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In the Garhwal Himalayas, the bears descend to lower altitudes in winter, in search of food. They are short-sighted and suspicious and very inquisitive. An encounter with a bear is a fascinating experience.
Most of the villages of the Garhwal Himalayas are in the valleys, where there are rivers or streams, a little soil deep enough for growing things, and protection from the biting winds that come down from the mountain-passes in winter. The houses are usually made of rough boulders and stones, with sloping slate roofs off which the heavy monsoon rains can run easily. During the autumn months, the roofs are often covered with pumpkins, left there to ripen in the sun.
One October night, when I was sleeping in a friend�s house in the village of Deolsari, I was woken by a rumbling and thumping of the roof. I woke my friend and asked him what was happening.
�It�s only a bear,� he said.
�Is it trying to get in?� I asked
�No, it�s after the pumpkins.�
And a little later, when we looked out of the small window, we saw a black bear hugging a pumpkin and making off through the fields like a thief in the night-which is just what it was!
In winter, when snow covers the higher ranges, the brown and black Himalayan bears descend to lower altitudes in search of food. Sometimes they forage in fields. As they are short-sighted and suspicious of anything that moves, they can be dangerous; but like most wild animals, they will avoid men if they can, and are aggressive only when accompanied by their cubs.
People in the villages always advise me to run downhill if chased by a bear. They say that bears find it easier to run uphill than downhill. I have yet to be chased by a bear, but I have seen a few, and they are fascinating animals to watch.
Himalayan bears like pumpkins, maize, plums and apricots-and, of course, honey! Once, while I was sitting in a spruce tree, hoping to see a pair of pine martens that lives nearby, I heard the whining grumble of a bear, and presently a small bear ambled into the clearing beneath the tree.
He was little more than a cub, and I was not alarmed. But I sat very still, waiting to see what he would do.
At first, he put his nose to the ground and sniffed his way along until he came to a large anthill. Here he began huffing and puffing, blowing rapidly in and out of his nostrils, so that the dust from the anthill flew in all directions. But he was a disappointed bear, because the anthill had been deserted long ago. And so, grumbling, he made his way to a wild plum tree, and shinning rapidly up the smooth trunk, was soon perched on the topmost branches. It was only then that he saw me.
The bear at once scrambled several feet higher up the tree and laid himself out flat on a branch. As it wasn�t a very thick branch, it left a large expanse of bear showing on either side. He tucked his head away behind another branch; and, so long as he could not see me, was well satisfied that he was completely hidden, although he couldn�t help grumbling with anxiety.
But, like all bears, he was full of curiosity. And slowly, inch peared over the edge of the branch. As son as his eyes met mine, he drew his head back with a jerk and hid his face.
The young bear did this several times. I waited until he wasn�t looking then moved some way down the tree. When the bear looked up again and saw that I was missing, he was so pleased that he stretched right across to another branch and helped himself to a plum. At that, I couldn�t help bursting into laughter.
The startled young bear tumbled out of the tree, dropped through the branches for some fifteen feet, and landed with a thud in a heap of dry leaves. He was not hurt, but he ran from the clearing, grunting and squealing with fright.
This inquisitive streak in bears was revealed on another occasion. I had heard that one had been destructive in a field of maize, so my friend and I sat up for it at night. We took up our position on high promontory of rock, which gave us a clear view of the moonlit field.
A little after midnight, a bear came down to the edge of the field, but he was suspicious and probably smelt that men had been about the place very recently. He was, however, hungry, and so, standing up as high as possible on his hind legs and peering about to see whether or not the field was empty, he came cautiously out of the forest and made his way towards the maize.
When about half-way, however, his attention was suddenly attracted by some Tibetan prayer-flags which had been strung up between two small trees. On spotting the flags, the bear gave a grunt of disapproval and began to back into the forest. But the flutering of the flags was a puzzle he had to make out. And so, after a few backward steps, he again stopped and watched them.
Still dissatisfied, he stood on his hind legs looking at the flags, first at one side and then at the other. He was none was wiser; so he advanced until he was within a few yards, of them, when he again stood up and examined them from various view-points. Then seeing that they did not attack him or appear in any way dangerous, he made his way right up to the flags, taking only two or three steps at a time, and having a good look before each advance. Finally walked confidently up to the flags and pulled them all down. After examining them carefully, moved into the field of maize.
But my friend (who owned the field) decided that the wasn�t going to lose any more maize so he started shouting, and the villagers woke up and came out of their houses beating drums and empty kerosene tins.
Deprived of his dinner, the bear made off in a bad temper. He ran downhill, and at a good speed too, and I was glad I wasn�t in his path just then. Uphill or downhill, angry bear in best given a wide berth.
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