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The Hunters' Feast: Conversations Around the Camp Fire
Chapter Twenty One.
The Black Bear of America
After some time spent in recovering the horses, we lifted the bear into Jake’s waggon, and proceeded on our journey. It was near evening, however, and we soon after halted and formed camp. The bear was skinned in a trice, – Ike and Redwood performing this operation with the dexterity of a pair of butchers; of course “bear-meat” was the principal dish for supper; and although some may think this rather a savage feast, I envy those who are in the way of a bear-ham now.
Of course for that evening nothing was talked of but Bruin, and a good many anecdotes were related about the beast. With the exception of the doctor, Jake and Lanty, all of us had something to say upon that subject, for all the rest had more or less practice in bear-hunting.
The black or “American bear” (Ursus Americanus) is one of the best-known of his tribe. It is he that is oftenest seen in menageries and zoological gardens, for the reason, perhaps, that he is found in great plenty in a country of large commercial intercourse with other nations. Hence he is more frequently captured and exported to all parts.
Any one at a glance may distinguish him from the “brown bear” of Europe, as well as the other bears of the Eastern continent – not so much by his colour (for he is sometimes brown too), as by his form and the regularity and smoothness of his coat. He may be as easily distinguished, too, from his congeners of North America – of which there are three – the grizzly (Ursus ferox), the brown (Ursus arctus), and the “polar” (Ursus maritimus). The hair upon other large bears (the polar excepted) is what may be termed “tufty,” and their forms are different, being generally more uncouth and “chunkier.” The black bear is, in fact, nearer to the polar in shape, as well as in the arrangement of his fur, – than to any other of the tribe. He is much smaller, however, rarely exceeding two-thirds the weight of large specimens of the latter.
His colour is usually a deep black all over the body, with a patch of rich yellowish red upon the muzzle, where the hair is short and smooth. This ornamental patch is sometimes absent, and varieties of the black bear are seen of very different colours. Brown ones are common in some parts, and others of a cinnamon colour, and still others with white markings, but these last are rare. They are all of one species, however, the assertion of some naturalists to the contrary notwithstanding. The proof is, that the black varieties have been seen followed by coloured cubs, and vice versa.
The black bear is omnivorous – feeds upon flesh as well as fruit, nuts, and edible roots. Habitually his diet is not carnivorous, but he will eat at times either carrion or living flesh. We say living flesh, for on capturing prey he does not wait to kill it, as most carnivorous animals, but tears and destroys it while still screaming. He may be said to swallow some of his food alive!
Of honey he is especially fond, and robs the bee-hive whenever it is accessible to him. It is not safe from him even in the top of a tree, provided the entrance to it is large enough to admit his body; and when it is not, he often contrives to make it so by means of his sharp claws. He has but little fear of the stings of the angry bees. His shaggy coat and thick hide afford him ample protection against such puny weapons. It is supposed that he spends a good deal of his time ranging the forest in search of “bee trees.”
Of course he is a tree-climber – climbs by the “hug,” not by means of his claws, as do animals of the cat kind; and in getting to the ground again descends the trunk, stern-foremost, as a hod-carrier would come down a ladder. In this he again differs from the felidae.
The range of the black bear is extensive – in fact it may be said to be colimital with the forest, both in North and South America – though in the latter division of the continent, another species of large black bear exists, the Ursus ornatas. In the northern continent the American bear is found in all the wooded parts from the Atlantic to the Pacific, but not in the open and prairie districts. There the grizzly holds dominion, though both of them range together in the wooded valleys of the Rocky Mountains. The grizzly, on the other hand, is only met with west of the Mississippi, and affects the dry desert countries of the uninhabited West. The brown bear, supposed to be identical with the Ursus arctus of North Europe, is only met with in the wild and treeless track known as “Barren grounds,” which stretch across nearly the whole northern part of the continent from the last timber to the shores of the Arctic Sea, and in this region the black bear is not found. The zone of the polar bear joins with that of the brown, and the range of the former extends perhaps to the pole itself.
