Part 5

An old hunter, named Ruhe, having set his traps to catch beavers, returned to the stream to ascertain his success; he missed one of them, and, on looking for it, saw signs of a bear having passed that way. As he went on, he heard the noise of a heavy body breaking through the bushes in the thicket. He hid himself behind a rock, and saw a huge bear, limping on three legs to a flat piece of rock, upon which it seated itself, and on raising one of its fore paws Ruhe discovered that it was encircled by the lost trap. The bear lifted the iron glove towards his face, examined it, turned his paw round and round, bent his head from side to side, looked at the trap askance with the most puzzled air, felt the encumbrance, tapped it on the rock, and evidently knew not what to do. Then he began to feel pain and licked it; but Ruhe soon put an end to all his conjectures, by shooting him dead.

Of all bears, the grizzly is said to be the most formidable, both for size and ferocity, and Mr. Ruxton tells the following anecdote, in which one of them makes a conspicuous figure:—"A trapper, named Glass, and a companion, were setting their beaver traps in a stream to the north of the river Platte, when they saw a large, grizzly bear turning up the turf near by, and searching for roots and pig-nuts. The two men crept to the thicket, and fired at him; they wounded, but did not kill him; the beast groaned, jumped all four legs from the ground, and, snorting with pain and fury, charged towards the place from whence came the smoke of the rifles. The men rushed through the thicket, where the underwood almost impeded their progress; but the beast's weight and strength carried him along so fast, that he soon came up with them. A steep bluff was situated a hundred yards off, with a level plain of grass between it and the thicket; the hunters flew across the latter with the utmost speed, the bear after them. When he reached about halfway, Glass stumbled over a stone and fell. He rose, and the bear stood before him on his hind legs. Glass called to his companion to fire, and he himself sent the contents of his pistol into the bear's body. The furious animal, with the blood streaming from his nose and mouth, knocked the pistol away with one paw, while he stuck the claws of the other into the flesh of his antagonist, and rolled with him on the ground. Glass managed to reach his knife, and plunged it several times into the bear, while the latter, with tooth and claw, tore his flesh. At last, blinded with blood and exhaustion, the knife fell from the trapper's hand, and he became insensible. His companion, who thought his turn would come next, did not even think of reloading his rifle, and fled to the camp, where others of his party were resting, to tell the miserable fate of their companion. Assistance was sent, and Glass still breathed, but the bear lay across him quite dead, from three bullets and twenty knife wounds; the man's flesh was torn away in slips, and lumps of it lay upon the ground; his scalp hung bleeding over his face, which was also torn. The men took away the trapper's hunting-shirt, moccasins, and arms, dragged the bear off his body, and left him, declaring, when they rejoined their party, that they had completed his burial."

Although the bear no longer figures in the story, I must be allowed to relate the sequel, as a proof of what human nature can endure without destruction. Months elapsed, and some of the party of the above mentioned camp were on their way to a trading port with their skins, when they saw a horseman approach them, with a face so scarred and disfigured that they could not distinguish his features.

The stranger accosted that one of the party who had been Glass's companion, exclaiming, in a hollow voice, "Hurrah, Bill, my boy, you thought I was gone under (killed) that time, did you? but hand me over my horse and gun, lad. I'm not dead yet." Astonishment and horror seized on the party, many of whom believed he had been buried as well as dead. However, there could be no mistake now, and when they had sufficiently recovered from their surprise to listen to Glass's story, he told them that he knew not how long he lay before he recovered his senses; but when he did, and was able to take nourishment, he was obliged to subsist on the flesh of the bear. When he had strength to crawl, he tore off as much of this as he could carry in his weak state, and crept down to the river; he had suffered tortures from cold, wounds, and hunger, but he had reached the fort, which was between eighty and ninety miles distant, living the greater part of the way on roots and berries, but there he had been taken care of and recovered.

