American Big Game in Its Haunts - Various
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25
For many years these bears have been so persistently hunted by the
natives, who are constantly patrolling the shores in their skin canoes,
that their knowledge of man and their senses of smell and hearing are
developed to an extreme degree. They have, however, like most bears,
but indifferent sight. They range in color from a light tawny lion to a
very dark brown; in fact, I have seen some bears that were almost
black. Many people have asked me about their size, and how they compare
in this respect with other bears. The Kadiak bear is naturally extremely
large. His head is very massive, and he stands high at the shoulders.
This latter characteristic is emphasized by a thick tuft of hair which
stands erect on the dorsal ridge just over the shoulders. The largest
bear of this kind which I shot measured 8 feet in a straight line from
his nose to the end of the vertebrae, and stood 51-1/2 inches in a
straight line at the shoulders, not including between 6 and 7 inches of
hair.
Most people have an exaggerated idea of the number of bears on the
Kadiak Islands. Personally I believe that they are too few ever to make
shooting them popular. In fact, it was only by the hardest kind of
careful and constant work that I was finally successful in bagging my
first bear on Kadiak. When the salmon come it is not so difficult to get
a shot, but this lying in wait at night by a salmon stream cannot
compare with seeking out the game on the hills in the spring, and
stalking it in a sportsmanlike manner.
It was more than a week after our landing at Kadiak before the weather
permitted me to go to Afognak, where my old hunters lived, to make our
final preparations. One winter storm after another came in quick
succession, but we did not mind the delay, for we had come early and did
not expect the bears would leave their dens before April.
I decided to take with me on my hunt the same two natives whom I had had
the year before. My head man's name was Fedor Deerinhoff. He was about
forty years of age, and had been a noted sea otter and bear hunter. In
size he was rather larger than the average of his race, and absolutely
fearless. Many stories are told of his hand-to-hand encounters with
these big bears. I think the best one is of a time when he crawled into
a den on his hands and knees, and in the dark, and at close quarters,
shot three. He was unable to see, and the bears' heavy breathing was his
only guide in taking aim.
Nikolai Pycoon, my other native, was younger and shorter in stature, and
had also a great reputation as a hunter, which later I found was fully
justified, and furthermore was considered the best baidarka man of
Afognak. He was a nice little fellow, always good natured, always keen,
always willing, and the only native whom I have ever met with a true
sense of gratitude.
The year before I had made all arrangements to hire for this season a
small schooner, which was to take us to our various shooting grounds. I
was now much disappointed to find that the owner of this schooner had
decided not to charter her. We were, therefore, obliged to engage a very
indifferent sloop, but she was fortunately an excellent sea boat. Her
owner, Charles Payjaman, a Russian, went with us as my friend's
hunter. He was a fisherman and a trapper by profession, and had the
reputation of knowing these dangerous island waters well. His knowledge
of Russian we expected to be of great use to us in dealing with the
natives; Alaska was under Russian control for so many years that that
language is the natural local tongue.
It was the first of April before we got our entire outfit together, and
it was not until four days later that the weather permitted us to hoist
our sail and start for the shooting grounds, of which it was of the
utmost importance that we should make good choice. All the natives
seemed to agree that Kiliuda Bay, some seventy-five miles below the town
of Kadiak, was the most likely place to find bear, and so we now headed
our boat in that direction. It was a most beautiful day for a start,
with the first faint traces of spring in the air. As we skirted the
shore that afternoon I sighted, through the glasses, on some low hills
in the distance, bear tracks in the snow. My Aleuts seemed to think that
the bears were probably near, having come down to the shore in search of
kelp. It promised a pretty fair chance for a shot, but there was
exceedingly bad water about, and no harbor for the sloop to lie, so
Payjaman and my natives advised me not to make the attempt. As one
should take no chances with Alaskan waters, I felt that this was wise,
and we reluctantly passed on.
The next forenoon we put into a large bay, Eagle Harbor, to pick up a
local hunter who was to accompany us to Kiliuda Bay, for both my Aleuts
and the Russian were unacquainted with this locality. Ignati
Chowischpack, the native whose services we secured, was quite a
character, a man of much importance among the Aleuts of this district,
and one who had a thorough knowledge of the country chosen as a hunting
ground.
