Johnny Bear by E. T. Seton
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E. T. Seton >> Johnny Bear
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[Illustration: His Whole Appearance Suggested Dyspepsia.]
JOHNNY BEAR
and other stories
from
Lives of the Hunted
by
Ernest Thompson Seton
[Illustration]
CONTENTS:
JOHNNY BEAR
His Whole Appearance Suggested Dyspepsia
But Johnny Wanted to See
A Syrup-tin Kept Him Happy for a Long Time
TITO: THE STORY OF THE COYOTE THAT LEARNED HOW
Coyotito, the Captive
They Considered Themselves Acquainted
Their Evening Song
Tito and her Brood
Tito's Race for Life
WHY THE CHICKADEE GOES CRAZY ONCE A YEAR
JOHNNY BEAR
I
Johnny was a queer little bear cub that lived with Grumpy, his mother,
in the Yellowstone Park. They were among the many Bears that found a
desirable home in the country about the Fountain Hotel.
[Illustration]
The steward of the Hotel had ordered the kitchen garbage to be dumped in
an open glade of the surrounding forest, thus providing throughout the
season, a daily feast for the Bears, and their numbers have increased
each year since the law of the land has made the Park a haven of
refuge where no wild thing may be harmed. They have accepted man's
peace-offering, and many of them have become so well known to the Hotel
men that they have received names suggested by their looks or ways. Slim
Jim was a very long-legged thin Blackbear; Snuffy was a Blackbear that
looked as though he had been singed; Fatty was a very fat, lazy Bear
that always lay down to eat; the Twins were two half-grown, ragged
specimens that always came and went together. But Grumpy and Little
Johnny were the best known of them all.
[Illustration]
Grumpy was the biggest and fiercest of the Blackbears, and Johnny,
apparently her only son, was a peculiarly tiresome little cub, for he
seemed never to cease either grumbling or whining. This probably meant
that he was sick, for a healthy little Bear does not grumble all the
time, any more than a healthy child. And indeed Johnny looked sick;
he was the most miserable specimen in the Park. His whole appearance
suggested dyspepsia; and this I quite understood when I saw the awful
mixtures he would eat at that garbage-heap. Anything at all that he
fancied he would try. And his mother allowed him to do as he pleased;
so, after all, it was chiefly her fault, for she should not have
permitted such things.
Johnny had only three good legs, his coat was faded and mangy, his limbs
were thin, and his ears and paunch were disproportionately large. Yet
his mother thought the world of him. She was evidently convinced that
he was a little beauty and the Prince of all Bears, so, of course, she
quite spoiled him. She was always ready to get into trouble on his
account, and he was always delighted to lead her there. Although such
a wretched little failure, Johnny was far from being a fool, for he
usually knew just what he wanted and how to get it, if teasing his
mother could carry the point.
II
It was in the summer of 1897 that I made their acquaintance. I was in
the park to study the home life of the animals, and had been told that
in the woods, near the Fountain Hotel, I could see Bears at any time,
which, of course, I scarcely believed. But on stepping out of the back
door five minutes after arriving, I came face to face with a large
Blackbear and her two cubs.
I stopped short, not a little startled. The Bears also stopped and sat
up to look at me. Then Mother Bear made a curious short _Koff Koff_, and
looked toward a near pine-tree. The cubs seemed to know what she meant,
for they ran to this tree and scrambled up like two little monkeys, and
when safely aloft they sat like small boys, holding on with their hands,
while their little black legs dangled in the air, and waited to see what
was to happen down below.
[Illustration]
The Mother Bear, still on her hind legs, came slowly toward me, and I
began to feel very uncomfortable indeed, for she stood about six feet
high in her stockings and had apparently never heard of the magical
power of the human eye.
I had not even a stick to defend myself with, and when she gave a low
growl, I was about to retreat to the Hotel, although previously assured
that the Bears have always kept their truce with man. However, just at
this turning point the old one stopped, now but thirty feet away, and
continued to survey me calmly. She seemed in doubt for a minute, but
evidently made up her mind that, "although that human thing might be all
right, she would take no chances for her little ones."
She looked up to her two hopefuls, and gave a peculiar whining _Er-r-r
Er-r,_ whereupon they, like obedient children, jumped, as at the word
of command. There was nothing about them heavy or bear-like as commonly
understood; lightly they swung from bough to bough till they dropped to
the ground, and all went off together into the woods. I was much tickled
by the prompt obedience of the little Bears. As soon as their mother
told them to do something they did it. They did not even offer a
suggestion. But I also found out that there was a good reason for it,
for had they not done as she had told them they would have got such a
spanking as would have made them howl.
