Bear Stories 3

One of our local historical “legends” was a man named “Bear George” McClellan. He lived not far from my house which means in his written stories, I can recognize many of the places he talks about. I was recently given copies of his obituary and remembrances of him. I also have copies of some of the articles he wrote for popular magazines of his day. Some stories seem to have been bound together in some sort of book owned by Mrs. J. H. Tully, of another local pioneering family. Since Bear George died 88 years ago, I believe these stories are all out in the public domain since the 75 year limit has been reached. If you are sensitive to the wording of the days in which he lived, or if you do not care for hunting stories, or if you don’t appreciate a wry story teller, you may want to avoid these tales of Wyoming in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. It was still a wild and wooly place and Bear George led an adventurous life. Please, let me introduce Bear George McClellan.

”A Red Letter Day With Grizzlies”

On the morning of October 18, 1890 in company with a friend from California, I left the ranch to try for a deer. There had been a light fall of snow during the night, so we counted on being able to strike a fresh trail and get a buck without much trouble, as there are plenty of deer in the foothills of the Bighorn range, 3 or 4 miles East of the ranch. We had gone only a mile when I struck a big trail in the snow. At first I took it for a cow track, and did not notice it until on crossing it I saw it was different. Then I said:

”This cow has no horns.”

I dismounted, made a close examination, and found that an old bear and a cub had passed only a few hours ahead of us. I asked my friend how he would like to change from a deer hunt to a bear hunt. He said a deer hunt was good enough for him; but if I wanted to follow the bear he would go along and help what he could.

We had to leave our horses where we struck the trail, for we were in a small canyon, which was steep and rough. We looked the ground over carefully, for we were not sure but the bears might be in the same canyon, and we didn’t want to disturb them too soon.

We followed on down a mile or so to where the trail turned to the right, crossed the little creek and led into a thick clump of junipers and rocks, on a North hillside, which is a favorite place for a bear to lie.

By this time I had found the bears were silver tips. This was more interesting. I pushed into the thicket noiselessly, followed by my companion, who seemed to be losing interest in the hunt. We followed slowly until I could see that the trail led out of the juniper thicket and on up the opposite hill. Then we went briskly until we came to where the bears had gone up through a narrow cleft in the wall of a canyon, at the top of which I knew there was an old bear den, under a large shelving rock.

We tried to get up on either side of the trail, but could not make it. I finally said to my pard that he should, by my assistance, try to climb up through the steep and narrow trail the bear had used.

”No,” said he: “if it’s all the same, I’d rather you would go first. I don’t need any help.”

I made up my mind this was the shortest way out of it, or rather into it. I looked at my Savage, found it was ready for business, and started. It was a hard climb for about 20 feet, then there was a little offset in the rock, from which I could see into the bear den. I landed on this, looked cautiously into the den, and was relieved to find it empty. The trail led across a high bold ridge over to the next canyon, and as soon as my companion gained the top we started out a brisk walk, which we kept up for a mile or so. Then pard said he could not go any farther at that pace. I told him the bears were evidently going somewhere, and the trail was likely to be a long one. He said he would go back if I would show him the way. I showed him a certain ridge on which there was a wagon road which led to the ranch, and told him when he got there to send one of the boys out with the dogs.

(to be continued)