The bear stood at the edge of the stream, apparently about to wade in
after a few salmon that were fighting their way upward across the
shallows to a spawning ground. If you have ever read A. A. Milne's story
about Christopher Robin and Winnie-the- Pooh, you can picture for
yourself this comical creature as he tried to make up his mind whether
to run at us or away from us. His front legs seemed to want to go down
stream towards the photographers, and his back legs seemed to want to
retreat.
The bear stood at the edge of the stream, apparently about to wade in after a few salmon that were fighting their way upward across the shallows to a spawning ground. If you have ever read A. A. Milne's story about Christopher Robin and Winnie-the- Pooh, you can picture for yourself this comical creature as he tried to make up his mind whether to run at us or away from us. His front legs seemed to want to go down stream towards the photographers, and his back legs seemed to want to retreat. Whenever a movie camera buzzed, the hind legs won out and Pooh-bear darted back. When the buzzing stopped, Pooh-bear quite evidently said to himself, "Now I will be brave and bluff these humans."
He would make about three steps forward and then that buzzing camera grated on his nerves again. For several moments these ridiculous antics lasted; then the hind legs won the battle, and Pooh-bear bounded up the bank to the safety of the bend, about 100 yards distant, facing the rushing current. Our guide spoke in a low tone, "Watch him! There are a lot of fish in that pool, and he is going to catch one!" The sound of the human voice disturbed the bear not a bit. The great creature took a nonchalant step or two up stream, abruptly wheeled in his tracks, and dashed down the riffle where the giant dog salmon were spawning. The bear caught one salmon under his paw, while the other fish splashed away in terror. A moment later he put down his head and lifted it with the struggling creature in his mouth, then strolled casually into the brush to finish his meal.
Perhaps three or four minutes passed. Once more he came out of the thicket and sauntered up stream on the opposite side from the blind. My camera was buzzing continuously, but I held fire with the focus set at fifty feet, to be ready for emergencies should the animal come closer. The grizzly could see the photographers now, but refused to be disconcerted. Straight on he came at a leisurely gait, while I shot foot after foot, and our guide went through strange contortions, trying to sight my still camera. This was no Pooh-bear. The guide estimated, in a whisper, that his skin would measure ten feet. Although brown, he was more like a Montana grizzly, with a long, ugly nose and a disagreeable expression, and lacking only the marked hump on his shoulders.
He was so full of fish that his belly almost dragged. It was apparent that he resented the camera, but was just too full to do anything about it. On he stalked to a point fifty feet from our blind, and then swept off the stage to the tune of buzzing cameras, headed, as our told us, for the mountains to sleep off the results of his gluttony.
