The Minds and Manners of Wild Animals: A Book of Personal Observations

Now, in grooming a herd of bears, a hickory pick-handle leaves no room for argument. If it hits, it hurts. If it does not hit a bear, it strikes the concrete floor or the rocks with a resound and a rebound that frightens the boldest bear almost as much as being hit. So the bear herd wisely climbs up to the first balcony and sits down to wait. No bear ever leaps down to attack a keeper. The distance and the jolt are not pleasant; and whenever a bear grows weary and essays to climb down, he is sternly ordered back. The keepers are forbidden to permit any familiarities on the part of their bears. All the bears, save one, that have come to us fully grown, and savage, have been managed by other methods, involving shifting cages. On two occasions only have any of our keepers been badly bitten in our bear dens. Both attacks were due to over-trustfulness of "petted" bears, and to direct disobedience of fixed orders. From the very beginning I laid down this law for our keepers, and have repeated it from year to year. "Make no pets of animals large enough to become dangerous. Make every animal understand and admit day by day that you are absolute master, that it has got to obey, and that if it disobeys, or attacks you, you will kill it!" Familiarity with a dangerous wild animal usually breeds contempt and attack. Timidity is so fatal that none but courageous and determined men should be chosen, or be permitted, to take care of dangerous animals.