At the time of the colonisation of America, the area of the present United States was the favourite home of the black bear. It was a country entirely covered with thick forests, and of course a suitable habitat for him. Even to this day a considerable number of bears is to be found within the limits of the settlements. Scarcely a State in which some wild woodlands or mountain fastnesses do not afford shelter to a number of bears, and to kill one of them is a grand object of the hunter’s ambition. Along the whole range of the Alleghanies black bears are yet found, and it will be long ere they are finally extirpated from such haunts. In the Western States they are still more common, where they inhabit the gloomy forests along the rivers, and creek bottoms, protected alike by the thick undergrowth and the swampy nature of the soil.
Their den is usually in a hollow tree – sometimes a prostrate log if the latter be large enough, and in such a position as is not likely to be observed by the passing hunter. A cave in the rocks is also their favourite lair, when the geological structure of the country offers them so secure a retreat. They are safer thus; for when a bear-tree or log has been discovered by either hunter or farmer the bear has not much chance of escape. The squirrel is safe enough, as his capture will not repay the trouble of felling the tree; but such noble game as a bear will repay whole hours of hard work with the axe.
The black bear lies torpid during several months of the winter. The time of his hibernation depends upon the latitude of the place and the coldness of the climate. As you approach the south this period becomes shorter and shorter, until in the tropical forests, where frost is unknown, the black bear ranges throughout the year.
The mode of hunting the black bear does not differ from that practised with the fox or wild cat. He is usually chased by dogs, and forced into his cave or a tree. If the former, he is shot down, or the tree, if hollow, is felled. Sometimes smoking brings him out. If he escapes to a cave, smoking is also tried; but if that will not succeed in dislodging him, he must be left alone, as no dogs will venture to attack him there.
The hunter often tracks and kills him in the woods with a bullet from his rifle. He will not turn upon man unless when wounded or brought to bay. Then his assault is to be dreaded. Should he grasp the hunter between his great forearms, the latter will stand a fair chance of being hugged to death. He does not attempt to use his teeth like the grizzly bear, but relies upon the muscular power of his arms. The nose appears to be his tenderest part, and his antagonist, if an old bear-hunter, and sufficiently cool, will use every effort to strike him there. A blow upon the snout has often caused the black bear to let go his hold, and retreat terrified!
The log trap is sometimes tried with success. This is constructed in such a way that the removal of the bait operates upon a trigger, and a large heavy log comes down on the animal removing it – either crushing it to death or holding it fast by pressure. A limb is sometimes only caught; but this proves sufficient.
The same kind of trap is used throughout the northern regions of America by the fur trappers – particularly the sable hunters and trappers of the white weasel (Mustela erminea). Of course that for the bear is constructed of the heaviest logs, and is of large dimensions.
Redwood related an adventure that had befallen him while trapping the black bear at an earlier period of his life. It had nearly cost him his life too, and a slight halt in his gait could still be observed, resulting from that very adventure.
We all collected around the blazing logs to listen to the trapper’s story.
Chapter Twenty Two.
The Trapper Trapped
“Well, then,” began Redwood, “the thing I’m agoin’ to tell you about, happened to me when I war a younker, long afore I ever thought I was a coming out hyar upon the parairas. I wan’t quite growed at the time, though I was a good chunk for my age.
“It war up thar among the mountains in East Tennessee, whar this child war raised, upon the head waters of the Tennessee River.
“I war fond o’ huntin’ from the time that I war knee high to a duck, an’ I can jest remember killin’ a black bar afore I war twelve yeer old. As I growed up, the bar had become scacer in them parts, and it wan’t every day you could scare up such a varmint, but now and then one ud turn up.
