dismounted, and we all descended to the place where the bear was lying, almost dead. In fact, it died while we were standing over it.

"Well done; that was a fine shot, and we've got the grizzly bear at last," exclaimed Jem Bourne. "THE bear? This is not the bear that Big Bill ran from," I replied; "impossible, this is a silver-tip, and not a true grizzly." The argument that ensued over the carcase of that bear was quite enough to make me an unbeliever in the ordinary accounts of native hunters. I calculated that the body weighed about 600 lbs., as my two men were 6 feet high, and exceedingly powerful, and our united efforts could not move the bear one inch from the spot where it had fallen; it may have exceeded that weight, as it was full of fat, and in the finest condition. We skinned it, and had some trouble to induce the horse to permit the hide to be lashed upon its back. Although a fine bear, Big Bill on our return would not acknowledge that it could be compared with the monster which he had seen with such "a smiling countenance." I was quite of his opinion, as the tracks which I saw in the snow were very much larger than the paws of the bear that I have described.

The foot of a bear leaves a print very similar to that of a human being who happens to be flatfooted, but the breadth is larger in proportion to that of a man. It is a curious fact, that a shot through the kidneys of any creature occasions almost instantaneous death, and the animal falls immediately, as though shot through the neck; this proves the terrible shock to the system, as the body is smitten with a total paralysis.

The opinions of professional hunters differ in such an extraordinary manner upon the question of bears, that it would be impossible for a mere visitor to arrive at a satisfactory decision. It is admitted by all that the grizzly bear is the monarch; next to him in size is the cinnamon bear, named from the colour of its fur; No. 3 is the silver-tipped; and No. 4 is the black bear.

The question to be decided remains: "Is the cinnamon bear the grizzly, with some local difference in colour?" My people called the silver-tipped bears "grizzlies," which was an evident absurdity; but, as they were men experienced in the Big Horn range, it was difficult to disbelieve their evidence concerning the occasional presence of a true grizzly. I found, whilst riding through an extensive forest of spruce fir, an enormous skull of a bear, the largest that I have ever seen, except that of the grizzly, compared with which all others were mere babies; what could this have been, unless a true specimen of that variety?

There can be little doubt that bears of different kinds intermingle occasionally by cross breeds, and many are met with which do not exactly correspond with the colouring which distinguishes the varieties already mentioned; but in my opinion those distinct varieties actually exist, and any departure occasioned by cross breeding is simply an accident. Eighteen months before my visit to the Big Horn range, the present Lord Lonsdale, together with a large party, was hunting upon the same ground, and at that time the country, being new to British sportsmen, was undisturbed. The bears were so numerous and unsophisticated that the party bagged thirty-two, and game of all kinds indigenous to the locality was in the superlative. It is astonishing that any game remains after the persistent attacks of gunners, especially in such countries, where open plains expose the animals to the sight of man. In the Big Horn range, at high altitudes of from 8000 to 12,000 feet, the open grass prairie-ground predominates. There are plateaux and hill-tops; deep canyons or clefts, from 1500 to 2000 feet sheer, like sudden rifts in the earth's surface; long secluded valleys, with forest-covered bottoms extending for many miles, and slopes of every conceivable gradient descending to a lower level of frightfully broken ground, joining the foot of the main range of Rocky Mountains at a distance of from 70 to 90 miles. There are also isolated patches of cotton-wood upon the sides of slopes, which afford excellent covert for deer and bears.

The actual width from margin to margin of the high land does not exceed 26 miles, although the length may be 100. It may readily be imagined that a month's shooting upon this area would be sufficient to scare the animals from the neighbourhood, more especially as the hunters are invariably on horseback, and traverse great distances each day.

When I was there we very seldom found bears upon the open, as they retired to the obscurity of the forests before break of day. Bob Stewart assured me that two seasons ago it was impossible to ride out in the early morning without seeing bears, but he counted up a long reckoning of seventy-two killed since the visit of Lord Lonsdale's party. This must have sensibly diminished the stock, and have afforded considerable experience to the survivors. Nevertheless upon several occasions bears exhibited themselves during broad daylight without being sought for.

We were tired of nothing but venison in every shape, and although the German cook, "little Henry," was a good fellow, he could not manage to change the menu without other provisions in the larder. I accordingly devoted myself one afternoon to shooting "sage-hens"; this is a species of grouse about the size of a domestic fowl, and, when young, there is nothing better. The old birds are not only tough, but they taste too strongly of sage, from subsisting upon the buds and young shoots of the wild plant. They were very numerous in certain localities, having much the same habits as the black game of North Britain, therefore we knew at once where to seek them.

Our camp was within a few feet of the little stream, just within the forest at the bottom of the valley; the dense mass of spruce firs extended for 8 or 10 miles along the slopes, only broken at intervals by gaps a few hundred yards wide, which divided the forest from top to base, and formed admirable places for ascending to the great plateau on the summit. This plateau extended for several miles, and was nearly level, the surface being liberally strewed with stones about 2 feet in length, but exceedingly flat, as though prepared for roofing slates; these had been turned over incessantly by the bears, in search for what Bob Stewart called "bugs"--the general and comprehensive American name for every insect.

We found a number of sage-hens upon this plateau, and I picked out the young ones with my rabbit rifle, as they ran upon the sage-covered ground. Texas Bill was soon loaded with game, and discarding the old birds that had been killed by mistake, we descended the grass-covered gap between the forests, and returned direct to camp. Little Henry had now a change of materials for our dinner.

It was nearly dusk, and I went into the small tent to have a hot bath after the day's work. I was just drying myself, after the operation of washing, when I heard an excited voice shout "Bears! bears!" It was useless for me to ask questions through the canvas, therefore I hurried on my clothes and ran out.

Texas Bill was gone. It appeared that two large bears had been seen as they came along the glen, and turned up the open slope, by which we had descended after shooting the sage-hens. My best horse had not been unsaddled, as the evening was chilly; therefore Texas Bill had immediately jumped into the saddle, and was off in full pursuit.

"What rifle did he take?" I inquired of little Henry. "He didn't take any rifle, but he's got his six-shooter, which is much better in his hands, as he knows it," was the reply.

There was very little light remaining, and