grizzly’s mountain home. These reach food-supply centres, lookout and resting stations, swimming-holes, and other places often visited. Generally when going anywhere the grizzly follows a trail; if pursued, he is most certain to do so. Many of these trails are dim, but others are deeply worn. He may sometimes make a new trail, but in general he follows the old ones which have been used by generations of bears. His domain may be crossed by other wild-life trails, which he may or may not use.

Topography, mountain barriers, streams, or other natural boundary-lines in part determine the form of the grizzly’s home territory. The size is determined by the food-supply, by the bear population of the region, and by individual prowess. A bear of exceptional prowess may hold an empire.

The territory dominated by old “Timberline” had an area of about eighty square miles. The western boundary-line followed the rim of the Continental Divide for nearly fifteen miles. Meeker Ridge and Cony Creek were other boundary-lines, while at the north stood Chief’s Head Mountain and Long’s Peak. Toward the south the territory narrowed and was not more than two miles across; in the centre it must have been nearly ten miles wide. An extensive area lay above the timber-line. There were forests primeval, a number of cañons and streams, numerous small lakes and beaver ponds. In this varied and extensive region old "Timberline" had all the necessities of life and many of the luxuries of beardom.

The claw-marks and the tooth-marks which grizzlies and some other animals place on trees are often interpreted as being “No Trespass” signs, indications of boundary-lines, survey marks, or the seal of ownership of the landlord. If these marks are extremely high, they are supposed to inspire respect for the one occupying the region, or to cause terror to the invader, unless he be large enough to reach higher. But I question any such significance attached to these marks. Ofttimes the bear leaves these marks in the centre of his home range, sometimes within the home territory of a lion or a big-horn. While the idea of its being a mark of ownership is a most artistic and entertaining one, it does not appear to have any natural-history value.

I have seen bears, reaching high, tear out pieces of bark, and have also seen both bears and lions put claw-marks upon trees. Generally this clawing and biting was done during languid and leisurely moments when there was nothing definite to do. One day I watched a grizzly stand on hind feet upon a five-foot snowdrift where he had been lying. Placing his front paws against a spruce as high as he could reach, he clawed the bark indifferently. It was more of a muscle-stretching performance than anything else. He took a tiny bite out of the tree and walked off with the strip of bark in his mouth. Then he gave it a playful shake and dropped it.

It is well known that wolves, beavers, and some other animals have information places. These may or may not be intentionally established. Some of these places are where wild-life trails cross, or are near water-holes, salt-licks, play places, or some neutral feeding-ground. They may be frequented exclusively by one species or by several. Even the casual visits and bark-biting of bears incidentally contribute something of interest to the next visitors. In these places an animal may learn of the recent visit of one of his species or of a dreaded enemy, or may even find information as to the sex of the visitors. They are thus akin to country cross-roads where gossip is exchanged concerning human affairs.

A grizzly that I was trailing turned abruptly aside to visit a news station of this kind. Plainly it was a loafing or frequented spot for wild life; from the nature of the topography and from numerous tracks seen during later visits I learned that it was a stamping-ground and a trail-crossing. Foxes, coyotes, skunks, rats, deer, and mountain sheep had been visitors. The manner in which the bear turned aside to visit the place suggested that he had been there before; but he may just have caught interesting, newsy scent which attracted him there for the first time. His actions were those of one who is hunting for news.

At night the bear may lie down in almost any place, but during the daytime he selects one of the safest places in his realm. If in the high mountains this may be on a ridge above the timber-line, or on a treeless hilltop from which he commands a wide outlook, or in the end of a cañon, or in a thicket. Wherever the place, it is one where the bear cannot be easily surprised, and where his scouts—his scent, his sight, and his ears—would easily warn him of the approach of any possible danger.

When pursued, the grizzly tries to keep within his domain. Usually he travels only seven or eight miles in one direction, then doubles back, circles, and zigzags. Only two or three times when trailing the bear have I known him to travel more than fourteen or fifteen miles in one direction. In one long trailing experience I observed that the bear, with many twists and zigzags, covered his domain practically twice over. I trailed the same grizzly two Septembers, three years apart. I started him the second time near the place where I had started him before, and he followed for three days over almost exactly the same route taken the first time.

Three prospectors and I were rowing across a lake in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho. When about half a mile from the farther shore, we spied a grizzly swimming across. We pursued, and when we got near, one of the men proposed to rope him, saying that the bear could now tow us ashore. The other two protested so vigorously that the rope was not thrown. Fortunate for us that it was not, for had it fallen over the neck of Mr. Grizzly, the chances are that he might have climbed into the boat. In Alaska I saw a grizzly out at sea, swimming vigorously along between two islands that were seven miles apart. The grizzly is fond of water, is an excellent and enduring swimmer, and in the water fights effectively.

While I was on a winter trip into the San Juan Mountains a prospector told me of an occurrence which he had just witnessed. A snow-slide crashing down into a gulch close to a grizzly den aroused the bear, who came out with a rush to see what was going on. He did not lose his head, but looked about until the air cleared of the swirling snow-dust. Then he walked round the wreckage brought down by the slide and finally climbed it and explored the opening it had smashed through the woods. After being out more than an hour he re-entered the den.

Though living a solitary life in the seclusion of the wilderness, this bear was again routed out before spring. His den was only a few feet above the stream, on the mountain-side. The débris brought down by the snow-slide forty or fifty feet up the gulch dammed the stream and raised the water so that it leaked through the earth into the den. Again driven forth from his den, the bear—so his tracks in the snow showed—after one pause climbed to another den on the mountain-side about two miles distant.

The grizzly spends about one third of each year in hibernation. He may use the same den year after year, repairing and reshaping it; or perhaps he will dig a new one. Sometimes he goes outside his own territory for a den to his liking. He is sometimes driven forth during hibernation by landslides as well as by snow-slides and floods.

A grizzly is strongly attached to his home territory and spends most of his time in it. Occasionally, and in exceptional cases regularly, he wanders far away. A scarcity of food may cause him to leave home temporarily; or excessive food