Bruin: The Grand Bear Hunt

One of the impedimenta, which the old guardsman carried on his shoulders, was a coil of stout cord – almost a rope. This they had brought with them, in the anticipation of being successful in their hunt; and, with the idea of its being required at the skinning of the bear – as also for packing the hide, or any similar purpose.

It was the presence of this cord that suggested to Alexis the scheme he had conceived, for relieving his faithful follower from his unhappy position; and the plan itself will be understood by our describing its execution, which took place on the instant.

Alexis called to Pouchskin to tie one end of the rope round his body, and then fling the other out upon the snow – as far as he could cast it. This request was instantly complied with; and the end of the rope made its appearance at the feet of Alexis.

The latter taking it in his hand, ran up the bank to the nearest tree; and, giving it a turn or two round the trunk, he handed it to Ivan, with the direction to hold it fast and keep it from slipping. A knot would have served the same purpose; but the whole thing was the work of only a few moments; and as Ivan was standing by doing nothing, his brother thought he might just as well take hold of the rope and save time.

Alexis now crept back, as near to the edge of the trap as it was safe to go. He took with him a long pole, which by a lucky chance, he had found lying under the trees. Slipping this under the rope, and placing it crosswise, he shoved it still nearer to the circumference of the broken circle – his object being to give support to the cord, and keep it from cutting into the snow.

The contrivance was perfectly correct; and as soon as Alexis had got all ready, he shouted to Pouchskin to haul upon the rope, and help himself.

Meanwhile, the old guardsman had slung his fusil upon his back; and, immediately on receiving the signal, commenced his ascent – pulling hand over hand upon the rope, and assisting his arms by working his feet against the wall of snow.

The moment his head appeared above the surface, the laughter of his young masters, that had been for a while suspended, burst forth afresh. And it was no wonder: for the expression upon the old soldier’s visage, as it rose above the white crust, his bent attitude, and the desperate exertions he was making to clamber upward, all combined to form a most ludicrous picture.

Ivan screamed till the tears ran down his cheeks. So overcome was he with mirth, that it is possible he would have let go, and permitted Pouchskin to tumble back into his trap; but the more sober Alexis, foreseeing such a contingency, ran up and took hold of the rope.

By this means, Pouchskin was at length landed safely on the surface of the snow; but even his tall boots of Russia leather had not saved his legs and feet from getting well soaked; and he was now dripping with muddy water from the thighs downwards.

There was no time, however, to kindle a fire and dry him. They did not think of such a thing. So eager were all three in the chase of the bear, that they only waited to coil up the cord, and then continued onward.

Chapter Eight.

The Scandinavian Bears

“Really, now,” said Ivan, pointing to one of the tracks, “if it wasn’t that I see the marks of claws instead of toes, I should fancy we were tracking a man instead of a bear – some barefooted Laplander, for instance. How very like these tracks are to those of a human foot!”

“That is quite true,” rejoined Alexis; “there is a very remarkable resemblance between the footprints of the bear and those of a human being – especially when the trades have stood a while. As it is, now, you can see clearly the marks of the claws; but in a day or two, when the sun or the rain has fallen upon the snow, and melted it a little, the claw marks will then be filled up with the thaw, and, losing their sharp outlines, will look much more like the tracks of toes. For that reason, an old bear-track is, indeed, as you say, very like that of a human foot.”

“And quite as large too?”

“Quite as large: the tracks of some kinds even larger than those of most men. As, for instance, the white and grizzly species – many individuals of both having paws over twelve inches in length!”

“The bear does not tread upon his toes in walking, but lays the whole sole of his foot along the ground – does he not?” asked Ivan.

“Precisely so,” replied Alexis; “and hence he is termed a plantigrade animal, to distinguish him from those other kinds, as horses, oxen, swine, dogs, cats, and so forth, that all, in reality, step upon their toes.”

“There are some other plantigrade animals besides bears?” said Ivan, interrogatively; “our badger and glutton, for instance?”

“Yes,” answered the naturalist. “These are plantigrade; and for this reason they have been classed along with the bears under the general name ursidae; but in father’s opinion, and mine too,” added Alexis, with a slight sparkle of scientific conceit, “this classification is altogether an erroneous one, and rests upon the very insignificant support of the plantigrade feet. In all other respects the different genera of small animals, that have thus been introduced into the family of the bears are, as unlike the latter almost bears as are to blue bottles.”

“What animals have been included in this family ursidae?”

