Two miles farther I crept as close as I could and paused to watch. The mother was digging, the cub watching eagerly. As her digging continued for some time, he moved away, sniffed two or three times, and then began digging rapidly on his own account. While both were digging, there was a whir of wings and a sweep of shadows, and a flock of white ptarmigan alighted among broken ledges near by. While I was watching them, a flock of mountain sheep came along the out-thrusting ridge and paused to play for a few moments on the sky-line. In pairs they faced, then reared up and sparred with their horns; they cut lively circles around one another. A rugged, snowy peak loomed grim behind the scene, and the dense forest spread away for miles below. The bears, the ptarmigan, and the sheep, the white peak, the purple forest, and the blue sky gave me a striking experience and left a splendid picture. As I turned to go, the cub was giving all his attention to the play of the sheep.

The almost continual play of the cubs is a never-ending source of interest. They race, they wrestle, they box, and they play hide and seek with utmost enthusiasm. They climb upon mother's back, they swat and pummel her and maul her. She will endure this by the hour with absolute indifference. Mother sometimes plays with the cubs but more often lets them play with her, or, unconcerned, simply watches them in their scrambles.

Playing cubs are strikingly boylike in their ways. They tumble and roll about with lively energy. Their boxing is a ludicrously earnest show.

Standing up they clinch, struggle, break away and watch for a new advantage. They strike first with one paw, then with the other, then with both at once. They come close, dodge, and jump back; they hold one paw high and the other low; sometimes they guard the face with one arm while striking with the other. Often they strike wildly, evidently intending to miss; they bristle up, growl, and have great fun, pretending to be more in earnest and terrible than they really are.

No two boys ever had more excitement and fun swimming in a river than did two cub bears whom I once watched. These cubs raced, splashed, and pushed one another under the water. They dived and swam beneath the surface and from a bowlder plunged into it with terrific splashes, sometimes forward, sometimes backward.

One of the happiest incidents which I have seen in the grizzly bear world was a mother grizzly who had discovered some honey in a standing dead tree, perhaps five or six feet above the ground. Tearing open the edges of the hole, she helped herself to a quant.i.ty of the honey, then called her two cubs, who were playing a short distance away. They needed no second invitation when they saw mother standing on hind legs and leaning forward with fore paws against the trunk of the tree. Up the incline of her back they raced merrily, and, standing upon mother's head, they ate with eagerness this wonderful feast of honey.

The cubs den up with their mother the winter following their birth. The mother is their companion until they are a year and a half old, sometimes longer. During their second summer she commonly leaves the cub--or cubs, as the case may be--to make their way in the world alone.

Once the family ties are broken, the grizzly is seldom seen with other bears.

If two, three, or four in number, the yearlings run together another year, and are chummy and inseparable. One becomes the leader and is followed faithfully. If trouble arises, they are united and devoted little people. To kill or injure one of the youngsters means that a hunter is promptly charged by the others, and often killed or injured.

The cubs are great ramblers. They may wander through unoccupied regions and over the territory of other bears. They are not considered intruders by other bears. There are numerous interesting incidents in the companionship of these year-olds, and sometimes of two-year-olds, who have explored miles of territory, chased animals, played, and enjoyed themselves together, and in moments of danger united and fought the enemy. Yearling bears den up together the second winter and occasionally also the third winter. Generally, however, after the second winter, that is to say, when two and a half years old, they separate. From this time on the grizzly lives alone.

Where does he make his first home? Sometimes the young grizzly crowds into the territory adjoining his birthplace, but at other times he must wander far away to find territory not already occupied. In the past, when grizzlies were numerous, the increased population each year must have compelled readjustments and forced a reduction of the area claimed by each individual. But in these times, except perhaps in two or three National Parks, there are thousands of square miles here and there over the West without a grizzly on them. But the grizzly is fond of his home territory, and in it, except for occasional visits into the outside world, he spends his life.

His Exclusive Territory

A mother grizzly and her year-and-a-half-old cub came shuffling along the sh.o.r.e of a little lake in the No-Summer Mountains. Where a brook flowed into the lake she stopped, looked at the cub, and possibly grunted something to him. She may have said, "Here, Johnny, is a territory not claimed by other bears; this is to be your domain." I watched him as she went ambling away alone. He stood looking at the ground for several seconds, then turned to see his mother in the distance, and finally surveyed his surroundings. Pushed off into the world to shift for himself, the cub walked up the mountain-side and disappeared in the woods.

