Black Bruin: The Biography of a Bear

by Anna Sewell

  CHAPTER IV

  THE CUBHOOD OF BLACK BRUIN

  For several weeks the furry, fuzzy little bear in the box behind thekitchen stove did little but drink milk and sleep. If he did crawl outof his box on to the floor, it was simply to investigate thesurroundings, and he would go about the room, poking his nose into allthe corners, and sniffing suspiciously.

  But by degrees as he grew stronger and sturdier he evinced muchcuriosity, playfulness and drollery, and to these characteristics wouldhave to be added, when he became partly grown, a kind of bear sense ofhumor which was quite ludicrous.

  His first playfellow was the pillow which he tumbled off the sofa oneday. Having discovered that it was detachable, he always made for itas soon as the spirit of play seized him. He would toss and tumble itabout, now standing it upon end and batting it over with his paw andthen rolling it over and over on the floor.

  The second object in the room that claimed his lasting attention waspussy, but she was much more animated than the sofa-pillow. The firsttime that the fuzzy little cub went up and smelted of her, she gave hima savage cuff on the nose, which sent him whining to his box, and hedid not seek further acquaintance with pussy for several days.

  He would stand and look at her for five minutes at a time. This madethe cat very uneasy, and she would go about from place to place, tryingto get away from those small, bright, inquiring eyes. At last the cubagain got up courage to sniff at the old cat, and this time she did notcuff him.

  As long as he was respectful, she did not mind him, but when he got tooplayful or subjected her to indignities, pussy retaliated with thatsharp cuff on the nose, which always had the desired effect.

  Black Bruin, or Whiney, as he was sometimes called when he was a smallcub, soon learned to make his wants known. When he wished either milkor water, he would set up the most comical little whine, which wasalways effectual in getting it for him. One day he was given a saucerwhich had a little maple syrup in it, and his delight knew no bounds.After that he whined so long and frequently for syrup that he receivedhis nickname of Whiney.

  In the cool April evenings as they sat about the fire, the master wouldoften lift the small bear upon his knee, and let him sniff about hisclothing, and lick his hand with his long, narrow red tongue. Then hewould roll and tumble him about and Black Bruin would make believe tobite at his master and chew at his sleeves. Finally, these eveningromps got to be a regular part of the farm-life, as much enjoyed by themaster, as by the cub.

  When May came, and it was warmer, so that the doors leading to thewood-shed and the porch were left open, the little bear's world grewapace. Before, his horizon had been the four walls of the kitchen; nowhe could go and come as he pleased, about the yard and in theoutbuildings.

  He made the acquaintance of Hecla, the old hound, while he was still aprisoner in the kitchen, but they came to know each other better whenthe cub got out of doors. At first, the dog was inclined to attack thesmall bundle of bear-meat, but her master calmed her anger, andexplained to her, as best he could, that Black Bruin was one of thefamily and should be treated with respect and consideration. Sofinally she became reconciled to his presence, but she never could getover his scent, which always filled her with suspicion.

  When the cub got out of doors where he could run about and exercise, hebegan to grow very rapidly in stature. Before, he had been a footballor a bundle of fur, but now he began to put on the semblance of a bear.

  He also developed a great genius for mischief. If I should tell of allthe things he overturned or upset, this chapter would be endless.

  A naturalist, who has reared several bear-cubs, says, "If you have anenemy, give him a bear-cub. His punishment will be adequate, no matterwhat his offense." But the young farmer and his wife did not think so,and as for the baby who was now learning to walk, "Bar-Bar," as hecalled the young bruin, was a never-ending source of delight.

  He would bury his wee hands in the fuzzy hair of the cub and pull withall his might, and the cub would growl with make-believe fury, but itseemed to know that the baby did not intend to hurt it, and did notoffer to bite. When the baby pulled its ears too hard, it would simplyrun away.

  Outside, in the farmyard, among the chickens, turkeys, ducks, andgeese, at first the cub was rather shy, for the gobbler turkey, thegander and the rooster all set upon him and drove him whining into thewoodshed; but he soon learned that all were afraid of his paws, when hestood upon his hind legs and really hit out with them, so after thatdiscovery, he was master of all the feathered folk about the farmhouse.

  All about the farm-buildings the little bear followed his master. Butbest of all he liked to go to the stable and watch the milking, for inone corner was a small dish, into which he knew a pint of warm milkwould be poured as soon as milking was done.

  One morning the farmer heard a great noise in the hen-house. The henswere kedacuting for dear life and he hastened to the scene of thedisturbance. What he discovered was both ludicrous and annoying, forthere by one of the nests was his small bear in the act of pawing outan egg, while the empty shell of another upon the ground told only tooplainly that he had discovered the use of eggs.

  After that the hen-house was never quite safe from him. Whenever hewas caught inside, he was punished, but hens' nests that he foundout-of-doors were considered his natural plunder.

  June came, and the latter part of the month the bear-shadow followedits master into the hayfield. Here it made a discovery that was muchto its liking.

  The bear was sniffing about as usual, poking his nose into all theholes and bushes, when a low humming in the grass near by caught hisear.

  It was a sound that has made bears smile ever since the first bearlicked up his first taste of honey. So Black Bruin crept cautiouslyforward to investigate. As he advanced, the humming grew louder andpresently a small fury darted out at him.

  It was not much larger than a fly, but it gave him such a pin-prick inthe nose that he was angry, and so struck it down into the grass, andcrushed the life out of it with his swift paw. Then he crept closer tothe humming and buzzing, which was now quite ominous. Soon more of thelittle furies came buzzing out, all of which he killed as he had thefirst.