The brown bear much resembles the black in size, habits and shape, and like it, lives in hollow places; he, however, sometimes digs pits for himself, and even constructs huts, which he lines with moss. Both attain an enormous size and weight. All bears are extremely fond of honey and sugar, and are often taken when venturing too close to man to procure these enticing substances. The settlers in Canada, when they make maple sugar, catch them by leaving a boiler full, into which they dip their paws, or their head, and they fall an easy prey when encumbered with the thick, saccharine matter, and sometimes with the boiler also. Bruin's attention is easily diverted, and many have escaped by throwing a bundle or knapsack down when he is in pursuit of them, for while he stoops to examine it, they gain time and distance. It is natural to him to play all sorts of antics; and we are told by an Indian traveller, that in one of his journeys, some bears kept in front of his palanquin, tumbling and playing as if they designed to afford him amusement. Climbing is a great delight to them, and one was seen to ascend a scaffolding, for his own pleasure; he at first proceeded cautiously, examining the strength of all the joists, and at last reached the summit, which was one hundred and twenty feet high. He looked much pleased when he had completed this operation, and the workmen treated him with great civility. They were going to lower him in a bucket, but to this he would not consent, and descended as he had mounted, being so pleased with his prowess, that he repeated his visit.

A Norwegian had tamed a bear so completely, that he used to stand at the back of his master's sledge, where he kept so good a balance, that it was impossible to upset him: if the sledge went on one side, the bear threw his weight in the opposite direction, and so kept up the equilibrium. One day, however, his master, in sport, drove over the worst ground he could find, hoping to throw the bear off. This, however, only served to irritate him; and he vented his ill humour by giving his master a tremendous blow across the shoulders.

A countryman, in Russia, when seeking honey, climbed a very high tree; the trunk of which was hollow, and finding there was a large quantity of comb in it, he descended, and stuck fast in the tenacious substance there deposited. He was so far distant from home, that his voice could not be heard, and he remained two days in this situation, relieving his hunger with the honey. He began to despair of ever being extricated, when a bear who, like himself, came for the sake of the honey, slid down the hollow, hind part foremost. The man, in spite of his alarm, seized hold of him, and the bear, also in a great fright, clambered out as fast as he could, dragging the man up with him, and when clear of his tail-bearer, made off as fast as possible.

The drollest and most accomplished of all bears, was the celebrated Martin, of Paris, whose dancing, climbing, curtsying, tumbling, begging, and many other antics, were the delight of every child in the metropolis, and of many grown-up children also. It is true, that the nursemaids endangered the lives of their charges, by holding them over the side of the pit in which he was kept; but as none did fall, they continued to amuse themselves and their nurslings at the same risk. One morning early, he very cleverly withdrew the bolts of his pit door, and sallied forth on his hind-legs to take a walk. The keepers of the garden had not risen; but the dogs were on the alert, and surrounded Martin, jumping and barking, half in play, and half in earnest. This roused the men, who, rushing out to see what was the matter, beheld the bear in the midst of the canine troop, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, and an expression of fun and enjoyment in his countenance, which was indescribable. Never was the malignant scowl, so often noticed in bears, from pulling the nictating membrane, or third eyelid half over the eye, seen in poor Martin's face; yet he became unpopular from the cupidity of one of the sentinels. This man fancied he saw a five-franc piece lying in the bear's pit, and determined to go during the night, when he would be on duty, and secure it. He accordingly provided himself with a ladder, and when the guard was changed, was found lying lifeless at the bottom, the coveted piece in his hand, which proved to be nothing but a large button. No marks of violence were to be seen upon his body, but the contusions on his head seemed to tell that he had fallen from the ladder when near the top, and so met his death. Whether he had been frightened, or seized with giddiness, or whether Martin had shaken the ladder, no one could say; the animal was sitting quietly by his side when his fate was first made known. The story fled like wildfire from one end of Paris to the other, and in a short time, the populace were fully convinced that Martin had killed him; and this, combined with other exaggerations, induced them to flock in multitudes to see the murderous bear. Afterwards, two balls of arsenic, wrapped up in some sweet substance, were found in the pit, fortunately before Martin had touched them; and the authorities of the establishment thought it prudent to remove him to a den in the menagerie. The front of these dens was closed at night with a sliding shutter, pulled down by inserting a hook at the end of a long pole into a ring, which ring, when the shutter was down, served to admit a bolt. This did not at all please Martin, and the keeper never could accomplish the fastening, till some one else went to the other side to take off the bear's attention; for the moment the shutter was down, Martin inserted his claws and pushed it up again, and this practice was continued as long as he existed.

