Edited by PIERRE N. BERINGER.

I.

THE LOUISIANA SPECTACLED BEAR.

Tremarctos Ornatus.

Some of our scientists have very carefully divided the Genus Ursus into twelve species. While I will admit that these gentlemen are conscientious and that they are thorough in their researches, I wish to point to the fact that they have entirely overlooked three or four species found on the Pacific Coast.

Many writers have completely ignored the spectacled bear of Louisiana. Is he the representative of another genus? Does he belong to the Genus Helarctos (helios, the “sun,” and arctos, “bear”) credited by the majority of writers with basking in the sun, or because of the peculiar markings of his chest, representing a sunburst? He resembles the Helarctos Malayanus of the Malayan archipelago or the Bruang of Java. Or is he the Sloth Bear, Prochilous (or Melursus) labiatus? This bear has been carefully classified as a separate genus found from the Ganges to Ceylon. His description fits rather loosely the so-called sloth of Louisiana. Possibly the Louisiana specimen is of the Genus Tremarctos, of which the learned people tell us there is but a solitary species carefully isolated in the Andes of Chile and Peru. I shall call the Louisiana specimen by the name given him by our poet, the Spectacled Bear, Tremarctos Ornatus, and the professors who have entirely overlooked his existence may classify him later when they find time. At one time the Honey Bear was classified as a “Bradipus,” or sloth, because of its liability to lose its incisors. It was therefore set down as one of the Edentata. It has also been styled the Jungle Bear, the Lipped Bear, and names as various as the investigators’ fancy. The Tremarctos Ornatus of Louisiana, or spectacled bear, is not a sloth. He does not belong to the Edentata, neither is he lazy. He is essentially the clown of all bears, a very intelligent animal, and in many cases the intellectual superior of his keeper. He is active to a degree, and will perform the queerest antics for the amusement of the onlooker. He is quaintly conscious of his mirth-provoking powers, much as a child playing “smarty.” He will quickly climb an inclined log or tree, and then slide down either in an upright position, clasping the log with the knees, or he will slide “down the banister” as a child might. I have seen the merry fellow grab his tail in his mouth and roll over and over until dizzy.

His snout is almost hairless, narrow and proboscis like, and the nostrils and lips are mobile. He shapes these almost into a pipe, through which his long tongue is shot out, drawing things in or sucking them up. It has claws of a bluish gray that are longer than those of any other of the Ursidae. The hair is very long, of a deep brown black. There is a sunburst upon the chest of a white or fulvous hue. The ears are small and scarcely distinguishable, owing to the shaggy mane. The fur is rather coarse and very long.

It lives mainly upon honey and vegetables and sugar cane. In captivity it will very gratefully subsist upon oatmeal and occasional sweets. The animal is easily tamed, and will become attached to its keeper, giving an exhibition of exuberant joy at his approach. It is a jolly good fellow, and shows a marked preference for liquors, refusing all others when it may have champagne.

It will sit on its hind legs and make faces at the onlooker, waving its arms in the most grotesque fashion, while it rolls its body from side to side. This is one of the characteristics that has impressed the negro with the sacredness of this “Voodoo Bear.”

II.

THE GRIZZLY.

Ursus Horribilis or Ferox.

This is the great grizzly of California, whose habits have been described by many writers. It is a shy animal, not nearly as ferocious as has been claimed. “It will always run away if it can,” says General Dodge, “and never attacks unless it is cornered or wounded.” Johnson says “the grizzly is the king of all our animals, and can destroy by blows from his paws the powerful bison of the plains; wolves will not even touch the carcass of the dreaded monster, and, it is said, stand in such awe that they refrain from molesting deer that he has slain. Horses also require careful training before they can be taught to allow its hide to be placed upon their backs.”

In the beautiful legend of the Good Poet the grizzly is the forefather of the Indian, and the Indian gives many proofs to show his descent from the grizzly and the Spirit of the Mountain. I want to add a curious fact: The grizzly is the only one of the Ursidae that moves his toes and fingers independently of one another just like a man. Also the bear walks with his foot full upon the ground. In further proof the grizzly, when young, and all other bears, except one, descend a tree backward and head up, as a man would. The clown bear, or spectacled bear, will sometimes descend head down and enjoy a good laugh over it. At least he seems to laugh. After the grizzly has attained bulk and weight with age, he cannot climb trees, as his claws are not strong enough to sustain his weight.