“Well, one day as I war poking about the crik bottom (for the shanty whar my ole mother lived war not on the Tennessee, but on a crik that runs into it), I diskivered bar sign. There war tracks o’ the bar’s paws in this mud, an’ I follered them along the water edge for nearly a mile – then the trail turned into about as thickety a bottom as I ever seed anywhar. It would a baffled a cat to crawl through it.
“After the trail went out from the crik and towards the edge o’ this thicket, I lost all hopes of follerin’ it further, as the ground was hard, and covered with donicks, and I couldn’t make the tracks out no how. I had my idea that the bar had tuk the thicket, so I went round the edge of it to see if I could find whar he had entered.
“For a long time I couldn’t see a spot whar any critter as big as a bar could a-got in without makin’ some sort o’ a hole, and then I begun to think the bar had gone some other way, either across the crik or further down it.
“I war agoin’ to turn back to the water, when I spied a big log lyin’ half out o’ the thicket, with one eend buried in the bushes. I noticed that the top of this log had a dirty look, as if some animal had tramped about on it; an’ on goin’ up and squintin’ at it a little closter, I seed that that guess war the right one.
“I clomb the log, for it war a regular rouster, bigger than that ’n we had so much useless trouble with, and then I scrammelled along the top o’ it in the direction of the brush. Thar I seed the very hole whar the bar had got into the thicket, and thar war a regular beaten-path runnin’ through the brake as far as I could see.
“I jumped off o’ the log, and squeezed myself through the bramble. It war a trail easy enough to find, but mighty hard to foller, I can tell ye. Thar war thistles, and cussed stingin’ nettles, and briars as thick as my wrist, with claws upon them as sharp as fish-hooks. I pushed on, howsomever, feelin’ quite sartin that sich a well-used track must lead to the bar’s den, an’ I war safe enough to find it. In coorse I reckoned that the critter had his nest in some holler tree, and I could go home for my axe, and come back the next morning – if smoking failed to git him out.
“Well, I poked on through the thicket a good three hundred yards, sometimes crouching, and sometimes creeping on my hands and knees. I war badly scratched, I tell you, and now and then I jest thought to myself, what would be the consyquince if the bar should meet me in that narrow passage. We’d a had a tough tussel, I reckon – but I met no bar.
“At last the brash grew thinner, and jest as I was in hopes I might stumble on the bar tree, what shed I see afore me but the face o’ a rocky bluff, that riz a consid’able height over the crik bottom. I begun to fear that the varmint had a cave, and so, cuss him! he had – a great black gulley in the rocks was right close by, and thar was his den, and no mistake. I could easily tell it by the way the clay and stones had been pattered over by his paws.
“Of coorse, my tracking for that day war over, and I stood by the mouth of the cave not knowin’ what to do. I didn’t feel inclined to go in.
“After a while I bethought me that the bar mout come out, an’ I laid myself squat down among the bushes facing the cave. I had my gun ready to give him a mouthful of lead, as soon as he should show his snout outside o’ the hole.
“’Twar no go. I guess he had heard me when I first come up, and know’d I war thar. I laid still until ’twar so dark I thought I would never find my way back agin to the crik; but, after a good deal of scramblin’ and creepin’ I got out at last, and took my way home.
“It warn’t likely I war agoin’ to give that bar up. I war bound to fetch him out o’ his boots if it cost me a week’s hunting. So I returned the next morning to the place, and lay all day in front o’ the cave. No bar appeared, an’ I went back home a cussin’.
“Next day I come again, but this time I didn’t intend to stay. I had fetched my axe with me wi’ the intention of riggin’ up a log trap near the mouth o’ the cave. I had also fetched a jug o’ molasses and some yeers o’ green corn to bait the trap, for I know’d the bar war fond o’ both.
“Well, I got upon the spot, an’ makin’ as leetle rumpus as possible, I went to work to build my trap. I found some logs on the ground jest the scantlin, and in less than an hour I hed the thing rigged an’ the trigger set. ’Twan’t no small lift to get up the big log, but I managed it wi’ a lever I had made, though it took every pound o’ strength in my body. If it come down on the bar I knew it would hold him.