I had seen this cub and his mother on the other side of the Medicine Bow Mountains, at least fifty miles away. When I saw her leaving the cub to make his way alone, I wanted to ask, "Is it common for a mother grizzly to take her children to the territory that is to be their home?" The selection of this domain may sometimes be made by the mother but most often, probably, it is made by the cubs.

But, selection of the home territory aside, the grizzly leads a solitary life; he lives apart from other bears, has his thought, his work, his recreation, and his play by himself. Alone he hunts for food, alone he wanders for adventure. Singly he fights his foes, and in solitude he dens up in winter. A possible explanation of this may lie in the fact that being alone is an advantage to an animal of his size and enormous food-requirements. Then, too, since the advent of the white man with the long-range rifle, it is an advantage to act singly. The grizzly's solitary habit may be one which is an advantage in the perpetuation of the species. Only twice have I known of father, mother, and cubs being seen together, and I have never heard of their denning together.

A grizzly has his own home territory. He claims the exclusive use of certain lands. In only one instance have I known two companion grizzlies to occupy the same region permanently. These two were often seen eating, traveling, and resting near each other. Though the grizzly wanders off the home territory for an occasional visit, in it through the seasons and through the years he makes his living; he defends it against invaders, and in it he commonly dies.

Most wild creatures have their home territories, areas which they claim the right to use to the exclusion of others of the same species. The bear is likely to hold more territory than any other kind of life; and he will dominate in the territory all kinds of life that may temporarily conflict with his use of it. Most birds and beasts use their large or tiny bit of earth in pairs, flocks, herds, or colonies. The grizzly uses his alone. His domain may be in part the claimed territory of other species; lions, beavers, wolves, eagles, and other life may use it.

The grizzly bear is the aristocrat of the wilds. He is lordly and reserved. He will meet a bighorn sheep or other wild animal, and, though aware of its presence, pay no apparent attention to it. If near another bear, either a black or a grizzly, while appearing to be disinterested, or pretending not to have seen him, he is in fact watching the other's movements. A black bear avoids him. Sometimes two grizzlies who have been feeding near each other deliberately meet, or come face to face.

Each, with admirable acting, feigns intense surprise that the other is there. They bristle up, exchange a few unfriendly roars and growls, make a threatening move or two, and then go on. Sometimes they pa.s.s as though unconscious of each other's presence.

A network of trails extends over the grizzly's mountain home. These reach food-supply centres, lookout and resting stations, swimming-holes, and other places often visited. Generally when going anywhere the grizzly follows a trail; if pursued, he is most certain to do so. Many of these trails are dim, but others are deeply worn. He may sometimes make a new trail, but in general he follows the old ones which have been used by generations of bears. His domain may be crossed by other wild-life trails, which he may or may not use.

Topography, mountain barriers, streams, or other natural boundary-lines in part determine the form of the grizzly's home territory. The size is determined by the food-supply, by the bear population of the region, and by individual prowess. A bear of exceptional prowess may hold an empire.

The territory dominated by old "Timberline" had an area of about eighty square miles. The western boundary-line followed the rim of the Continental Divide for nearly fifteen miles. Meeker Ridge and Cony Creek were other boundary-lines, while at the north stood Chief's Head Mountain and Long's Peak. Toward the south the territory narrowed and was not more than two miles across; in the centre it must have been nearly ten miles wide. An extensive area lay above the timber-line.

There were forests primeval, a number of canons and streams, numerous small lakes and beaver ponds. In this varied and extensive region old "Timberline" had all the necessities of life and many of the luxuries of beardom.

The claw-marks and the tooth-marks which grizzlies and some other animals place on trees are often interpreted as being "No Trespa.s.s"

signs, indications of boundary-lines, survey marks, or the seal of ownership of the landlord. If these marks are extremely high, they are supposed to inspire respect for the one occupying the region, or to cause terror to the invader, unless he be large enough to reach higher.