[Illustration]
This was a delightful peep into Bear home life, and would have been well
worth coming for, if the insight had ended there. But my friends in the
Hotel said that that was not the best place for Bears. I should go to
the garbage-heap, a quarter-mile off in the forest. There, they said, I
surely could see as many Bears as I wished (which was absurd of them).
[Illustration]
Early the next morning I went to this Bears' Banqueting Hall in the
pines, and hid in the nearest bushes.
Before very long a large Blackbear came quietly out of the woods to
the pile, and began turning over the garbage and feeding. He was very
nervous, sitting up and looking about at each slight sound, or running
away a few yards when startled by some trifle. At length he cocked his
ears and galloped off into the pines, as another Blackbear appeared. He
also behaved in the same timid manner, and at last ran away when I shook
the bushes in trying to get a better view.
At the outset I myself had been very nervous, for of course no man is
allowed to carry weapons in the Park; but the timidity of these Bears
reassured me, and thenceforth I forgot everything in the interest of
seeing the great, shaggy creatures in their home life. [Illustration]
Soon I realized I could not get the close insight I wished from that
bush, as it was seventy-five yards from the garbage-pile. There was none
nearer; so I did the only thing left to do: I went to the garbage-pile
itself, and, digging a hole big enough to hide in, remained there all
day long, with cabbage-stalks, old potato-peelings, tomato-cans, and
carrion piled up in odorous heaps around me. Notwithstanding the
opinions of countless flies, it was not an attractive place. Indeed, it
was so unfragrant that at night, when I returned to the Hotel, I was not
allowed to come in until after I had changed my clothes in the woods.
It had been a trying ordeal, but I surely did see Bears that day. If
I may reckon it a new Bear each time one came, I must have seen over
forty. But of course it was not, for the Bears were coming and going.
And yet I am certain of this: there were at least thirteen Bears, for I
had thirteen about me at one time.
All that day I used my sketch-book and journal. Every Bear that came was
duly noted; and this process soon began to give the desired insight into
their ways and personalities.
Many unobservant persons think and say that all Negroes, or all
Chinamen, as well as all animals of a kind, look alike. But just as
surely as each human being differs from the next, so surely each animal
is different from its fellow; otherwise how would the old ones know
their mates or the little ones their mother, as they certainly do?
These feasting Bears gave a good illustration of this, for each had its
individuality; no two were quite alike in appearance or in character.
[Illustration]
This curious fact also appeared: I could hear the Woodpeckers pecking
over one hundred yards away in the woods, as well as the Chickadees
chickadeeing, the Blue-jays blue-jaying, and even the Squirrels
scampering across the leafy forest floor; and yet I _did not hear one of
these Bears come_. Their huge, padded feet always went down in exactly
the right [Illustration: But Johnny Wanted to See.] spot to break no
stick, to rustle no leaf, showing how perfectly they had learned the art
of going in silence through the woods.
III
All morning the Bears came and went or wandered near my hiding-place
without discovering me; and, except for one or two brief quarrels, there
was nothing very exciting to note. But about three in the afternoon it
became more lively.
[Illustration]
There were then four large Bears feeding on the heap. In the middle
was Fatty, sprawling at full length as he feasted, a picture of placid
ursine content, puffing just a little at times as he strove to save
himself the trouble of moving by darting out his tongue like a long red
serpent, farther and farther, in quest of the titbits just beyond claw
reach.
Behind him Slim Jim was puzzling over the anatomy and attributes of
an ancient lobster. It was something outside his experience, but the
principle, "In case of doubt take the trick," is well known in Bearland,
and it settled the difficulty.
The other two were clearing out fruit-tins with marvellous dexterity.
One supple paw would hold the tin while the long tongue would dart again
and again through the narrow opening, avoiding the sharp edges, yet
cleaning out the can to the last taste of its sweetness.
This pastoral scene lasted long enough to be sketched, but was ended
abruptly. My eye caught a movement on the hilltop whence all the Bears
had come, and out stalked a very large Blackbear with a tiny cub. It was
Grumpy and Little Johnny.