“Well, I had all ready except layin’ the bait; so I crawled in, and was fixin’ the green yeers and the ’lasses, when, jest at that moment, what shed I hear behind me but the ‘sniff’ o’ the bar!
“I turned suddently to see. I had jest got my eye on the critter standin’ right in the mouth o’ his cave, when I feeled myself struck upon the buttocks, and flattened down to the airth like a pancake!
“At the first stroke I thought somebody had hit me a heavy blow from behind, and I wish it had been that. It war wusser than that. It war the log had hit me, and war now lying with all its weight right acrosst my two leg’s. In my hurry to git round I had sprung the trigger, and down comed the infernal log on my hams.
“At fust I wan’t scared, but I war badly hurt. I thought it would be all right as soon as I had crawled out, and I made an attempt to do so. It was then that I become scared in airnest; for I found that I couldn’t crawl out. My legs were held in such a way that I couldn’t move them, and the more I pulled the more I hurt them. They were in pain already with the heavy weight pressin’ upon them, and I couldn’t bear to move them. No more could I turn myself. I war flat on my face, and couldn’t slew myself round any way, so as to get my hands at the log. I war fairly catched in my own trap!
“It war jest about then I began to feel scared. Thar wan’t no settlement in the hul crik bottom but my mother’s old shanty, an’ that were two miles higher up. It war as unlikely a thing as could happen that anybody would be passing that way. And unless some one did I saw no chance of gettin’ clar o’ the scrape I war in. I could do nothin’ for myself.
“I hollered as loud as I could, and that frightened the bar into his cave again. I hollered for an hour, but I could hear no reply, and then I war still a bit, and then I hollered again, an’ kept this up pretty much for the hul o’ that blessed day.
“Thar wan’t any answer but the echo o’ my own shoutin’, and the whoopin’ of the owls that flew about over my head, and appeared as if they war mockin’ me.
“I had no behopes of any relief comin’ from home. My ole mother had nobody but myself, and she wan’t like to miss me, as I’d often stayed out a huntin’ for three or four days at a time. The only chance I had, and I knew it too, war that some neighbour might be strayin’ down the crik, and you may guess what sort o’ chance that war, when I tell you thar wan’t a neighbour livin’ within less than five mile o’ us. If no one come by I knew I must lay there till I died o’ hunger and rotted, or the bar ate me up.
“Well, night come, and night went. ’Twar about the longest night this child remembers. I lay all through it, a sufferin’ the pain, and listening to the screechin’ owls. I could a screeched as loud as any of them if that would a done any good. I heerd now and then the snuffin’ o’ the bar, and I could see thar war two o’ them. I could see thar big black bodies movin’ about like shadows, and they appeared to be gettin’ less afeerd o’ me, as they come close at times, and risin’ up on their hind-quarters stood in front o’ me like a couple o’ black devils.
“I begun to get afeerd they would attack me, and so I guess they would a-done, had not a circumstance happened that put them out o’ the notion.
“It war jest grey day, when one o’ them come so clost that I expected to be attacked by him. Now as luck would have it, my rifle happened to be lyin’ on the ground within reach. I grabbed it without saying a word, and slewin’ up one shoulder as high as I could, I was able to sight the bar jest behind the fore leg. The brute wan’t four feet from the muzzle, and slap into him went wad and all, and down he tumbled like a felled ox. I seed he war as dead as a buck.
“Well, badly as I war fixed, I contrived to get loaded again, for I knowed that bars will fight for each other to the death; and I thought the other might attack me. It wan’t to be seen at the time, but shortly after it come upon the ground from the direction of the crik.
“I watched it closely as it shambled up, having my rifle ready all the while. When it first set eyes on its dead comrade it gave a loud snort, and stopped. It appeared to be considerably surprised. It only halted a short spell, and then, with a loud roar, it run up to the carcass, and sniffed at it.