The Malayan Sun bear (Ursus Malayensis) has a long tongue, short smooth fur, very extensible, flexible lips, and large claws. Sir Stamford Raffles had one which was brought up in the nursery with his children, and when he joined the party at table, would only eat the choicest fruit, and drink champagne, and even be out of humour when there was none of the latter. He was very affectionate, and never required to be chained or chastised. This bear, a cat, a dog, and a lory from New Holland, used to eat amicably out of the same dish. His favorite playfellow, however, was the dog, although he was teased and worried by it incessantly. He grew to be very powerful, and pulled plants and trees up by the roots, the latter of which were too large for him to embrace.

The Bornean bear (Ursus Euryspilus) is one of the most amusing and playful of all bears; begs in the most earnest manner, and when it has more to eat than it can hold in its paws and mouth, places the surplus on its hinder feet, as if to keep it from being soiled; and when vexed or irritated, will never be reconciled as long as the offender is in its sight. It does much injury to cocoa-nut trees, by biting off the top shoots, or tearing down the fruit.

Captain Phipps' Voyage to the North Pole.

L'Acadie.

Ruxton.

BADGERS.

Badgers belong to the same division of Carnivora as Bears, but differ from them, not only in size, but in dentition. This, while they claim a sort of miniature relationship, forms them into a separate genus. They afford many a day of what is called sport, to those who choose to hunt them, during which they evince much sagacity in their efforts to escape; but I am happy to say the custom of tying them into an empty cask, and baiting them with dogs, no longer exists. They are by nature slothful and heavy, but are easily tamed, and when roused are fierce. They have a gland under the tail, which secretes a liquid of most disagreeable odour, and causes them to pass into a sort of proverb. They feed chiefly on roots, nuts, and other fruits; attack the nests of wasps, or wild bees, and devour their larvae, themselves, or their honey, with a perfect indifference to their stings, which cannot pierce through their tough hide. They prey at night and live in the thickest parts of woods or coppices, where they rapidly dig deep holes, by means of their sharp and powerful claws. These holes are divided into several chambers, the innermost of which is round, and lined with hay or grass. All are kept very clean, and every waste remnant of food and species of filth is deposited in holes dug on purpose for its reception. The passages to the dwellings frequently turn at sharp angles, at which places the badgers make a stand when attacked. Mr. St. John caused a badger's hole to be dug out, and he there found balls of grass, rolled up to the size of a man's fist, evidently intended for food. That gentleman also says, that he has frequently found the bulb of the common blue hyacinth lying near the hole. They devour, besides all sorts of vegetables, small animals whether alive or dead, snails and worms; but their peculiar dainty consists of eggs. A partridge's nest affords them a delicious feast, particularly if they include the sitting hen.

Badgers have a peculiarly formed chest and jaw, which give them great strength; their forehead is so thick, in consequence of a ridge which runs down the middle of it, that they are unhurt by a blow in front which would kill an ox; while almost a touch at the back of the head will cause their destruction. Their thick skin, which lies loosely upon them, is much used for making pistol cases, and their fur is excellent for painter's brushes. They are difficult to kill, and few dogs have courage enough to attack them in their holes, where they live in pairs. When thus pursued, they constantly impede the progress of their enemies by throwing the soil behind them, so as to fill up the passages, while they escape to the surface. They are rare animals, but are to be found in various parts of the world. The Chinese eat them in spite of their bad odour. When tamed they show great affection, an interesting proof of which is given by Captain Brown in his popular Natural History, which I transcribe. "Two persons (in France) went on a journey, and passing through a hollow way, a dog which was with them, started a badger, which he attacked, and pursued till he took shelter in a burrow under a tree. With some pains he was hunted out and killed. Being a few miles from a village, called Chapelletiere, they agreed to drag him thither, as the commune gave a reward for every one which was destroyed; besides which they proposed selling the skin. Not having a rope, they twisted some twigs, and by turns drew him along the road. They had not proceeded far when they heard the cry of an animal in seeming distress, and stopped to listen, when another badger approached them slowly. They at first threw stones at it; notwithstanding which, it drew near, came up to the dead animal, began to lick it, and continued its mournful cry. The men, surprised at this, desisted from offering any further injury to it, and again drew the dead one along as before; when the living badger, determined not to quit its companion, lay down on it, taking it gently by one ear, and in that manner was drawn into the midst of the village; nor could dogs, boys, or men induce it to quit its situation, and to their shame be it said, they had the inhumanity to kill the poor animal, and afterwards to burn it, declaring it could not be no other than a witch."

