American Big Game in Its Haunts - Various
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It was a dreary camp that night, for I had missed an easy shot without a
shadow of excuse. We pitched our small tent at the extreme edge of the
marsh behind a large mass of rocks. I turned in thoroughly depressed,
but awoke the next morning refreshed, and determined to retrieve my
careless shooting of the day before. A bad surf breaking on the beach
prevented our going further up the bay in our baidarkas, as we had
planned to do. We loafed in the sun until evening, while our natives
kept constant watch of the great meadow where we had seen the bears the
day before. We had just turned in, although at ten o'clock it was still
daylight, when one of the natives came running up to say that a bear was
in sight, so Blake, with three natives and Stereke, made the stalk. I
had a beautiful chance to watch it from the high rocks beside our
camp. The men were able to approach to within some fifty yards, and
Blake, with his first shot, hit, and with his third killed the bear
before it could get into the brush. Stereke, when loosed, acted in a
gallant manner, and tackled the bear savagely.
Unfortunately no measurements were taken, but the bear appeared to be
somewhat smaller than the female I killed at Kiliuda Bay, and weighed, I
should judge, some 450 pounds. It appeared higher on the legs and less
massive than the Kadiak bear, and had a shorter mane, but was of much
the same tawny color on the back, although darker on the legs and belly.
Two days later we set out from our camp behind the rocks and paddled a
short distance up the bay.
Here we left the baidarkas and crossed a large meadow without sighting
bear. We then followed some miles the banks of a small stream. Leaving
my friend with his two men, I pushed ahead with my natives to
investigate the country beyond. But the underbrush was so dense it was
impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. We had gone some
distance, and Fedor and I had just crossed a deep stream on a rickety
fallen tree, while the other native was following, when I chanced to
look back and saw a small black bear just opposite. He must have smelt
us, and, wanting to see what sort of creature man was, had deliberately
followed up our tracks. Nikolai had my rifle on the other side of the
brook, so I snatched up Fedor's and twice tried to shoot; but the safety
bolt would not work, and when I had it adjusted the bear showed only one
shoulder beyond a tree. It was just drawing back when I pressed the
trigger. The bullet grazed the tree, was deflected, and a patch of hair
was all that I had for what promised the surest of shots.
In the afternoon we made for a place which our hunters declared was a
sure find for bear; but unlike most "sure places," we sighted our game
even before we reached the ground. There they were, two large grizzled
brutes, feeding on the salt marsh grass like two cows. We made a most
exciting approach in our baidarkas, winding in and out, across the open,
up a small lagoon which cut into the meadow where the bears were
feeding. We got to within two hundred yards when they became suspicious,
but could not quite make us out. One now rose on his hind legs to get a
better view, and offered a beautiful chance, but I waited for my friend,
whose turn it was to have first shot, and he delayed, thinking that I
was not ready. The result was that the bears at once made for the woods,
and we both missed.
Stereke again did his part well, catching one of the bears and tackling
him in a noble manner, turning him and doing his best to hold him, but
this was more than one dog could do, and the bear broke away and soon
reached cover.
I am glad to record that with this day's miss ended some of the most
careless shooting I have ever done.
This evening we made our camp on the beach on the other side of the
bay. I was up frequently during the night, for bears were constantly
moving about on the mountain side just behind our sleeping place, but
although I could distinctly hear them, the thick brush prevented my
getting a shot.
In this latitude there is practically no night during the month of June,
and I can recall no more enchanting spot than where we were now camped.
Even my hard day's work would not bring sleep, and I lay with my
faithful dog at my feet and gazed on the vast mountains about us, their
summits capped with snow, while their sides were clothed in the dull
velvet browns of last year's herbage, through which the vivid greens of
a northern summer were rapidly forcing themselves.
It was after five next morning when we left in our two baidarkas for the
extreme head of the bay, where there was another vast meadow. My friend
chose to hunt the right side of this marsh, while I took the left.