We expected to remain at Eagle Harbor only part of the day, but
unfortunately were storm-bound here for a week. Several times we
attempted to leave, but each time had to put back, fearing that the
heavy seas we encountered outside would crush in the baidarka, which was
carried lashed to the sloop's deck. It was not until early on the
morning of April 12, just as the sun was topping the mountains, that we
finally reached Kiliuda Bay.
Our hunting grounds now stretched before us as far as the eye could
see. We had by this time passed the tree area, and it was only here and
there in isolated spots that stunted cottonwoods bordered the salmon
streams and scattered patches of alders dotted the mountain sides. In
many places the land rolled gradually back from the shore until the
mountain bases were reached, while in other parts giant cliffs rose
directly from the water's edge, but with the glasses one could generally
command a grand view of this great irregular bay, with its long arms
cutting into the island in all directions.
We made our permanent camp in a large barabara, a form of house so often
seen in western Alaska that it deserves a brief description. It is a
small, dome-shaped hut, with a frame generally made of driftwood, and
thatched with sods and the rank grass of the country. It has no windows,
but a large hole in the roof permits light to enter and serves also as
an outlet for the smoke from the fire, which is built on a rough hearth
in the middle of the barabara. These huts, their doors never locked,
offer shelter to anyone, and are frequently found in the most remote
places. The one which we now occupied was quite large, with ample space
to stow away our various belongings, and we made ourselves most
comfortable, while our Aleuts occupied the small banya, or Russian
bathhouse, which is also generally found by the side of the
barabara. This was to be the base of supplies from which my friend and I
were to hunt in different directions.
The morning after reaching our shooting grounds I started with one of my
natives and the local hunter in the baidarka to get the lay of the
land. Blake and I agreed that it was wise to divide up the country, both
because we could thus cover a much greater territory, and our modes of
hunting differed materially. Although at the time I believed from what I
had heard that Payjaman was an excellent man, I preferred to hunt in a
more careful manner, as is the native custom, in which I had had some
experience the year before. I firmly believe that had Payjaman hunted
as carefully as my Aleuts did, my friend would have been more
successful.
We spent our first day skirting the shores of the entire bay, paddling
up to its very head. Ignati pointed out to Fedor all the most likely
places, and explained the local eccentricities of the various winds--a
knowledge of these being of the first importance in bear hunting. I was
much pleased with the looks of the country, but at the same time was
disappointed to find that in the inner bays there was no trace of
spring, and that the snow lay deep even on the shores down to the high
water mark. Not a bear's track was to be seen, and it was evident that
we were on the grounds ahead of time.
We stopped for tea and lunch about noon at the head of the bay. Near by
a long and narrow arm of water extended inland some three miles, and it
was the country lying adjacent to this and to the head of the bay that I
decided to choose as my hunting grounds.
We had a hard time to reach camp that night, for a severe storm suddenly
burst upon us, and a fierce wind soon swept down from the hills, kicking
up a heavy sea which continually swept over the baidarka's deck, and
without kamlaykas on we surely should have swamped. It grew bitterly
cold, and a blinding snow storm made it impossible to see any distance
ahead, but Ignati knew these waters well, and safely, but half frozen,
we reached the main camp just at dark.
Next day the storm continued, and it was impossible to venture out. My
friend and I passed the time playing piquet, and listening to our
natives, who talked earnestly together, going over many of their strange
and thrilling hunting experiences. We understood but little Russian and
Aleut, yet their expressive gestures made it quite possible to catch the
drift of what was being said. It seemed that Ignati had had a brother
killed a few years ago, while bear hunting in the small bay which lies
between Eagle Harbor and Kiliuda Bay. The man came upon a bear, which
he shot and badly wounded. Accompanied by a friend he followed up the
blood trail, which led into a thick patch of alders. Suddenly he came
upon a large unwounded male bear which charged him unprovoked, and at
such close quarters that he was unable to defend himself. Before his
companion, who was but a short distance away, could reach him, he was
killed. The bear frightfully mangled the body, holding it down with his
feet and using his teeth to tear it apart.
Ignati at once started out to avenge his brother, and killed in quick
succession six bears, allowing their bodies to remain as a warning to
the other bears, not even removing their skins.