  When the bee-hunter had crushed the dozen bees comprising the nest, hedug down to the secret hidden in the roots of the grass and found thatit was much sweeter than the maple syrup which they had given him atthe farmhouse. The nest was also full of white eggs or grubs whichwere quite palatable. After that day, Black Bruin was a persistenthunter for bumblebees' nests.

  From the bumblebees' nest to the hives of the honeybees in the orchardback of the house was a very natural step, but the farmer had notdreamed that the bear would discover the secret of the small whitehouses.

  One afternoon he heard a great humming of the bees in the orchard, and,thinking they were swarming, put on his bee-veil and went toinvestigate. The sight that met his eyes filled him with both mirthand wrath. There upon the ground was one of the hives overturned andpulled apart. Many of the partly filled sections were thus exposed,while others were empty of both comb and honey.

  The thief, who was none other than Black Bruin, was holding up asection between his paws, while with his supple red tongue he lickedout the contents. Although the bees were swarming about him in a blackcloud and doing their best to punish the thief, he paid littleattention to them but licked away for dear life.

  Upon his droll countenance was a look of such supreme delight, that theangry farmer ended by laughing heartily; but after that experience hesurrounded the beehives with a stout barbed wire fence.

  About the middle of July, or perhaps a little later, a neighbor'schildren took Black Bruin to the blueberry lot.

  They had often romped and played with him, and he was glad to go,although he could not be coaxed to follow a stranger. He shuffledalong in his droll bear manner, often stopping to sniff under a stoneor in some corner, where his wild instinct told him that there might besomething interesting.<
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  Arrived at the berry-field, the children began picking and for a timeBruin sat upon his haunches and watched them, his red tongue lollingout, for it was a hot mid-summer day.

  Finally, one of the children picked a handful of berries and offeredthem to their four-footed companion, thinking it would be a good jokeupon him. To their surprise, he not only lapped up the berries withkeen satisfaction, but asked in plain bear language for more.

  He was so much pleased with the flavor of the new food that he finallyput his long red tongue into their pails, and they had to box his earsseverely. Then he went and sat down a little way off, seemingly muchabused.

  Soon the children heard a noise in a bush near by, as if some one waspicking, so they went to investigate. They found Black Bruin standingupon his hind legs, while with both paws and his long tongue he scoopedthe blueberries into his wide-open mouth. He was bending and thrashingthe bush about to get it where he wanted it, and did not see that hewas observed. Upon his droll bear face was written deep delight, foranother of earth's riches had yielded to his inquisitive nose and paws.

  After that he was often one of the party when the children wentberrying, but if the berries were scarce they preferred to leave him athome. He was quite independent, however, and often went berrying byhimself.

  Blackberries he managed in the same manner, but when the thorns prickedhis tongue, he would growl and look astonished, as much as to say, "Nowwhat does that mean? I didn't see a bee about."

  Black Bruin also made other interesting discoveries in the pasture.One day, either by chance or design, he turned over a small rotten logand found that on the under side it was swarming with ants and grubs.Then how his tongue did fly as he licked them up and how the antsscampered in every direction trying to hide before he should get them!

  But ants and grubs were not the only game under the logs. One day whenhe had turned over a larger log than usual, he was astonished to see atiny four-footed creature run squeaking out. Black Bruin hoppedclumsily after the field-mouse. Pat, pat went his heavy paws, but themouse ran this way and that, dodging and squeaking, and several timeshe missed, although by this time he was quite expert with his paws.Finally he landed fairly upon the poor mouse, and its life was crushedout. Then he swooped it into his hungry mouth, and found it muchbetter than grubs and ants. After that, whenever a mouse ran out fromunder a log or stone that he overturned, he made a desperate effort toget it.

  One day while sniffing about a hollow log, as was his wont, the beardiscovered still a new scent that was neither grubs, ants norfield-mice, so he began tearing the log apart, for it was quite rotten.

  He had been at work but a few minutes, when with a great chipping asmall striped animal, several times larger than the field-mouse, ranbetween his legs and scurried away in the grass. Although muchastonished, the bear hurried in hot pursuit. This little creature,like the mouse, ran hither and thither, dodging and twisting. Finallyafter several misses, he landed his paw squarely upon it and the hunterhad bagged his first chipmunk.

  The Bear Hurried in Hot Pursuit]

  This game was so much larger than the field-mouse that he thought itwell worth while, and after that whenever he scented a chipmunk about alog or stone wall, he would spend an hour, if need be, until he wassatisfied that he could not get at it.

  Finally the summer passed and the autumn came, and the bear-cubfollowed the children to the woods for chestnuts, beech-nuts andwalnuts.

  He, too, learned the secret of the sweet meat under the hard exterior.Beechnuts he would discover and eat by himself, but walnuts andbutternuts he could not crack, and as for chestnuts, he wanted themtaken out of their prickly jackets before he could eat them. Here inthe deep woods the bear also discovered several roots which were to hisliking, so he was always nosing about in the dead leaves, for if hedidn't find nuts, he would find roots.

  Thus passed the cubhood of Black Bruin, and, from a fuzzy mite, whiningfor his saucer of milk, he grew into a sturdy cub, strong andself-reliant, able to forage and hunt for himself.

  Without training from any parent, he learned some of the things that itwas necessary for him to know in the fields and forest. Thus theinstinct of his bear ancestors asserted its power in the pampered andspoiled pet of the farmhouse, and if he had chosen, he could probablyhave taken care of himself as a real wild bear. But he did not care todo so, although he had every chance to run away; there was somethingalways calling to him at the farmhouse.

  The people there had been good to him. In the wood-shed was his nest,and no matter how far away he roamed during the daytime, night alwaysfound him back at the house, begging for milk, and taking caresses atthe farmer's hands.

  These good people had been so large a part of his helpless days that hecould not leave them now, although the deep green depths of the woodswere probably calling to him, as this was his natural home.