On reaching our watching place I settled myself for the day in my fur
rug, and soon dozed off to finish my night's rest, while my men took
turns with the glasses. About ten o'clock a black bear was sighted a
long way off, but he soon wandered into the thicket which surrounded the
marsh on three sides. At twelve o'clock he appeared again, and we now
circled well to leeward and waited where two trails met at the edge of
the meadow, expecting the bear would work down one of them to us. It was
a long tiresome wait, for we were perched upon some tussocks through
which the water soon found its way. About five o'clock we returned to
our original watching place, where my friend joined me.
The wind had been at a slant, and although we had worked safely around
the bear, he must have got the scent of Blake's party, although a long
way off, for my friend reported that the bear was coming in our
direction, as we had counted upon, when he suddenly threw up his head,
gave one whiff, and started for the woods.
On Friday morning, June 7, we made a three o'clock start from where we
had passed the night on the beach. The sun was not over the mountains
for another hour, and there was that great charm which comes in the
early dawn of a summer's day. Blake in his baidarka, and I in mine,
paddled along, side by side, and pushed up to the extreme head of the
bay, where we came upon an old deserted Indian camp of the year before.
Numerous stretchers told of their success with bear; but the remains of
an old fire in the very heart of our shooting grounds warned us that in
this section the bears might have been disturbed; for the Alaskan bear
is very wary, and is quick to take alarm at any unusual scent. We came
back to our camp on the beach by ten o'clock, and had our first
substantial meal of the day; for we had now adopted the Aleutian habit
of taking simply a cup of tea and a piece of bread in order to make the
earliest of starts each morning.
After our mid-day breakfast, we usually took a nap until afternoon; but
this day I was not sleepy, and so read for a while, then I loaded my
rifle, which I always kept within arm's reach, and was just settling my
rugs to turn in, when Stereke gave a sharp bark, and Blake shouted,
"Bear." Seizing my rifle I looked up, and walking toward us on the
beach, just 110 yards away, was a good sized bull bear. My dog at once
made for him, while Blake jumped for his rifle. The bear was just
turning when I fired. He bit for the wound, but uttered no sound, and
was just disappearing in the brush when I fired a hasty second; Blake
and I followed into the thick alders after the dog, which was savagely
attacking the bear. His barking told us where the bear was, and I
arrived just in time to see him make a determined charge at the dog,
which quickly avoided him, and just as quickly renewed the attack.
I forced my way through the alders and got in two close shots, which
rolled him over. It appeared that my first shot had broken his shoulder,
as well as cut the lower portion of the heart; but this bear had gone
some fifty yards, and was still on his feet, when I came up and finished
him off. He was a fair sized bull, six feet two inches in a straight
line along the vertebrae, and stood exactly three feet at the
shoulders. He had evidently been fighting, for one ear was badly torn,
and his skin was much scarred with old and recent wounds. After
removing the pelt the carcass was thrown into the bay, so that there
might be no stench, which my natives declared would be enough to spoil
any future shooting in this locality. This same afternoon we moved our
camp to a new marsh, but the wind was changeable, and we saw nothing.
The next morning we sighted a bear, which fed into the woods before we
had time to come up with him. Shortly after five o'clock the brute made
a second appearance, but as the wind had changed and now blew in the
wrong direction, a stalk could not be made without our scent being
carried into the woods, where many bears were apt to be. We made it a
great point never to make a stalk unless the wind was right, for we were
extremely anxious not to spoil the place by diffusing our scent, and
driving away whatever bears might be lurking near. Therefore, many times
we had a chance to watch bears at only a few hundred yards' distance.
It was most interesting to see how careful these big animals were, and
how, from time to time, they would feel the wind with their noses, and
again stop feeding and listen. No two bears seemed to be built on quite
the same lines. Some were high at the shoulders and then sloped down
toward the rump and nose; and again, others were saddle-backed; still
others stood with their front feet directly under them, making a regular
curve at the shoulders; while others had the front legs wide apart, and
seemed to form a triangle, the apex of which was at the shoulders.
Their range of color seemed to be from very dark, silver-tipped, to a
very light dirty yellow, but with dark legs and belly.
This evening, just as we were having our tea, another bear made his
appearance. The first, which we had been watching, evidently heard him
coming through the woods, and as the second came out into the open the
former vanished. The new one was a dirty yellowish white, with very dark
belly and legs, which gave him a most comical appearance.