A short time after “Monarch,” the large grizzly, arrived in San Francisco, my model, a very considerate young person, who loved all animals, came to the studio one day with the story that she had made friends with the great beast. It was about the time when “Monarch” was being starved. He had been removed from the pit to the cage. With very little forethought the cage was built without a cover, and “Monarch” was found one night making an attempt to escape. He was prodded back with red-hot irons. It was not possible to work about the cage, and “Monarch” must be confined in smaller quarters. A very small cage was dropped into the enclosure; this had a slide door and was to serve as a trap. I believe the grizzly is the quickest of all animals. Six times a live chicken was fastened in the small cage, and six times “Monarch’s” long arm had literally “swiped” that fowl. So quick was he that the slide fell only as he was already safely crunching its bones. At the seventh attempt he was a little slow and was caught. After that the iron workers placed the roof in position. The trapping of the monster took six days, and “Monarch” received only the food he managed to get from the trap, and that which my tender-hearted model was feeding him (apples and candy) surreptitiously. As this was against the orders of the keeper, the young woman could feed the bear only at irregular intervals. She continued her kindnesses to him after he had been again given the freedom of the larger cage. Then she went away from the city. She was gone for two years. She married and assumed the rotund proportions of a staid matron, and when next I saw her I joked her about this, saying that she was nearly as fat as her old friend “Monarch.”

At this she was indignant. “Indeed,” she said, “animals are less forgetful than man, and ‘Monarch’ undoubtedly will remember me, even if I am not the slim artist’s model I once was.” I told her “Monarch” was far too much like a man, and that he was now satisfied to look upon the world as well lost, and that short of his dinner there was little that could move him from a comfortable position upon his back, his toes in the air, apparently content, and like a philosopher, wondering why the human displays so much curiosity. “I’ll bet he won’t stir,” I said. The upshot of this conversation was that we found ourselves just outside the railing gazing at his lazy majesty. He rolled his head slowly from side to side, eyeing each newcomer with his bead-like eyes. Suddenly the lady in the case said, “Oh, you dear old darling!” “Monarch” seemed electrified; he rose as quickly as possible—certainly he had grown fat—and then he rushed to the side of the cage. He was not satisfied with looking at her from his ordinary standpoint, but rose upon his feet, extending himself his entire height, that he might better look upon the friend of times of trouble. She held up an apple. “Monarch” dropped to his feet, placed his snout as far out as the bars allowed, and opened his immense jaws. She threw the apple, and the bear sat himself down contentedly to chew it. I firmly believe that young woman could have walked into the cage with an apron full of apples and escaped without injury. “Monarch” remembered his friend.

III.

THE POLAR BEAR.

Thalassarctos Maritimus.

Much uncertainty prevails respecting the generic classification of the bears. Wallace has divided them into five genera or subgenera, and fifteen species. Wood gives eighteen, and Gray says twelve. The appearance of the bear at different seasons has led to much error in classification. The practical mountaineer will tell you of some three or four species in California that have been given notice of as the young of another species, or that have never been mentioned by the learned gentlemen who usually study bear life in the seclusion of a library or with the help of a strong field telescope. A glance at the teeth of the bear will tell you that they incline rather to the vegetable diet. Their ferocity is almost always exaggerated. Their courage is desperate in self-defense, but it is seldom that they become the aggressor. The brain of the bear is very highly developed, and they soon learn all kinds of accomplishments. The lion is an uncouth boor in comparison.

The Polar Bear, Thalassarctos Maritimus, is the only representative of the genus. He is an almost wholly carnivorous animal, his food consisting of fishes and seals, which he skillfully captures. He can swim better than any other bear, and has been known to swim a strait forty miles wide. The fur is silver white tinged with yellow. This color is variable in specimens, and according to the seasons. The head is much smaller than that of the grizzly or black bear, and is ferret-like, with a decided downward curve to the nose. The nose does not possess the flexibility of that of the rest of the bear family, although the polar bear has the higher development of the sense of smell. Johnson says that the flesh is good to eat, but other writers do not agree with him. Kane was poisoned by eating of the liver. In speaking of a capture De Vere wrote as follows: “We dressed her liver and ate it, which in taste liked us well, but it made us all sick * * * for all their skins came off, from the foot to the head, but they recovered again, for which we gave God hearty thanks.” Hall says that the Eskimos of Cumberland Sound likewise believe the liver to be poisonous, even for the dogs. Ross says all who partook of the meat suffered from severe headaches, and later the skin peeled from the body. Greely says his party largely lived upon the meat, and that it was coarse, tough, the fat having a decidedly rank flavor.

I believe that the physiognomist may follow the characteristics of an animal by his facial expression, and that with the aid of a knowledge of the cranial development he can gauge the mental caliber of the beast. Following this system and adding to it the testimony of credible explorers, it is quickly shown that the polar bear is treacherous and intractable. While he is not the wise animal the grizzly is, he is more cunning and is certainly not a coward.