The old Bear stalked down the slope toward the feast, and Johnny hitched
alongside, grumbling as he came, his mother watching him as solicitously
as ever a hen did her single chick. When they were within thirty yards
of the garbage-heap, Grumpy turned to her son and said something which,
judging from its effect, must have meant: "Johnny, my child, I think you
had better stay here while I go and chase those fellows away."
Johnny obediently waited; but he wanted to _see_, so he sat up on his
hind legs with eyes agog and ears acock.
Grumpy came striding along with dignity, uttering warning growls as she
approached the four Bears. They were too much engrossed to pay any heed
to the fact that yet another one of them was coming, till Grumpy, now
within fifteen feet, let out a succession of loud coughing sounds, and
charged into them. Strange to say, they did not pretend to face her,
but, as soon as they saw who it was, scattered and all fled for the
woods.
Slim Jim could safely trust his heels, and the other two were not far
behind; but poor Fatty, puffing hard and waddling like any other very
fat creature, got along but slowly, and, unluckily for him, he fled in
the direction of Johnny, so that Grumpy overtook him in a few bounds
and gave him a couple of sound slaps in the rear which, if they did not
accelerate his pace, at least made him bawl, and saved him by changing
his direction. Grumpy, now left alone in possession of the feast, turned
toward her son and uttered the whining _Er-r-r Er-r-r Er-r-r-r,_ Johnny
responded eagerly. He came "hoppity-hop" on his three good legs as fast
as he could, and, joining her on the garbage, they began to have such a
good time that Johnny actually ceased grumbling.
[Illustration]
He had evidently been there before now, for he seemed to know quite well
the staple kinds of canned goods. One might almost have supposed that he
had learned the brands, for a lobster-tin had no charm for him as long
as he could find those that once were filled with jam. Some of the tins
gave him much trouble, as he was too greedy or too clumsy to escape
being scratched by the sharp edges. One seductive fruit-tin had a hole
so large that he found he could force his head into it, and for a few
minutes his joy was full as he licked into all the farthest corners.
But when he tried to draw his head out, his sorrows began, for he found
himself caught. He could not get out, and he scratched and screamed like
any other spoiled child, giving his mother no end of concern, although
she seemed not to know how to help him. When at length he got the tin
off his head, he revenged himself by hammering it with his paws till it
was perfectly flat.
A large syrup-can made him happy for a long time. It had had a lid, so
that the hole was round and smooth; but it was not big enough to admit
his head, and he could not touch its riches with his tongue stretched
out its longest. He soon hit on a plan, however. Putting in his little
black arm, he churned it around, then drew out and licked it clean; and
while he licked one he got the other one ready; and he did this again
and again, until the [Illustration: A Syrup-tin Kept Him Happy for
a Long Time] can was as clean inside as when first it had left the
factory.
A broken mouse-trap seemed to puzzle him. He clutched it between his
fore paws, their strong inturn being sympathetically reflected in his
hind feet, and held it firmly for study. The cheesy smell about it was
decidedly good, but the thing responded in such an uncanny way, when he
slapped it, that he kept back a cry for help only by the exercise of
unusual self-control. After gravely inspecting it, with his head first
on this side and then on that, and his lips puckered into a little
tube, he submitted it to the same punishment as that meted out to the
refractory fruit-tin, and was rewarded by discovering a nice little bit
of cheese in the very heart of the culprit.
[Illustration]
Johnny had evidently never heard of ptomaine-poisoning, for nothing came
amiss. After the jams and fruits gave out he turned his attention to the
lobster- and sardine-cans, and was not appalled by even the army beef.
His paunch grew quite balloon-like, and from much licking, his arms
looked thin and shiny, as though he was wearing black silk gloves.
IV
It occurred to me that I might now be in a really dangerous place. For
it is one thing surprising a Bear that has no family responsibilities,
and another stirring up a bad-tempered old mother by frightening her
cub.
[Illustration]
"Supposing," I thought, "that cranky Little Johnny should wander over to
this end of the garbage and find me in the hole; he will at once set up
a squall, and his mother, of course, will think I am hurting him, and,
without giving me a chance to explain, may forget the rules of the Park
and make things very unpleasant."
Luckily, all the jam-pots were at Johnny's end; he stayed by them, and
Grumpy stayed by him. At length he noticed that his mother had a better
tin than any he could find, and as he ran whining to take it from her he
chanced to glance away up the slope. There he saw something that made
him sit up and utter a curious little _Koff Koff Koff Koff._
His mother turned quickly, and sat up to see "what the child was looking
at." I followed their gaze, and there, oh, horrors! was an enormous
Grizzly Bear. He was a monster; he looked like a fur-clad omnibus coming
through the trees.