“The European glutton and American wolverine (gulo), the badgers of both continents, and of Asia (meles), the raccoon (procyon), the Cape ratel (mellivora), the panda (ailurus), the benturong (ictides), the coati (nasua), the paradoxure (paradoxurus), and even the curious little teledu of Java (mydaus). It was Linnaeus himself who first entered these animals under the heading of bears– at least, such of them as were known in his day; and the French anatomist, Cuvier, extended this incongruous list to the others. To distinguish them from the true bears, they divided the family into two branches – the ursinae, or bears properly so called, and the subursinae, or little bears. Now, in my opinion,” continued Alexis, “there is not the slightest necessity for calling these numerous species of animals even ‘little bears.’ They are not bears in any sense of the word: having scarce any other resemblance to the noble Bruin than their plantigrade feet. All these animals – the Javanese teledu excepted – have long tails; some of them, in fact, being very long and very bushy – a characteristic altogether wanting to the bears, that can hardly be said to have tails at all. But there are other peculiarities that still more widely separate the bears from the so called ‘little bears;’ and indeed so many essential points of difference, that the fact of their being classed together might easily be shown to be little better than mere anatomical nonsense. It is an outrage upon common sense,” continued Alexis, warming with his subject, “to regard a raccoon as a bear, – an animal that is ten times more like a fox, and certainly far nearer to the genus canis than that of ursus. On the other hand, it is equally absurd to break up the true bears into different genera– as these same anatomists have done; for if there be a family in the world the individual members of which bear a close family likeness to one another, that is the family of Master Bruin. Indeed, so like are the different species, that other learned anatomists have gone to the opposite extreme of absurdity, and asserted that they are all one and the same! However, we shall see as we become acquainted with the different members of this distinguished family, in what respects they differ from each other, and in what they are alike.”

“I have heard,” said Ivan, “that here, in Norway and Lapland, there are two distinct species of the brown bear, besides the black variety, which is so rare; and I have also heard say that the hunters sometimes capture a variety of a greyish colour, which they call the ‘silver bear.’ I think papa mentioned these facts.”

“Just so,” replied Alexis; “it has been the belief among Swedish naturalists that there are two species, or at least permanent varieties, of the brown bear in Northern Europe. They have even gone so far as to give them separate specific names. One is the ursus arctos major, while the other is ursas arctos minor. The former is the larger animal – more fierce in its nature, and more carnivorous in its food. The other, or smaller kind, is of a gentler disposition – or at all events more timid – and instead of preying upon oxen and other domestic animals, confines itself to eating grubs, ants, roots, berries, and vegetable substances. In their colour there is no perceptible difference between the two supposed varieties – more than may be often found between two individuals notedly of the same kind; and it is only in size and habits that a distinction has been observed. The latest and most accurate writers upon this subject believe that the great and little brown bears are not even varieties; and that the distinctive characteristics are merely the effects of age, sex, or other accidental circumstances. It is but natural to suppose that the younger bears would not be so carnivorous as those of greater age. It is well-known that preying upon other animals and feeding upon their flesh, is not a natural instinct of the brown bear; it is a habit that has its origin, first in the scarcity of other food, but which, once entered upon, soon develops itself into a strong propensity – almost equalling that of the felidae.

“As to the black bear being a distinct species, that is a question also much debated among both hunters and naturalists. The hunters say that the fur of the black European bear is never of that jetty blackness which characterises the real black bears of American and Asiatic countries, but only a very dark shade of brown; and they believe that it is nothing more than the brown fur itself, grown darker in old age. Certainly they have reason for this belief: since it is a well-known fact that the brown bears do become darker as they grow older.”

“Ha!” said Ivan, with a laugh, “that is just the reverse with us. Look at Pouchskin there! Your hair was once black, wasn’t it, old Pouchy?”

“Yes, Master Ivan, black as a crow’s feathers.”

“And now you’re as grey as a badger. Some day, before long – before we get home again may be – your moustache, old fellow, will be as white as an ermine.”

“Very like, master, very like – we’ll all be a bit older by that time.”

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Ivan; “you’re right there, Pouchy; but go on, brother!” he added, turning to Alexis, “let us hear all about these Scandinavian bears. You have not spoken yet of the ‘silver’ ones.”

“No,” said Alexis; “nor of another kind that is found in these countries, and that some naturalists have elevated into a different species – the ‘ringed bear.’”