But I question any such significance attached to these marks. Ofttimes the bear leaves these marks in the centre of his home range, sometimes within the home territory of a lion or a big-horn. While the idea of its being a mark of ownership is a most artistic and entertaining one, it does not appear to have any natural-history value.

I have seen bears, reaching high, tear out pieces of bark, and have also seen both bears and lions put claw-marks upon trees. Generally this clawing and biting was done during languid and leisurely moments when there was nothing definite to do. One day I watched a grizzly stand on hind feet upon a five-foot snowdrift where he had been lying. Placing his front paws against a spruce as high as he could reach, he clawed the bark indifferently. It was more of a muscle-stretching performance than anything else. He took a tiny bite out of the tree and walked off with the strip of bark in his mouth. Then he gave it a playful shake and dropped it.

It is well known that wolves, beavers, and some other animals have information places. These may or may not be intentionally established.

Some of these places are where wild-life trails cross, or are near water-holes, salt-licks, play places, or some neutral feeding-ground.

They may be frequented exclusively by one species or by several. Even the casual visits and bark-biting of bears incidentally contribute something of interest to the next visitors. In these places an animal may learn of the recent visit of one of his species or of a dreaded enemy, or may even find information as to the s.e.x of the visitors. They are thus akin to country cross-roads where gossip is exchanged concerning human affairs.

A grizzly that I was trailing turned abruptly aside to visit a news station of this kind. Plainly it was a loafing or frequented spot for wild life; from the nature of the topography and from numerous tracks seen during later visits I learned that it was a stamping-ground and a trail-crossing. Foxes, coyotes, skunks, rats, deer, and mountain sheep had been visitors. The manner in which the bear turned aside to visit the place suggested that he had been there before; but he may just have caught interesting, newsy scent which attracted him there for the first time. His actions were those of one who is hunting for news.

At night the bear may lie down in almost any place, but during the daytime he selects one of the safest places in his realm. If in the high mountains this may be on a ridge above the timber-line, or on a treeless hilltop from which he commands a wide outlook, or in the end of a canon, or in a thicket. Wherever the place, it is one where the bear cannot be easily surprised, and where his scouts--his scent, his sight, and his ears--would easily warn him of the approach of any possible danger.

When pursued, the grizzly tries to keep within his domain. Usually he travels only seven or eight miles in one direction, then doubles back, circles, and zigzags. Only two or three times when trailing the bear have I known him to travel more than fourteen or fifteen miles in one direction. In one long trailing experience I observed that the bear, with many twists and zigzags, covered his domain practically twice over.

I trailed the same grizzly two Septembers, three years apart. I started him the second time near the place where I had started him before, and he followed for three days over almost exactly the same route taken the first time.

Three prospectors and I were rowing across a lake in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho. When about half a mile from the farther sh.o.r.e, we spied a grizzly swimming across. We pursued, and when we got near, one of the men proposed to rope him, saying that the bear could now tow us ash.o.r.e. The other two protested so vigorously that the rope was not thrown. Fortunate for us that it was not, for had it fallen over the neck of Mr. Grizzly, the chances are that he might have climbed into the boat. In Alaska I saw a grizzly out at sea, swimming vigorously along between two islands that were seven miles apart. The grizzly is fond of water, is an excellent and enduring swimmer, and in the water fights effectively.

While I was on a winter trip into the San Juan Mountains a prospector told me of an occurrence which he had just witnessed. A snow-slide crashing down into a gulch close to a grizzly den aroused the bear, who came out with a rush to see what was going on. He did not lose his head, but looked about until the air cleared of the swirling snow-dust. Then he walked round the wreckage brought down by the slide and finally climbed it and explored the opening it had smashed through the woods.

After being out more than an hour he re-entered the den.

Though living a solitary life in the seclusion of the wilderness, this bear was again routed out before spring. His den was only a few feet above the stream, on the mountain-side. The debris brought down by the snow-slide forty or fifty feet up the gulch dammed the stream and raised the water so that it leaked through the earth into the den. Again driven forth from his den, the bear--so his tracks in the snow showed--after one pause climbed to another den on the mountain-side about two miles distant.

The grizzly spends about one third of each year in hibernation. He may use the same den year after year, repairing and reshaping it; or perhaps he will dig a new one. Sometimes he goes outside his own territory for a den to his liking. He is sometimes driven forth during hibernation by landslides as well as by snow-slides and floods.

