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

"Open her door, a foot only, and let her put her head out. Keep him away." The female bear had not the slightest fear or premonition of danger. Thrusting her head through the narrow opening, she looked upon the world and the open sky above, and found that it was good. She struggled to force the door open wider; and the male stood back, waiting. "Let her go!" Forcing the door back with her own eager strength, she fearlessly dropped the intervening eighteen inches to the floor of the den, and was free. The very next second the male flung his great bulk upon her, and the tragedy was on. I would not for five thousand dollars see such a thing again. A hundred times in the twenty minutes that followed I bitterly regretted my folly in acting contrary to my own carefully formed conclusions regarding the temper, the strength, and the mental processes of that male bear. He never left her alone for ten seconds, save when, at five or six different times, we beat him off by literally ramming him away. When she first fell, the slope of the floor brought her near the cage bars, which gave us a chance to fight for her. We beat him over the head; we drove big steel spikes into him; and we rammed him with planks, not caring how many bones we might break. But each time that we beat him off, and the poor harried female rose to her feet, he flung himself upon her anew, crushed her down upon the snow, and fought to reach her throat!