There are times when he is not content with being let alone, but will take the aggressive. Greely writes: “Doctor Copeland was surprised only fifty yards from the ship by a bear which broke from a barrier of ice hummocks, galloped up to within five paces, reared up and struck him down with both forepaws. Copeland had no time to load his gun, but as the animal caught his clothes, he swung the butt across his snout. This and the noise of approaching comrades put the bear to flight, and he started off with the swinging gallop peculiar with him.”

The mother bear and cubs display a great fondness for one another. Koldeway says: “No sooner did the young ones perceive the hunter than they galloped toward their mother, who in two strides turned and stood by them, with such rage expressed in all her actions that we knew we must be careful. Finding, however, that they were unhurt, she seemed to think only of bringing them to a place of safety.”

Some authorities have it that only the she bear hibernates and that the male continues in the active exercise of all his faculties. Ross weighed a polar bear which tipped the scales at 1,131 pounds; Lyon saw one which weighed 1,600 pounds; Dr. Neale tells of one measuring eleven feet exclusive of the tail. Senator Wm. P. Frye has the skin of one, presented to him by an explorer, which measures nine feet seven inches exclusive of the tail of two inches. Its girth around the body just back of the forelegs is ten feet.

IV.

THE CINNAMON BEAR.

Ursus Cinnamoneous.

The Cinnamon Bear has been called a variety of black bear. I am inclined to believe it a separate genus. The head has many points of difference. It is wider. The eyes are set deeper, and closer together. There is a better breadth of brain. The feet are smaller. The fur is rather longer than that of the black bear and much softer. The color is dark chestnut, and as the bear ages there is an occasional gray hair. The cinnamon is more dignified than the black bear, and he also remembers an injury longer. A baby cinnamon was captured by a friend of mine and brought to the city. A chain was placed about its neck, and this was attached to a peg that was hammered in the ground. As soon as I heard of the coming of his bearship I hurried over and made his acquaintance. He ate a quart of milk soaked into as much bread as it would hold, and enjoyed it greatly. He chewed on my finger every time I dipped it into sugared water without biting.

I left him fast asleep. When I returned in the afternoon he was walking from side to side, shaking his head, and howling most dolefully. The cry was much like that of a child, only louder and more disagreeable. He was hungry. I went to him and I said, “Stop it.” At this he howled so it made my head ache. I picked him up, and with the aid of a shingle, I gave him a spanking, just as you would a bad boy. This stopped his howling, and then his master came and fed him.

After this spanking it was very evident that he did not care for my acquaintance. He persistently refused to recognize me. As I approached him his ears would go back, and his fur would rise. He had decided to cut my acquaintance.

Some days after, I was watching a tennis game in the next yard, standing with my back to baby bruin. He couldn’t overlook the opportunity to get even, and, watching his chance, he fastened his teeth in the calf of my leg.

V.

THE BLACK BEAR OF CALIFORNIA.

Ursus Californiensis.

This bear we will label for convenience Ursus Californiensis, because the title of Ursus Americanus has dignified the small black bear of the Eastern states. There are, however, three species of the black bear in California that are known, and there may be more. The large black bear of California reaches very large proportions. I have seen some that might weigh from 800 to 1,000 pounds. It is hunted for its fur, which is uniform in color, and for its flesh, which is quite good, either smoked or fresh. This animal will never seek an encounter with man. I remember my original introduction to a bear of this species. It was in the state of Washington. Owing to ill health I had been staying at what is known there as a ranch. A ranch in the western Washington forests generally consists of a shake hut or log house, and a promise by the “rancher” that he will soon clear enough ground to raise something. Generally this vague something is a mortgage. This particular rancher had a cow, and this cow often strayed away into the timber and had to be looked after when milking time came.

One day, in the exuberance of new found health, I was taking the greatest of pleasure in chasing that cow toward the “shed” road to the ranch. I was feeling especially good, and I was jumping over fallen trees, making short cuts and throwing broken branches and an occasional stone at the old Jersey.

Suddenly I stopped before an extra high log, and gathering myself together, I jumped high over it. I landed upon the upturned belly of an old she bear. There was a sound like the escape of gas from a rubber bag. I passed the cow like a streak of lightning. When I had run a considerable distance I turned my head and saw the bear running in the opposite direction. I did not stop, however, and I got to the ranch nearly an hour before the old cow.

In the shingle mills of the North the Norwegian hands have the same veneration for the bear as the Indian. They always speak of him not as a bear, but as “the old man with the fur coat on.”