My grandfather George Robertroy told me three bear stories.
#1. Someone in our family killed the last bear in Mt. Clemens County MI.
#2. A relative was living in the woods in a shack. After a long winter, he went to town to get some decent meat and headed home with a sack of pork chunks in a bag. As he went along he realized that a bear was following him and, when it caught up, he took a piece of the pork from the bag and tossed it to the bear, hurrying onward. Soon the bear caught up again and he threw it another chunk of pork. He got back to his shack with the bear still following him. So he went in, got his gun, and came out and shot the bear.
#3. One day, a relative was in the forest chopping wood and put his axe down for a moment, when a bear rushed him. So my relative jumped into a tree and climbed as quickly as possible. But black bears can climb trees too, and the bear came up after him. Now, my relative was a big strapping fellow [my grandfathers words]. He took out his sheath knife and lopped off a branch, and when the bear came up, clawing and open-mouthed to bite him, he jammed the sharp branch down into the bear's mouth as hard as he could. The bear was injured deep inside and fell off the tree. My relative climbed down, got his axe, and killed it.
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