A grizzly is strongly attached to his home territory and spends most of his time in it. Occasionally, and in exceptional cases regularly, he wanders far away. A scarcity of food may cause him to leave home temporarily; or excessive food elsewhere may attract him.

Bears and lions are not neighborly, and at best each ignores the other; but one bear I knew followed a lion for weeks, and others have occasionally done likewise, profiting by the food-supply--the excessive killing of the lion. Here was unusual tolerance, almost friendly a.s.sociation, between antagonistic wild folk.

The abundance of food at any place in a bear's territory gives other grizzlies public rights. A berry-patch or a stream which has a supply equal to the needs of many bears, a beaver pond, or a lake, may become a public feeding-place. A flood, a storm, a snow-slide, or other agency may take the lives of a number of animals--cause a congestion of food in any territory.

That there sometimes is fighting in these public places, and that one bear sometimes tries to hog a larger food-supply than he can use does not change the custom of the species. Incidentally, this violation of general or public rights but reminds us how human-like are bears in their habits, good and bad.

Lewis and Clark found a number of grizzlies congregated at places along the Missouri River. Apparently these had got together like those in Yellowstone Park, because of congested food-supply. It appears that at regular crossings along the river numbers of buffalo were annually drowned, and carca.s.ses regularly strewn at about the same places.

There are a number of regions in Alaska where a bear lives in his own chosen locality but regularly goes to a public feeding-ground. Much of the food is along the seash.o.r.e and on the lower courses of streams.

There is also a food-belt above the timber-line, where mice abound and where there is gra.s.s upon which bears feed. The seasonal nature of part of the food may thus encourage or compel bears of one locality to travel a long distance to secure the only food obtainable.

If there be straggling grizzlies who wander about like gypsies, they are the rare exception: the nearest to them were the few "buffalo grizzlies," those that in old days followed the migrating buffalo herds.

Though the problem of getting a living makes up most of the grizzly's daily programme, he knows the wisdom of taking time off and having a change from the routine of life. The ability to concentrate in eager play is probably one of the best evidences of the grizzly's unusual brain-power. It is good to know that, although most of the time he lives alone and takes things seriously, he also has the power to relax and to build and restore himself in play. This may help to give contentment to solitary life in home territory.

When well fed, the grizzly sometimes strolls over his estate and pauses to watch the antics of other wild life. He will stand in a stream to see the ways of water-ouzels. The sliding of otter at play appears to interest him, and I have discovered otter-slides by following his tracks to them. Once, when I was enjoying the play of a number of beaver racing and splashing in a pond, a grizzly watched them for a time from the edge of the woods, then came out on the dam and sat down where he could better see them. Though a solitary and self-contained baron, he has many entertaining interests.

There are times at home, or abroad, when the grizzly is not deeply interested in anything, when time hangs a little heavy on his hands, or on his mind. Sometimes at home he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. He isn't hungry, he can't think of any place where he cares to go, he isn't interested in swimming, he doesn't even want to play. He doesn't care to lie down and sleep. He starts off languidly, stops, moves on, rears up, takes a bite out of the bark of a tree; but he doesn't care for the bark to eat and doesn't even look up to see how high he has bitten.

The grizzly is a descendant of a long line of wanderers and may occasionally explore surrounding territory for sheer adventure. If much hara.s.sed by settlers, he will move to a permanent home in lands far distant. It would be comparatively easy for a grizzly to become acquainted with four or five thousand miles of territory. He travels rapidly, has endurance, and in a single night could cover a hundred miles or more.

Some bears get the idea of territorial expansion and go forth to seize a part of a neighbor's hunting-ground. Thus one bear may be annoyed by another who makes too frequent raids into his domain, and feel called upon to defend his territory against the invader. When past prime a bear is sometimes driven forth into an unfriendly world by a young, vigorous conqueror.

On one occasion I tracked a grizzly for sixty miles from the margin of its home range. It traveled along a line that indicated it had a definite place in mind to which it was going. It explored a canon region, and, a day or two later, as tracks in the snow showed, went back to its old range along the trail it had followed in leaving it.