"Don't black bears sleep through the winter?" questioned the writer of an attendant who was dealing out mid-day rations of bread and milk at the park.
"That's the general impression," was the rejoinder, "but we have never noticed any attempts at hibernation here. Bears are unusually lively during the cold months, and demand their food as regularly as do the lions and other feline animals. I don't know that any observations of value on this question have ever been made on animals in confinement. I have had some experience with outside animals, and a great many go through what is called a winter's sleep; and in warm countries there is what might be called a summer sleep. Bears begin in the fall to look out for a soft nest; and if it's possible for them to eat more at one time than another they do it then, and when the cold weather sets in they are fat and in prime condition. According to some authorities, the fat produces the carbon that in some way tends to induce somnolency. The stomach of a bear at this time becomes empty, and naturally shrivels or draws into a very small space, and is rendered totally useless by a substance called 'tappen' that clogs it and the intestines; this is formed of pine leaves and other material that the animal takes from ants' nest and the trunks of trees in its search after honey. They lie asleep in this condition for about six months, generally snowed in; but you can tell the place, as the heat of the bear, what there is left, keeps an air hole up through the snow. The bear seems to live on its fat, the tappen preventing its too rapid consumption; and if you run across them during this time--even along in March just before they wake up--they are about as fat as when they went in. I have taken a slice of fat from a black bear six inches thick--regular blubber. I remember," continued the man, "one winter I was 'log hauling' in the western part of this State. We had our eyes on a big tree, and one morning when it was about ten degrees below zero I tackled it to warm up. I hammered away for about five hours at it and finally started her, and over she came--slowly at first, and then as if she was going right through. The snow was nearly three feet deep, and as the tree struck it flew up for about twenty feet and half blinded me, and when I came to there was the biggest black bear I ever saw standing along side of me, looking about as mixed as I did. I had lost my ax, and the first move I made she started, and on taking a look I found that she had a nest in the trunk and had probably turned in for the winter. It was about twenty feet from the ground, and was built with moss, leaves, and all kinds of truck, and as warm and as snug as you please--a good place to spend a winter in."