During the past few years three men while hunting have been killed by
bears in the same vicinity as Ignati's brother, two instantly, and one
living but a short time. I think it is from these accidents that the
natives in this region have a superstitious dread of a "long-tailed
bear" which they declare roams the hills between Eagle Harbor and
Kiliuda Bay.
The storm which began on the 13th continued until the 17th, and this was
but one of a series. Winter seemed to come back in all its fury, and I
believe that whatever bears had left their winter dens went back to them
for another sleep. It was not until the middle of May that the snow
began to disappear, and spring with its green grass came.
All this time I was camped with my natives at the head of the bay, some
fifteen miles from our base of supplies. On the 23d of April we first
sighted tracks, but it was not until May 15 that I finally succeeded in
bagging my first bear.
The tracks in the snow indicated that the bears began again to come out
of their winter dens the last week in April; and should one wish to make
a spring hunt on the Kadiak Islands, the first of May would, I should
judge, be a good time to arrive at the shooting grounds.
When the wind was favorable, our mode of hunting was to leave camp
before daylight, and paddle in our baidarka up to the head of one of
these long bays, and, leaving our canoe here, trudge over the snow to
some commanding elevation, where we constantly used the glasses upon the
surrounding hillsides, hoping to see bear. We generally returned to camp
a little before noon, but in the afternoon returned to the lookout,
where we remained until it was too dark to see.
When the wind was blowing into these valleys we did not hunt, for we
feared that whatever bears might be around would get our scent and
quickly leave. New bears might come, but none which had once scented us
would remain. For days at a time we were storm-bound, and unable to
hunt, or even leave our little tent, where frequently we were obliged to
remain under blankets both day and night to keep warm.
On May 15, by 4 o'clock, I had finished a hurried breakfast, and with my
two Aleuts had left in the baidarka for our daily watching place. This
was a large mound lying in the center of a valley, some three miles from
where we were camped. On the right of the mound rose a gently sloping
hill with its sides sparsely covered with alders, and at right angles
and before it, extended a rugged mountain ridge with rocky sides
stretching all across our front, while to the left rose another towering
mountain ridge with steep and broken sides. All the surrounding hills
and much of the low country were covered with deep snow. The mountains
on three sides completely hemmed in the valley, and their snowy slopes
gave us an excellent chance to distinguish all tracks. Such were the
grounds which I had been watching for over a month whenever the wind was
favorable.
The sun was just topping the long hill to our right as we reached our
elevated watching place. The glasses were at once in use, and soon an
exclamation from one of my natives told me that new tracks were
seen. There they were--two long unbroken lines leading down from the
mountain on our right, across the valley, and up and out of sight over
the ridge to our left. It seemed as if two bears had simply wandered
across our front, and crossed over the range of mountains into the bay
beyond.
As soon as my hunters saw these tracks they turned to me, and, with
every confidence, said: "I guess catch." Now, it must be remembered that
these tracks led completely over the mountains to our left, and it was
the most beautiful bit of hunting on the part of my natives to know that
these bears would turn and swing back into the valley ahead. To follow
the tracks, which were well up in the heart of our shooting grounds,
would give our wind to all the bears that might be lurking there, and
this my hunters knew perfectly well, yet they never hesitated for one
moment, but started ahead with every confidence.
We threaded our way through a mass of thick alders to the head of the
valley, and then climbing a steep mountain took our stand on a rocky
ridge which commanded a wide view ahead and to our left in the direction
in which the tracks led. We had only been in our new position half an
hour when Nikolai, my head hunter, gripped my arm and pointed high up on
the mountain in the direction in which we had been watching. There I
made out a small black speck, which to the naked eye appeared but a bit
of dark rock protruding through the snow. Taking the glasses I made out
a large bear slowly floundering ahead, and evidently coming
downward. His coat seemed very dark against the white background, and he
was unquestionably a bull of great size. Shortly after I had the
satisfaction of seeing a second bear, which the first was evidently
following. This was, without doubt, a female, by no means so large as
the first, and much lighter in color. The smaller bear was apparently
hungry, and it was interesting to watch her dig through the snow in
search of food. Soon she headed down the mountain side, paying
absolutely no attention to the big male, which slowly followed some
distance in the rear. Shortly she reached a rocky cliff which it seemed
impossible that such a clumsy animal could descend, and I almost
despaired of her making the attempt, but without a pause she wound in
and out, seemingly traversing the steepest and most difficult places in
the easiest manner, and headed for the valley below. When the bull
reached this cliff we lost sight of him; nor could we locate him again
with even the most careful use of the glasses. He had evidently chosen
this secure retreat to lie up in for the rest of the day. If I could
have killed the female without alarming him, and then waited on her
trail, I should undoubtedly have got another shot, as he followed her
after his rest.