The wind still continued unfavorable, and my friend and I passed an
extremely interesting evening with the glasses, for this watching game,
especially bear, gives me almost as much pleasure as making the actual
stalk.
About ten o'clock the wind changed, and Blake went after the bear, but
unfortunately missed at about one hundred yards.
The following day opened dull, and we spent the morning keeping a sharp
watch on the marsh. About ten o'clock a large bear was seen to come out
from the trees. The wind was wrong, and as the bear was in an
unapproachable position I had to sit with folded arms and watch him. I
used the glasses with much interest until shortly after four o'clock,
when he slowly fed into the brush.
We had just finished supper when we saw another bear in a better
position, and I proceeded to make the stalk, going part of the way in
the baidarka, for the great meadow was intersected by a stream from
which small lagoons made off in all directions. The wind was very
baffling, and although we successfully reached a clump of brush in the
middle of the marsh, the bear for some time continued to graze in an
unapproachable spot. We had almost given up hope of getting a shot,
when he turned and fed slowly some fifty yards in a new direction, which
was up-wind. This was our chance. Quickly regaining the baidarka, we
paddled as noiselessly and rapidly as possible up the main stream of the
marsh to a small lagoon, which now at high tide had sufficient water to
float us.
There was great charm in stalking game in this manner, although I was,
in a sense, but a passenger in my natives' hands. But it was fascinating
to watch their keenness and skill as they guided the frail craft round
the sharp turns, the noiseless use of the paddles, the light in their
eye as they constantly stood up in the canoe to keep a hidden gaze upon
the game ahead, watching its every movement as well as the local eddies
and currents in the light evening breeze. All was so in keeping with the
sombre leaden clouds overhead, and the grizzled sides of the ungainly
brute, blending in with the background of weather-beaten tree trunks and
the dull gray rocks. And so, silently and swiftly, stopping many times
when the bear's head was up, we approached nearer and nearer, until my
head man whispered, _Boudit_ (enough), and I knew that I was to
have a fair shot. Stealthily raising my head above the bank I saw the
bear feeding, only seventy-five yards away. Creeping cautiously out of
the boat I lay flat upon my stomach, rifle cocked and ready, waiting for
a good shot. Soon it came. The bear heard some sound in the forest, and
raised his head. Now was my chance, and the next second he dropped
without a sound; he struggled to rise, but I could see he was anchored
with a broken shoulder. My men were unable to restrain themselves any
longer, and as I shot for the second time, their rifles cracked just
after mine. We now rushed up to close quarters. The bear, shot through
the lungs, was breathing heavily and rapidly choking.
Suddenly I heard a yap, and then, out over the marsh, came Stereke at
full speed. I had left him with my friend, as we thought we might have
to do some delicate stalking across the open. He had sighted the bear,
and watched our approach all a-tremble, and at the report of my rifle
there was no holding him. Over the ground he came in great bounds, and
arrived just in time to give the bear a couple of shakes before he
breathed his last. We carried the entire carcass to the baidarka, and
even the cartridge shells were taken away, to avoid tainting the place
with an unusual scent.
The next day we returned to the main camp, for Fedor, who was ill, had
become very weak, and was in no condition to stand any hardships. We
left him at the main camp in care of Payjaman. He was greatly
depressed, and seemed to give way completely, frequently saying that he
never expected to see his home again. Knowing the Aleut's character so
well, I much feared that his mental state might work fatal results. Our
medicines were of the simplest, and there was but little we could
do. Fortunately he did recover, but it was not until two weeks later,
when our hunt was nearly over, that he began to get better.
Three days afterward we were back again at our camp behind the rocks. We
had wanted rain for some time to wash out all scent. Then again bears
are supposed to move about more freely in such weather. Therefore we
were rather pleased when the wind changed, bringing a northwest storm
which continued all the next day. The lofty mountains were rapidly
losing the snow on their summits, and the night's rain had wrought
marvels in their appearance, seeming to bring out every shade of green
on their wooded slopes. One of our natives was kept constantly on the
lookout, and a dozen times a day both Blake and I would leave our books
and climb to the watching place for a view across the great meadow. By
this time we knew the bear trails and the most tempting feeding grounds,
and the surest approaches to the game when it had once come into the
open. Therefore when I was told this evening that a bear had been
sighted, I felt pretty sure of getting a shot. He had not come well out
into the open, and was clearly keeping near cover and working parallel
to the brush. If he continued in this direction he would soon be out of
sight. Our only chance was to make a quick approach, and Nikolai and I
were immediately under way, leaving my dog with my friend, who was to
loose him in case I got a shot.