Johnny set up a whine at once and got behind his mother. She uttered a
deep growl, and all her back hair stood on end. Mine did too, but I kept
as still as possible.
With stately tread the Grizzly came on. His vast shoulders sliding
along his sides, and his silvery robe swaying at each tread, like
the trappings on an elephant, gave an impression of power that was
appalling.
[Illustration]
Johnny began to whine more loudly, and I fully sympathized with him now,
though I did not join in. After a moment's hesitation Grumpy turned to
her noisy cub and said something that sounded to me like two or three
short coughs--_Koff Koff Koff_. But I imagine that she really said: "My
child, I think you had better get up that tree, while I go and drive the
brute away."
[Illustration]
At any rate, that was what Johnny did, and this what she set out to do.
But Johnny had no notion of missing any fun. He wanted to _see_ what was
going to happen. So he did not rest contented where he was hidden in the
thick branches of the pine, but combined safety with view by climbing to
the topmost branch that would bear him, and there, sharp against the
sky, he squirmed about and squealed aloud in his excitement. The branch
was so small that it bent under his weight, swaying this way and that as
he shifted about, and every moment I expected to see it snap off. If it
had been broken when swaying my way, Johnny would certainly have fallen
on me, and this would probably have resulted in bad feelings between
myself and his mother; but the limb was tougher than it looked, or
perhaps Johnny had had plenty of experience, for he neither lost his
hold nor broke the branch.
Meanwhile, Grumpy stalked out to meet the Grizzly. She stood as high as
she could and set all her bristles on end; then, growling and chopping
her teeth, she faced him.
The Grizzly, so far as I could see, took no notice of her. He came
striding toward the feast although alone. But when Grumpy got within
twelve feet of him she uttered a succession of short, coughy roars,
and, charging, gave him a tremendous blow on the ear. The Grizzly was
surprised; but he replied with a left-hander that knocked her over like
a sack of hay.
Nothing daunted, but doubly furious, she jumped up and rushed at him.
Then they clinched and rolled over and over, whacking and pounding,
snorting and growling, and making no end of dust and rumpus. But above
all then: noise I could clearly hear Little Johnny, yelling at the top
of his voice, and evidently encouraging his mother to go right in and
finish the Grizzly at once.
Why the Grizzly did not break her in two I could not understand. After a
few minutes' struggle, during which I could see nothing but dust and
dim flying legs, the two separated as by mutual consent--perhaps the
regulation time was up--and for a while they stood glaring at each
other, Grumpy at least much winded.
The Grizzly would have dropped the matter right there. He did not wish
to fight. He had no idea of troubling himself about Johnny. All he
wanted was a quiet meal. But no! The moment he took one step toward the
garbage-pile, that is, as Grumpy thought, toward Johnny, she went at him
again. But this time the Grizzly was ready for her. With one blow he
knocked her off her feet and sent her crashing on to a huge upturned
pine-root. She was fairly staggered this time. The force of the blow,
and the rude reception of the rooty antlers, seemed to take all the
fight out of her. She scrambled over and tried to escape. But the
Grizzly was mad now. He meant to punish her, and dashed around the root.
For a minute they kept up a dodging chase about it; but Grumpy was
quicker of foot, and somehow always managed to keep the root between
herself and her foe, while Johnny, safe in the tree, continued to take
an intense and uproarious interest.
[Illustration] At length, seeing he could not catch her that way, the
Grizzly sat up on his haunches; and while he doubtless was planning a
new move, old Grumpy saw her chance, and making a dash, got away from
the root and up to the top of the tree where Johnny was perched.
[Illustration]
Johnny came down a little way to meet her, or perhaps so that the tree
might not break off with the additional weight. Having photographed this
interesting group from my hiding-place, I thought I must get a closer
picture at any price, and for the first time in the day's proceedings I
jumped out of the hole and ran under the tree. This move proved a great
mistake, for here the thick lower boughs came between, and I could see
nothing at all of the Bears at the top.
I was close to the trunk, and was peering about and seeking for a chance
to use the camera, when old Grumpy began to come down, chopping her
teeth and uttering her threatening cough at me. While I stood in doubt I
heard a voice far behind me calling: "Say, Mister! You better look out;
that ole B'ar is liable to hurt you."