“I hain’t the least o’ a doubt that in two seconds more it would a-jumped me, but I war too quick for it, and sent a bullet right plum into one of its eyes, that come out again near the back o’ its neck. That did the business, and I had the satisfaction to see it cowollop over nearly on top o’ the other ’n.
“Well, I had killed the bars, but what o’ that. That wouldn’t get me from under the log; and what wi’ the pain I was sufferin’, and the poor prospect o’ bein’ relieved, I thought I mout as well have let them eat me.
“But a man don’t die so long as he can help it, I b’lieve, and I detarmined to live it out while I could. At times I had hopes and shouted, and then I lost hope and lay still again.
“I grew as hungry as a famished wolf. The bars were lying right before me, but jest beyond reach, as if to tantylise me. I could have ate a collop raw if I could a-got hold of it, but how to reach it war the difeeculty.
“Needcesity they say is the mother o’ invention; and I set myself to invent a bit. Thar war a piece o’ rope I had brought along to help me wi’ the trap, and that I got my claws on.
“I made a noose on one eend o’ it, and after about a score o’ trials I at last flung the noose over the head o’ one o’ the bars, and drew it tight. I then sot to work to pull the bar nearer. If that bar’s neck wan’t well stretched I don’t know what you’d call stretchin’, for I tugged at it about an hour afore I could get it within reach. I did get it at last, and then with my knife I cut out the bar’s tongue, and ate it raw.
“I had satisfied one appetite, but another as bad, if not wusser, troubled me. That war thirst – my throat war as dry as a corn cob, and whar was the water to come from. It grew so bad at last that I thought I would die of it. I drawed the bar nearer me, and cut his juglar to see if thar war any relief from that quarter. Thar wan’t. The blood war froze up thick as liver. Not a drop would run.
“I lay coolin’ my tongue on the blade o’ my knife an’ chawin’ a bullet, that I had taken from my pouch. I managed to put in the hul of the next day this away, now and then shoutin’ as hard as I could. Towards the evenin’ I grew hungry again, and ate a cut out o’ the cheek o’ the bar; but I thought I would a-choked for want o’ water.
“I put in the night the best way I could. I had the owls again for company, and some varmint came up and smelt at the bars; but was frightened at my voice, and run away again. I suppose it war a fox or wolf, or some such thing, and but for me would a-made a meal off o’ the bar’s carcass.
“I won’t trouble you with my reflexshuns all that night; but I can assure ye they war anything but pleasant. I thought of my ole mother, who had nobody but me, and that helped to keep up my spirits. I detarmined to cut away at the bar, and hold out as long as possible.
“As soon as day broke I set up my shoutin’ again, restin’ every fifeteen minutes or so, and then takin’ afresh start. About an hour after sun-up, jest as I had finished a long spell o’ screechin’, I thought I heerd a voice. I listened a bit with my heart thumpin’ against my ribs. Thar war no sound; I yelled louder than ever, and then listened. Thar war a voice.
“‘Damn ye! what are ye hollowin’ about?’ cried the voice.
“I again shouted ‘Holloa!’
“‘Who the hell’s thar?’ inquired the voice.
“‘Casey!’ I called back, recognising the voice as that of a neighbour who lives up the crik; ‘for God’s sake this way.’
“‘I’m a-comin’,’ he replied; ‘’Taint so easy to get through hyar – that you, Redwood? What the hell’s the matter? Damn this brush!’
“I heard my neighbour breakin’ his way through the thicket, and strange I tell ye all, but true it is, I couldn’t believe I war goin’ to get clar even then until I seed Casey standin’ in front o’ me.
“Well, of coorse, I was now set free again, but couldn’t put a foot to the ground. Casey carried me home to the shanty, whar I lay for well nigh six weeks, afore I could go about, and damn the thing! I han’t got over it yet.”
So ended Redwood’s story.