The wind was coming in great gusts across our front, and the corner
where the bear was feeding offered a dangerous place for eddies and
back-currents against the mountain side. In order to avoid these, we
kept just inside the woods. Nikolai going first showed the greatest
skill in knowing just how close to the wind we could go. We quickly
reached the place where we expected to sight the bear, but he was hidden
in the bed of the river, and it was some minutes before we could make
out the top of his head moving above the grass. Then noiselessly we
crawled up as the bear again fed slowly into view. He was now about 125
yards away, and offered an excellent shot as he paused and raised his
head to scent the breeze; but Nikolai whispered, "No," and we worked
nearer, crawling forward when the bear's head was down, and lying flat
and close when his head was up.
It is curious to note that often when game is being stalked it becomes
suspicious, although it cannot smell, hear, or see the stalker;
instinct, perhaps--call it what you will. And now this bear turned and
began moving slowly toward cover. For some time he was hidden from
view, and then, just before he would finally vanish from sight, he
paused a moment, offering a quartering shot. The lower half of his body
was concealed by the grass, but it was my last chance, and I took it,
aiming for the lungs and rather high in order to get a clear shot. I saw
as he bit for the wound that the bullet was well placed, and as he
turned and lumbered across our front, I fired two more deliberate shots,
one going through the fore leg and one breaking a hind leg.
Nikolai also fired, giving the bear a slight skin wound, and hitting the
hind leg just above where one of my bullets had previously struck. As
the bear entered the brush we both ran up, my hunter going to the left
while I went a little below to head the bear off. We soon came upon him,
and Nikolai, getting the first sight, gave him another bullet through
the lungs with my heavy rifle, and in a few moments he rolled over dead.
It was my thought always to keep a wounded bear from getting into the
brush, as the blood trail would have ruined future shooting.
I think it important to point out that when my bullet struck this bear
he bit for the wound. As he did so he was turned from his original
direction, which would have carried him in one bound out of sight among
the trees, and instead turned and galloped across our front, thereby
giving me an opportunity to fire two more shots. It frequently happened
that bears were turned from their original direction to the sides upon
which they received the first bullet, and we always gave this matter
careful consideration when making an approach.
My Aleuts were not permitted to shoot unless we were following up a
wounded bear in the thick brush; but I found it most difficult to keep
them to this rule. The large hole of the bullet from my .50-caliber which
Nikolai carried made it easy to distinguish his hits, and if a bear had
received the mortal wound from his rifle, I should not have kept the
skin.
The pelt of this bear which we had just killed was in excellent
condition, and although he was not fat, he was of fair size, measuring 6
feet 3-1/8 inches along the vertebrae.
Great care was taken as usual to pick up the empty cartridge shells, and
we pulled up the bloody bits of grass, throwing them into a brook, into
which we put also the bear's carcass.
The storm continued for several days, and was accompanied by an
unfavorable wind, which drew up into all our shooting grounds. We kept
quietly in camp, which was so situated that although we were just
opposite the great marsh, our scent was carried safely away. Then we
were most careful to have only small fires for our cooking, and we were
extremely particular to select dry wood, so that there would be as
little smoke as possible.
All this while we kept a constant watch upon the meadow, but no bears
made their appearance.
On the morning of the 19th, my friend and his hunter went up the shore
to investigate a small marsh lying a mile or so from camp. Here they saw
that the grass had been recently nibbled, and that there were fresh
signs about. They returned to this spot again that evening and sighted a
bear. The bear fed quickly up to within sixty-five yards, when Blake
rolled him over. This bear was not a large one, and was of the usual
tawny color.