I turned to see the cow-boy of the Hotel on his Horse. He had been
riding after the cattle, and chanced to pass near just as events were
moving quickly.
"Do you know these Bears?" said I, as he rode up.
"Wall, I reckon I do," said he. "That there little one up top is Johnny;
he's a little crank. An' the big un is Grumpy; she's a big crank. She's
mighty onreliable gen'relly, but she's always strictly ugly when Johnny
hollers like that."
"I should much like to get her picture when she comes down," said I.
"Tell ye what I'll do: I'll stay by on the pony, an' if she goes to
bother you I reckon I can keep her off," said the man.
[Illustration]
He accordingly stood by as Grumpy slowly came down from branch to
branch, growling and threatening. But when she neared the ground she
kept on the far side of the trunk, and finally slipped down and ran into
the woods, without the slightest pretence of carrying out any of her
dreadful threats. Thus Johnny was again left alone. He climbed up to his
old perch and resumed his monotonous whining: _Wah! Wah! Wal!_! ("Oh,
dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!")
I got the camera ready, and was arranging deliberately to take his
picture in his favourite and peculiar attitude for threnodic song, when
all at once he began craning his neck and yelling, as he had done during
the fight.
I looked where his nose pointed, and here was the Grizzly coming on
straight toward me--not charging, but striding along, as though he meant
to come the whole distance.
I said to my cow-boy friend: "Do you know this Bear?"
He replied: "Wall! I reckon I do. That's the ole Grizzly. He's the
biggest B'ar in the Park. He gen'relly minds his own business, but he
ain't scared o' nothin'; an' to-day, ye see, he's been scrappin', so
he's liable to be ugly."
[Illustration]
"I would like to take his picture," said I; "and if you will help me, I
am willing to take some chances on it."
"All right," said he, with a grin. "I'll stand by on the Horse, an' if
he charges you I'll charge him; an' I kin knock him down once, but I
can't do it twice. You better have your tree picked out."
As there was only one tree to pick out, and that was the one that Johnny
was in, the prospect was not alluring. I imagined myself scrambling up
there next to Johnny, and then Johnny's mother coming up after me, with
the Grizzly below to catch me when Grumpy should throw me down.
[Illustration]
The Grizzly came on, and I snapped him at forty yards, then again at
twenty yards; and still he came quietly toward me. I sat down on
the garbage and made ready. Eighteen yards--sixteen yards--twelve
yards--eight yards, and still he came, while the pitch of Johnny's
protests kept rising proportionately. Finally at five yards he stopped,
and swung his huge bearded head to one side, to see what was making that
aggravating row in the tree-top, giving me a profile view, and I snapped
the camera. At the click he turned on me with a thunderous
G--R--O--W--L!
and I sat still and trembling, wondering if my last moment had come. For
a second he glared at me and I could note the little green electric
lamp in each of his eyes. Then he slowly turned and picked up--a large
tomato-can.
"Goodness!" I thought, "is he going to throw that at me?" But he
deliberately licked it out, dropped it, and took another, paying
thenceforth no heed whatever either to me or to Johnny, evidently
considering us equally beneath his notice.
I backed slowly and respectfully out of his royal presence, leaving him
in possession of the garbage, while Johnny kept on caterwauling from his
safety-perch.
What became of Grumpy the rest of that day I do not know. Johnny, after
bewailing for a time, realized that there was no sympathetic hearer of
his cries, and therefore very sagaciously stopped them. Having no mother
now to plan for him, he began to plan for himself, and at once proved
that he was better stuff than he seemed. After watching with a look of
profound cunning on his little black face, and waiting till the Grizzly
was some distance away, he silently slipped down behind the trunk, and,
despite his three-leggedness, ran like a hare to the next tree, never
stopping to breathe till he was on its topmost bough. For he was
thoroughly convinced that the only object that the Grizzly had in life
was to kill him, and he seemed quite aware that his enemy could not
climb a tree.
Another long and safe survey of the Grizzly, who really paid no heed to
him whatever, was followed by another dash for the next tree, varied
occasionally by a cunning feint to mislead the foe. So he went dashing
from tree to tree and climbing each to its very top,--although it might
be but ten feet from the last, till he disappeared in the woods. After,
perhaps, ten minutes, his voice again came floating on the breeze, the
habitual querulous whining which told me he had found his mother and had
resumed his customary appeal to her sympathy.