“You mean the bears with a white ring round their necks? Yes, I have heard of them too.”

“Just so,” rejoined Alexis.

“Well, brother, what do you think? is it a distinct species, or a permanent variety?”

“Neither one nor the other. It is merely an accidental marking which some young individuals of the brown bear chance to have, and it scarcely ever remains beyond the age of cubhood. It is only very young bears that are met with of this colour; and the white ring disappears as they get older. It is true that hunters now and then meet with an odd ringed bear of tolerable size and age; but all agree that he is the brown bear, and not a distinct kind. The same remarks apply to the ‘silver’ bear; and hunters say that in a litter of three cubs they have found all three colours – the common brown, the ‘ringed,’ and the ‘silver,’ – while the old mother herself was a true ursus arctos.”

“Well, since papa only binds us to the brown and black, it will be a nice thing if we could fall in with a skin of the ringed and silver varieties. It would please him all the better. I wonder now what sort is this fellow we are following? By the size of his tracks he must be a wopper!”

“No doubt an old male,” rejoined Alexis; “but if I am not mistaken, we shall soon be able to determine that point. The spar gets fresher and fresher. He must have passed here but a very short while ago; and I should not wonder if we were to find him in this very ravine.”

“See!” exclaimed Ivan, whose eyes had been lifted from the trail, and bent impatiently forward; – “see! by the great Peter! yonder’s a hole, under the root of that tree. Why might it not be his cave?”

“It looks like enough. Hush! let us keep to the trail, and go up to it with caution – not a word!”

All three, now scarce breathing – lest the sound should be heard – stole silently along the trail. The fresh-fallen snow, still soft as eider-down, enabled them to proceed without making the slightest noise; and without making any, they crept up, till within half-a-dozen paces of the tree.

Ivan’s conjecture was likely to prove correct. There was a line of tracks leading up the bank; and around the orifice of the cavity the snow was considerably trampled down – as if the bear had turned himself two or three times before entering. That he had entered, the hunters did not entertain a doubt: there were no return tracks visible in the snow – only the single line that led up to the mouth of the cave, and this seemed to prove conclusively that Bruin was “at home.”

Chapter Nine.

Hybernation of Bears

As already stated, it is the custom of the brown bear, as well as of several other species, to go to sleep for a period of several months every winter, – in other words, to hybernate. When about to take this long nap, the bear seeks for himself a cave or den, in which he makes his bed with such soft substances as may be most convenient – dry leaves, grass, moss, or rushes. He collects no great store of these however – his thick matted fur serving him alike for bed and coverlet; and very often he makes no further ado about the matter than to creep into the hole he has chosen, lie down, snugly couch his head among the thickets of long hair that cover his hams, and thus go to sleep.

Some naturalists have asserted that this sleep is a state of torpidity – from which the animal is incapable of awaking himself or of being awakened, until the regular period of indulgence in it may have passed. This, however, is not the case; for bears are often surprised in their sleep, and when aroused by the hunters act just as is usual with them at other times.

It must be observed, however, that the retirement of the bear into winter quarters is not to be regarded as of the same nature as the hybernation of marmots, squirrels, and other species of rodent animals. These creatures merely shut themselves up from the cold; and to meet the exigencies of their voluntary imprisonment, they have already collected in their cells a large store of their usual food. Bees and many other insects do precisely same thing. Not so with the bear. Whether it be that he is not gifted with an instinct of providence it is difficult to say; but certain it is, that he lays up no store for these long dark days, but goes to sleep without thought of the morrow.

How he is maintained for several months without eating is one of nature’s mysteries. Every one has heard the absurd theory: that he does so by “sucking his paws,” and the ingenious Buffon has not only given credence to this story, but endeavours to support it, by stating that the paws when cut open yield a substance of a milky nature!

It is a curious fact that this story is to be found scattered all over the world – wherever bears hybernate. The people of Kamschatka have it; so also the Indians, and Esquimaux of the Hudson’s Bay territory, and the Norwegian and Lap hunters of Europe. Whence did these widely-distributed races of men derive this common idea of a habit which, if the story be a true one, must be common to bears of very different species?

This question can be answered. In northern Europe the idea first originated – among the hunters of Scandinavia. But the odd story once told was too good to be lost; and every traveller, since the first teller of it, has taken care to embellish his narrative about bears with this selfsame conceit; so that, like the tale of the Amazon women in South America, the natives have learnt it from the travellers, and not the travellers from the natives!