The following story is taken from James H. Cook's book Fifty Years on the Old Frontier and demonstrates Cook's zest for life. He told this story to his children and grandchildren and which are an important part of his book. There are three stories in his book: Ned, a cub bear which became a part of Philadelphia's zoo (Fairmont Park). Cook's rememberance of a close encounter with a large grizzly whos hide and carcass netted Cook $50.00 (a large sum of money in 1880) and a hunting trip hosted by Cook for the benefit of Englishmen seeking the experience of grizzly hunting.
The story of Ned as told by Jim Cook.
"During the year 1882, while acting as manager of H.C Wilson's cattle ranch in southwestern New Mexico, I was out on the range one day with some of my cowboys. While going through a little bushy canon, we came across a grizzly bear cub about three months old. After some scrambling among the live-oak trees and shrubs we succeeded in getting the cub out into open ground, and lassoed him. He was a little fighter, but we soon had him hog-tied and muzzled. I had one of the men carry the little beast on his horse to the headquarters ranch, where he was soon chained to a post. The cub soon became a great pet, but as he grew older we found that he was not exactly a plaything. Ned, as we called him, was always creating a disturbance somewhere.
One time one of the men was standing in the corral where the bear was tied. He walked up to the animal for a close examination. Ned was lying down, seemingly asleep, but when the man turned his back, the bear suddenly jumped and caught the fellow through the calf of the leg. He had presence of mind enough not to attempt to tear loose, else the bear would certainly have ripped some of the muscles of his leg. Other men came to his aid, and with pitchforks the bear was made to release his hold.
Once he came near catching me. I heard the cook, down at the men's house, calling loudly. He was alone, the riders all being out on the range. I ran down, whereupon the cook yelled for me to look out -- that Ned had broken his chain and was running amuck. The bear had located the swill barrel and partially upset it. He was busy; fishing some choice bits from the bottom of the barrel as I appeared on the scene. I ran to the stable for a rope, thinking to slip up while the animal had his head in the barrel and tie it to the piece of chain which hung from his collar. Just as I succeeded in doing this, the bear backed suddenly out and catching sight of me, evidently decided to add one more variety of meat to his bill of fare. He made for me in short order, and I turned to run. The woodpile was near, and once on top of it, I thought I should be safe. Catching sight of an old axe handle on the ground, I stooped to pick it up. As I grasped it I saw that there was not time to escape; so I turned to face Ned. I struck at him with all my might, and luck was with me, for the heavy axe handle caught the bear squarely between the ears and stiffened him out in a hurry. I thought I had killed him. I called the cook to help me, and we dragged the animal to the post and secured him. We then stood back to watch him. Shortly he came to. He was very groggy on his legs for a time, but he recovered from the blow and, to judge from his actions, had more respect for me after that.
When Ned was about two years old, Professor Cope of Phaladelphia was stopping with me while making a geological survey of that section of the country. One day he asked what I intended to do with the bear. I replied that I should probably continue to harbor him until he killed somebody, and then I should have to shoot him. H asked if I would not like to present Ned to the Zoological Society of Philadelphia. I said I should be glad to do so if the Society wanted him. A few weeks after the Professor had returned home, I received a letter from the secretary, accepting my present and thanking me for the bear. The letter also stated that the Society had made arrangements with the express company to take Ned through to Philadelphia.
Our ranch was eighty miles from Silver City, the nearest railroad point and express office. How to get Ned to Silver City was the problem confronting me now. The road over the mountains was little more than an old Indian trail, which could be followed with wagons, provided the horses were strong and quiet and the driver was a man who undestood his business. I finally concluded that the only way to convey the bear to the railroad in good shape was to crate him. I sent to the mining town of Cooney, in the Mogollon Mountains, and had a blacksmith and wagon-maker build a large, strong box, bound with iron, with a drop door in each end, and made just large enough to fit inside an ordinary wagon box. The box being finished and delivered, the next question was to get Ned inside.
To digress for a moment: When Ned was a little fellow, I went one day to the spot where he was tied. He was lying stretched out at full length, and I thought I should be safe in patting him on the head. He lay with his head on his paws, but his wicked little eyes were following my every move. Placing my hand on his head, I began stroking him. After a bit I grew more confident and put my other hand within his reach. Quickly he grabbed for it like a flash. One claw caught on the ring on my finger, and he jerked my hand toward him and tried to bite it. I pulled back with all my might, but the bear, now furious, rose to his hind legs. Hardly knowing what I was doing, I gave him a tremondous kick in the stomach that doubled him up in a hurry. He released his hold and became deathly sick. Ever afterward, when I came near and he happened to be in a playful mood, dancing around on his hind legs on the end of his chain, I got as close as possible to his circle and, watching my chance, made a move as if I were going to catch him by the top of the head; then suddenly I seized his lower jaw with my right hand and drew back my foot as if to kick him again. He seemed to grasp the situation, and as long as I retained my hold on his lower jaw and kept him standing he did not try to harm me. When I got him to the end of his chain and I let go, he became very angry, racing around and tugging at the chain in his efforts to get at me.
