There is always a touch of the comic, as well as a touch of
the strong and terrible, in a bear's look and actions. It will tug and
pull, now with one paw, now with two, now on all fours, now on its
hind legs, in the effort to turn over a large log or stone; and when it
succeeds it jumps round to thrust its muzzle into the damp hollow and
lap up the affrighted mice or beetles while they are still paralyzed by
the sudden exposure.
The true time of plenty for bears is the berry season. Then they feast
ravenously on huckleberries, blueberries, kinnikinnic berries, buffalo
berries, wild plums, elderberries, and scores of other fruits. They
often smash all the bushes in a berry patch, gathering the fruit with
half-luxurious, half-laborious greed, sitting on their haunches, and
sweeping the berries into their mouths with dexterous paws. So absorbed
do they become in their feasts on the luscious fruit that they grow
reckless of their safety, and feed in broad daylight, almost at midday;
while in some of the thickets, especially those of the mountain
haws, they make so much noise in smashing the branches that it is a
comparatively easy matter to approach them unheard.
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