Professor Bell had a badger which followed him like a dog, and which had been tamed when quite young by some cottager's children, with whom he played like a puppy. As he grew in years, he became too rough for them, but at Mr. Bell's was a universal favourite. He yelped with a peculiar, sharp cry when excluded from his master's presence. He was fed at dinner-time, and took the morsels in the most orderly manner. He was very affectionate, good-tempered, and cleanly. He died of a disease which affects many carnivorous animals in confinement—a contraction of the lower opening of the stomach, which prevents the food from passing.

In that most interesting book, written by Mr. St. John, and called "Wild Sports of the Highlands," the author treats at some length of the badger. I select the following passages from his pages:—

"I was just then startled from my reverie by a kind of grunt close to me, and the apparition of a small, waddling, grey animal, who was busily employed in hunting about the grass and stones at the edge of the loch; presently another and another appeared in a little grassy glade which ran down to the water's edge, till at last I saw seven of them busily at work within a few yards of me, all coming from one direction. It at first struck me that they were some farmer's pigs taking a distant ramble; but I shortly saw they were badgers, come from their fastnesses rather earlier than usual, tempted by the quiet evening, and by a heavy summer shower that was just over, and which had brought out an infinity of large black snails and worms, on which the badgers were feeding with good appetite. As I was dressed in grey, and sitting on a grey rock, they did not see me, but waddled about, sometimes close to me, only now and then, as they crossed my track, they showed a slight uneasiness, smelling the ground, and grunting gently. Presently a very large one, which I took to be the mother of the rest, stood motionless for a moment, listening with great attention, and then giving a loud grunt, which seemed perfectly understood by the others; she scuttled away, followed by the whole lot. I was soon joined by my attendant, whose approach they had heard long before my less acute ears gave me warning of his coming.... When caught in traps, they [badgers] never leave part of their foot behind them and so escape, as foxes and other vermin frequently do; but they display very great strength and dexterity in drawing up the peg of the trap, and this done, they will carry off the heaviest trap to an amazing distance, over rock or heather. They never attempt to enter their hole with a trap dangling to their foot, but generally lay up in some furze bush or thicket.

"When first caught, their efforts to escape show a degree of strength and ingenuity which is quite wonderful, digging and tearing at their prison with the strength of a rhinoceros. I one day found a badger, not much hurt, in a trap. Tying a rope to his hind leg, I drove him home before me, as a man drives a pig, but with much less trouble, for he made no attempts to escape, but trotted quietly ahead, only occasionally showing a natural inclination to bolt off the main path, whenever he passed any diverging road, all of which were probably familiar haunts of the unlucky beast. When at home, I put him into a paved court, where I thought he could not possibly escape. The next morning, however, he was gone, having displaced a stone that I thought him quite incapable of moving, and then digging under a wall.... Sometimes I have known a badger leave the solitude of the woods and take to some drain in the cultivated country, where he becomes very bold and destructive to the crops, cutting down wheat, and ravaging the gardens in a most surprising manner. One which I know to be now living in this manner, derives great part of his food during the spring from a rookery, under which he nightly hunts, feeding on the young rooks that fall from their nests, or on the old ones that are shot. This badger eludes every attempt to trap him. Having more than once run narrow risks of this nature, he has become so cunning, that no one can catch him. If a dozen baited traps are set, he manages to carry off the baits, and spring every trap, always with total impunity to himself. At one time he was watched out to some distance from his drain, and traps were then put in all directions round it, but, by jumping over some and rolling over others, he escaped all. In fact, though a despised and maltreated animal, when he has once acquired a certain experience in worldly matters, few beasts show more address and cunning in keeping out of scrapes. Though eaten in France, Germany, and other countries, and pronounced to make excellent hams, we in Britain despise him as food, though I see no reason why he should not be quite as good as any pork.