It was 8 o'clock when we first located the bears, and for nearly three
hours I had a chance to watch one or both of them through powerful
glasses. The sun had come up clear and strong, melting the crust upon
the snow, so that as soon as the female bear reached the steep mountain
side her downward path was not an easy one. At each step she would sink
up to her belly, and at times would slip and fall, turning somersault
after somersault; now and again she would be buried in the snow so deep
that it seemed impossible for her to go either ahead or backward. Then
she would roll over on her back, and, loosening her hold on the steep
hillside, would come tumbling and slipping down, turning over and over,
sideways and endways, until she caught herself by spreading out all four
legs. In this way she came with each step and turn nearer and
nearer. Finally she reached an open patch on the hillside, where she
began to feed, digging up the roots of the salmon-berry bushes at the
edge of the snow. If now I lost sight of her for a short time, it was
very difficult to pick her up again even with the glasses, so perfectly
did the light tawny yellows and browns of her coat blend in with the
dead grass of the place on which she was feeding.
The wind had been blowing in our favor all the morning, and for once
continued true and steady. But how closely we watched the clouds, to
see that no change in its direction threatened us.
We waited until the bear had left the snow and was quietly feeding
before we made a move, and then we slowly worked ahead and downward,
taking up a new position on a small ridge which was well to leeward, but
still on the opposite side of the valley from the bear. She seemed in an
excellent position for a stalk, and had I been alone I should have tried
it. But the Aleut mode of hunting is to study the direction in which
your game is working, and then take up a position which it will
naturally approach.
Taking our stand, we waited, watching with much interest the great
ungainly creature as she kept nibbling the young grass and digging up
roots. At times she would seem to be heading in our direction, and then
again would turn and slowly feed away. Suddenly something seemed to
alarm her, for she made a dash of some fifty yards down the valley, and
then, seeming to recover her composure, began to feed again, all the
while working nearer and nearer. The bear was now well down in the
bottom of the valley, which was at this point covered with alders and
intersected by a small stream. There were open patches in the
underbrush, and it was my intention to shoot when she passed through one
of these, for the ground was covered with over a foot of snow, which
would offer a very tempting background.
While all this was passing quickly through my mind, she suddenly made
another bolt down the valley, and, when directly opposite our position,
turned at right angles, crossed the brook, and came straight through the
alders into the open, not eighty yards away from us. As she made her
appearance I could not help being greatly impressed by the massive head
and high shoulders on which stood the pronounced tuft of hair. I had
most carefully seen to my sights long before, for I knew how much would
probably depend on my first shot. It surely seemed as if fortune was
with me that day, as at last I had a fair chance at the game I had come
so far to seek. Aiming with the greatest care for the lungs and heart, I
slowly pressed the trigger. The bear gave a deep, angry growl, and bit
for the wound,[4] which told me my bullet was well placed; but she kept
her feet and made a dash for the thicket. I was well above, and so
commanded a fairly clear view as she crashed through the leafless
alders. Twice more I fired, and each time with the most careful aim. At
the last shot she dropped with an angry moan. My hunters shook my hand,
and their faces told me how glad they were at my final success after so
many long weeks of persistent work. Including the time spent last year
and this year, this bear represented eighty-seven days of actual
hunting.
[Footnote 4: When a bullet strikes a Kadiak bear, he will always bite
for the wound and utter a deep and angry growl; whereas of the eleven
bears which my friend and I shot on the Alaska peninsula, although they,
too, bit for the wound, not one uttered a sound.]