When it came to getting Ned into the box, I wondered if my kick trick would not help us without getting the bear excited and angry by too much rough handling, as another method would. I had the box placed near him on the ground. We then passed a long lasso through both doorways, propping up the doors so that we could drop them quickly. Ned watched these operations closely. Having just eaten a hearty meal, he was in a very good humor.
I then had ten of the cowboys get hold of one end of the lasso. Taking the other end, I went near the bear's charmed circle. Ned, ready for a little fun, reared on his hind legs and began a little sun dance. I soon had my grip on his jaw with one hand, and with the other I tied the end of the lasso to his collar. Then, jumping back quiclky, I ordered the men to heave away, meaning, as soon as the strain came on the rope, to unfasten the chain from the post, which, acting as an anchor, would have prevented Ned from going through the box before both doors could be dropped.
But no sooner had I shouted "Heave away!" than the men gave a pull such as old-time cowboys can give. Ned's collar snapped, and the boys fell in a heap. I yelled for everyone to look out and sprang for the nearest side of the corral. Ned was no longer a sun dancer but a full-grown warrior and right on the warpath. It was a lightning transformation scene. Every man in the corral had mounted to the top board in less time than it has taken me to tell it, and Ned was in full, undisputed possession of the ground.
Just about the time everyone was scrambling for a high roost, the cook, down at the men's house, hearing the shouting and laughter, came running out to watch the fun, followed by a little black bulldog, a ranch pet with a record as a fighter. The cook rushed into the corral, closing the gate behind him, the dog running ahead. The bear happened to be at the farther side of the corral when they entered, but, seeing this new enemy, he charged at once. The cook make a very hasty retreat and would surely have been caught and roughly handled had not the bulldog tried to fasten on to Bruin at once. The dog had but a few snags of teeth and could not secure a good grip, but his attack diverted the bear's attention long enough for the cook to make his excape.
We then drove the dog out of the corral and started in to lasso the bear. We had to stand on top of the fence to throw our ropes. Several times they encircled his neck, but each time the infuriated bear grabbed at the rope with his claws and threw it off. At last, as he passed near me, I threw my rope over his head, letting him jump through it with his head and shoulders, but drawing the noose tight about his flanks. With the help of the other boys, Ned was pulled up into the air, the rope being thrown over the top rail of the fence, and trussed up until only his front feet rested on the ground. The bear roared with rage and fought savagely, but we placed another rope around his neck, and several of the men jumped down into the corral and passed the ropes through the doors of the cage, in which we soon had the bear safe. The boards were wide enough apart so that we could pull the ropes out after working them loose from the bear's body.
The blacksmith had nailed a heavy tin can in one corner of the box, into which the express officials were to put water for the bear's comfort. This can was the only thing in the box upon which the aroused and infuriated animal could wreak vengence, and he made short work of it. He tore it down, cutting his feet badly while so doing. This made him so furious that he bit himself savagely several times through the forelegs.
Having Ned safely in the box, we found it no small job to load His Bearship into the wagon, but it was soon accomplished. The man who was to drive to Silver City with the box came and hitched a team of big mules to the wagon, and everything was then ready for the start. But the moment the bear felt the wagon in motion, he let out a roar of fury. The mules stampeded at once, and away went the whole outfit, lickety-split! The faster the mules ran, the louder the bear yelled and roared. The driver, however, was cool and collected and knew his business. He headed the animals for the top of a long hill directly in front of the ranch house, and by the time the runaways reached the top, they were completely winded, and the bear had ceased to yell.
We had no further trouble getting Ned to the station and started on his long ride to Philadelphia. Shortly after the bear was received at Fairmount Park, I received a letter from the Zoological Society thanking me for the gift.
I never saw Ned after he was put aboard the cars at Silver City, but I heard from Professor Cope that he was doing nicely and growing into an immense fellow. The Zoological people had him for many years as one of the chief attractions at Fairmont Park."
***
So ends James (Jimmie) Cook's tale of Ned. I wonder how UPS, the Post Offfice or Federal Express would have handled such a friendly fellow as Ned as one of their paying customers. And, in these days when workers complain of being stressed out and over worked, how would they have responded to the cooks quandry?
You may wonder how Cook was able to control the bear by grabbing him by the muzzle. Actually it is a bit of knowing about wild animals. Unlike the human animal, wild ones have a rather common course of action when caught by another dominant animal. Rather than fighting back or struggling, the lesser animal becomes quite. Note how a kitten or a pup goes limp when the mother grasp it. Or a dog will turn over on its back when it is cowed by another. Cook seems to have known this as did the cowboy who was caught by the leg by Ned. This is something that we need to teach our children, it may save their life. In fact, park rangers now advise campers, hunters and the like that if they are about to be attacked by a grizzly, it is best to be submissive, lie on your stomach and cover your head with your hands. Hopefully the bear will decide not to eat you!
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