The next morning a bear was seen by my natives in the big meadow by our
camp, but he did not remain long enough for a stalk. At 9:30 he again
came out into the open, and Nikolai and I made a quick approach, but the
bear, although he was not alarmed, did not wait long enough for us to
get within range. We had skirted the marsh, keeping just inside of the
thicket, and now when the bear disappeared we settled ourselves for a
long wait should he again come into the open. We were well hidden from
view, and the wind blew slanting in our faces and across our front. I
had just begun to think that we should not get a shot until the bear
came out for his evening feed, when Nikolai caught my arm and pointed
ahead. There, slowly leaving the dense edge of the woods, was a new
bear, not so large as the first, but we could see at a glance that she
had a beautiful coat of a dark silver-tip color.
Removing boots and stockings, and circling around, we came out about
seventy-five yards from where we had last seen the bear; but she had
moved a short distance ahead, and offered us a grand chance for a close
approach. Keeping behind a small point which made out into the open, we
were able to crawl up to within fifty yards, and then, waiting until the
bear's head was up, I gave her a quartering shot behind the
shoulders. She half fell, and bit for the wound, and as she slowly
started for the woods I gave her another shot which rolled her
over. This bear proved to be a female, the first we had shot upon the
mainland, probably the mate of the bear we had originally attempted to
stalk. The skin, although small, was the most beautiful I have ever
killed.
Upon examining the internal effects of my shots, I was disappointed to
find that my first bullet, on coming in contact with one of the ribs,
had torn away from the metal jacket and had expanded to, such an extent
that it lost greatly in penetration. I had of late been forced to the
conclusion that the small-bore rifle I was using on such heavy game
lacked the stopping force I had credited it with, and that the bullets
were not of sufficient weight.
The next morning I sent our men to the main camp for provisions, for we
now intended to give this marsh a rest, and go to the head of the bay.
They returned that evening, and reported that they had seen a bear on
the mountain side; they had stalked to within close range, and had made
an easy kill. They had but one rifle with them, and had taken turns,
Ivan having the first shot, while Nikolai finished the bear off. This
skin was a beautiful one, of light yellowish color, and although our men
wanted to present it to us, neither Blake nor I cared to bring it home
with the trophies we had shot.
On June 23 we turned our baidarkas' bows to the upper bay, at the head
of which we ascended a small river that wound through a vast meadow
until the stream met the mountains. Here we unloaded our simple camp
gear, and while the men prepared breakfast, Blake and I ascended an
elevation which commanded an uninterrupted view of the grassy plain. No
bears were in sight, so we had time and undisturbed opportunity to enjoy
the beauty of the scene. We lay for some time basking in the sun,
talking of books and people, and of many subjects of common
interest. Now and then one would take the glasses and scan the outskirts
of the vast meadow which stretched before us. All at once Blake gave a
low exclamation and pointed to the west. I followed the direction of his
gaze, and saw four bears slowly leaving the woods. They were at some
distance, and we did not think we had time to reach them before they
would probably return to the underbrush for their mid-day sleep, so for
the present we let them go.
After breakfast, as they were still In the same place, we attempted the
stalk, going most of the way in our baidarkas, winding in and out
through the meadow in the small lagoons which intersected it in all
directions. Every little while the men would ascend the banks with the
glasses, thus keeping a watchful eye upon the bears' movements. Taking
a time when they had fed into the underbrush, we made a quick circle to
leeward over the open, then reaching the edge of the thicket, we
approached cautiously to a selected watching place. We reached this
spot shortly after one o'clock. The bears had entered the woods, so we
settled ourselves for a long wait. It was Blake's turn to shoot, which
meant that he was to have an undisturbed first shot at the largest bear,
and after he had fired I could take what was left.
Just before three o'clock three bears again made their appearance. Two
were yearlings which in the fall would leave their mother and shift for
themselves, and one much larger, which lay just at the edge of the
underbrush. Had these yearlings not been with the mother she would not
have come out so early in the afternoon, and, as it was, she kept in the
shadow of the alders, while the two smaller ones fed out some distance
from the woods.
We now removed our boots, and, with Stereke well in hand, for he smelt
the bears and was tugging hard on his collar, noiselessly skirted the
woods, keeping some tall grass between the bears and ourselves. In this
way we approached to within one hundred yards. Twice one of the smaller
animals rose on his hind legs and looked in our direction; but the wind
was favorable, and we were well concealed, so they did not take alarm.