Once I spent half an hour lying at the edge of a wood and looking at a black bear some three hundred yards off across an open glade.

It was in good stalking country, but the wind was unfavorable and I waited for it to shift--waited too long as it proved, for something frightened the beast and he made off before I could get a shot at him.

When I first saw him he was shuffling along and rooting in the ground, so that he looked like a great pig.

Then he began to turn over the stones and logs to hunt for insects, small reptiles, and the like.

A moderate-sized stone he would turn over with a single clap of his paw, and then plunge his nose down into the hollow to gobble up the small creatures beneath while still dazed by the light.