I at once started down to look at the bear, when out upon the mountain
opposite the bull was seen. He had heard the shots and was now once
more but a moving black speck on the snow, but it will always be a
mystery to me how he could have heard the three reports of my small-bore
rifle so far away and against a strong wind. My natives suggested that
the shots must have echoed, and in this I think they were right; but
even then it shows how abnormally the sense of hearing has been
developed in these bears.
I was sorry to find that the small-bore rifle did not give as great a
shock as I had expected, for my first two bullets had gone through the
bear's lungs and heart without knocking her off her feet.
The bear was a female, as we had supposed, but judging from what my
natives said, only of medium size. She measured 6 feet 4 inches in a
straight line between the nose and the end of the vertebrae, and 44-5/8
inches at the shoulders. The fur was in prime condition, and of an
average length of 4-1/2 inches, but over the shoulders the mane was two
inches longer. Unfortunately, as in many of the spring skins, there was
a large patch over the rump apparently much rubbed. The general belief
is that these worn patches are made by the bears sliding down hill on
their haunches on the snow; but my natives have a theory that this is
caused by the bears' pelt freezing to their dens and being torn off when
they wake from their winter's sleep.
Although this female was not large for a Kadiak bear, as was proved by
one I shot later in the season, I was much pleased with my final
success, and our camp that night was quite a merry one.
Shortly after killing this bear, Blake and I returned to the trading
post at Wood Island to prepare for a new hunt, this time to the Alaska
Peninsula.
II.
BEAR HUNTING ON THE ALASKA PENINSULA
The year before I had chanced to meet an old pilot who had the
reputation of knowing every nook and corner of the Alaskan coast. He
told me several times of the great numbers of bears that he had often
seen in a certain bay on the Alaska Peninsula, and advised me most
strongly to try this place. We now determined to visit this bay in a
good sized schooner we had chartered from the North American Commercial
Company.
There were numerous delays in getting started, but finally, on May 31,
we set sail, and in two days were landed at our new shooting
grounds. Rarely in modern days does it fall to the lot of amateurs to
meet with better sport than we had for the next month.
The schooner landed us with our natives, two baidarkas, and all our
provisions, near the mouth of the harbor. Here we made our base of
supplies, and the next morning in our two canoes started with our
hunters to explore this wonderful bay. At high tide Chinitna Bay extends
inland some fifteen miles, but at low water is one vast bog of glacial
deposit. Rugged mountains rise on all sides, and at the base of these
mountains there are long meadows which extend out to the high water
mark. In these meadows during the month of June the bears come to feed
upon the young and tender salt grass.
There was a long swell breaking on the beach as we left our base of
supplies, but we passed safely through the line of breakers to the
smooth waters beyond, and now headed for the upper bay. The two
baidarkas kept side by side, and Blake and I chatted together, but all
the while kept the glasses constantly fixed upon the hillsides. We had
hardly gone a mile before a small black bear was sighted; but the wind
was unfavorable, and he got our scent before we could land. This looked
decidedly encouraging, and we continued on in the best of spirits. About
mid-day we went on shore, lunched, and then basked in the sun until the
afternoon, when we again got into the baidarkas and paddled further up
the bay to a place where a wide meadow extends out from the base of the
mountains. Here Nikolai, my head hunter, went on shore with the
glasses, and raising himself cautiously above the bank, took a long look
at the country beyond. It was at once quite evident that he had seen
something, and we all joined him, keeping well hidden from view. There,
out upon the marsh, could be seen two large bears feeding upon the young
grass. They seemed in an almost unapproachable position, and we lay and
watched them, hoping that they would move into a more advantageous
place. After an hour or so they fed back toward the trees, and soon
passed out of sight.
We matched to see which part of the meadow each should watch, and it
fell to my lot to go further up the marsh. I had been only a short time
in this place when a new bear came into sight. We now made a most
beautiful stalk right across the open to within a hundred yards. All
this while a new dog, which I had bought at Kadiak and called Stereke,
had crawled with us flat on his stomach, trembling all over with
excitement as he watched the bear. I had plenty of time to take aim, and
was in no way excited, but missed clean at one hundred yards. At the
report of my rifle Stereke bit himself clear from Nikolai, who was
holding him, and at once made for the bear, which he tackled in a most
encouraging manner, nipping his heels, and then quickly getting out of
the way as the bear charged. But I found that one dog was not enough to
hold these bears, and this one got safely away.