JACKSONVILLE, O.T.--The Sentinel, of Nov. 13th, chronicles the annexed intelligence:
    "We learn from J. M. Durban that himself and two others, Charles Lythus and Seth Hall, were attacked one day last week, near the mouth of Little Butte Creek, by a large grizzly bear. Durban was the only one who had a gun, and he fired at the bear, wounding him, but the bear continued to pursue them, and overtook Hall, and bit him severely on the back of the neck and on the calf of his leg, and then fell dead. On examination, it was found that the ball had gone through the lower portion of the heart of the bear, who ran afterwards over a hundred yards before he fell. The bear weighed over twelve hundred pounds; one of his feet measured thirteen inches in length. Hall, we learn, is recovering from his wounds."
Sacramento Daily Union, November 22, 1858, page 3


    ENCOUNTER WITH A GRIZZLY IN OREGON.--The Oregon Sentinel, of November 10th, relates the following:
    A German named William Brahmer, living on Rogue River, two miles below Bethel's Ferry, had a terrible adventure with a grizzly bear on the morning of Thursday of last week. He was out hunting, accompanied by his two dogs. When about two miles from his cabin, in the woods, his dogs started upon the track of some animal, which they traced to a clump of brush. Here they halted and soon commenced barking violently. Brahmer, thinking that they had discovered a black bear, hastened to the spot. Just as he came in front of the stump of an old oak tree, a grizzly came charging toward him with jaws wide open, growling and snorting. Our hunter raised his rifle, quickly aimed at the brute's head, but before he could pull [the] trigger the bear was within a few feet of him. Instantly he lowered his piece so as to hit the monster directly in the mouth, and pulled. The cap snapped [i.e., the rifle misfired]. In a moment, quick as a flash, the bear rose upon his hind feet, caught Brahmer's right arm between his teeth, and with his forepaws forcibly threw his victim to the ground. Before letting go with his teeth, the grizzly had torn the great muscle of Brahmer's upper arm almost entirely away, thus completely crippling him. But the plucky fellow reached for his knife with his left hand. The effort was vain, and meanwhile the bear was biting and tearing his limbs and flesh fearfully. With great presence of mind, Brahmer then, as a last chance for escape from the clutches of his assailant, cried out for his dogs. They answered to his call, happily, and at once set to worrying the common foe. Finding himself thus unceremoniously attacked in the rear, the grizzly turned, left Brahmer and commenced to battle with the dogs. The lacerated man took advantage of this diversion and, gathering all his energies, rose to his feet [and] made a pretty fleet run for about two hundred yards, when he fell exhausted and lay panting, awaiting reaction of vigor. The dogs and bear continued fighting. The loss of blood and the severe pain of his wounds began to tell upon Brahmer, yet he managed to creep and drag his way to his own cabin, which he reached in two or three hours' time. The bear had tracked him for a part of the way, but was kept from close approach by the faithful dogs. Some men happened to be at the cabin when Brahmer arrived, and while some of them attended to him, the rest went in search of the bear. He had made good his escape, and the dogs, apparently well content to let him alone, had returned to their master's cabin. Dr. Brooks was sent for, and on Friday he dressed the wounds that were serious or severe. On Monday Brahmer was brought to town and is now at Dr. Brooks' hospital, where we saw him on Wednesday and received from his own lips a sketch of his fearful adventure. His body is bitten and lacerated terribly. He has over fifty wounds in all--twenty-eight of which are quite serious. More than two pounds of flesh has been torn from his right arm, and the great muscle is quite gone. It is doubtful if he ever recovers any use of this limb.
Sacramento Daily Union, November 17, 1860, page 3


    CONVALESCING.--Brahmer, who was so terribly mauled and torn by a grizzly a few weeks ago, on Rogue River, is rapidly recovering from his wounds, and is enabled to go about the streets on crutches. His right arm, from which the great muscle was bitten, will never regain its strength or full use. He is lucky to get off so well.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, November 24, 1860, page 3


    Last Saturday evening, Washington Obenchain, who resides on Big Butte Creek, about 30 miles from Jacksonville, noticed that something had been disturbing his cattle, and on making search, found the intruder to be a very large grizzly bear. Early next morning, Mr. Obenchain, accompanied by his two brothers, took their guns and dogs and started in search of the grizzly, and the dogs succeeded in overhauling him in about four miles travel, bringing him to a standstill. The men spurred up their horses and were soon on the ground, which is known as 80-acre prairie, dismounted, and one of them fired on him, but without any perceivable effect, except to start him for the brush. Washington Obenchain then mounted his horse and followed him into the brush, where the dogs had again brought him to bay. Mr. Obenchain, finding himself in close quarters, raised his gun and let him have a load of buckshot, which set bruin in excellent fighting humor, and he turned on him for revenge, knocking his horse from under him, and was using him up pretty fast, when the dogs, who were vigorously attacking the bear in the rear, attracted bruin's attention, saving their master from further mutilation, until one of the other men came up and gave him a dead shot, which caused him to retire in disgust, and the dogs then took satisfaction out of him. The bear was of enormous size and would weigh about 1,200 pounds. One of his forefeet measured 12 inches in length and 9 inches in width. This bear has been a pest to the citizens of that section for years. We learn from Dr. Aiken, who dressed the wounds of Mr. Obenchain, that he received twelve flesh wounds, nine of which are serious and the rest slight, the most dangerous being where the bear bit him through the legs. Mr. Obenchain is convalescing, but it is not likely that he will hanker after another bear fight soon.
State Rights Democrat, Albany, Oregon, October 11, 1872, page 1   For later, mythologized, versions click here.


    The most wonderful bear stories are related by these courageous backwoodsmen. I can only believe them by taking a look at their stocks of bear, panther and deer skins. I am thinking of bringing home with me enough bear skins to carpet one or two of our rooms. I asked if there was any danger of exterminating this game, and received as an answer that there would not be in 200 years.
Adam Klippel, "A Missourian's Observations," Ashland Tidings, October 12, 1877, page 1


    It was away back in the dawn of the early days--in 1854. Col. T'Vault then lived a short distance this side of Dardanelles and a few miners had erected their little log huts in the gulches in the vicinity--along the foothills toward the Willow Springs. A few farmers had begun in a moderate way to stir up the bottom lands, and among others thus engaged was one Dr. Kane. The day before the circumstance of which we write a son of Dr. Kane, having been out in the manzanita hills not far east of the T'Vault place, had discovered the retreat of a huge grizzly bear; for in those days,
and usually spent the day among the manzanita and chaparral of the foothills. Well, a party of five men, avowedly as brave as any in the settlement, armed themselves for the conflict, and, guided by young Kane, started out in search of the "b'ar," expecting to have some rare sport. Among others engaged in this hazardous raid was one H. C. Hill, a young man of courage and muscularity, who was armed with a squirrel gun and otherwise equipped for a fierce encounter, with his ursine highness. As the party advanced through the thickets, "every man in the rear" as Mark Twain would say, it happened that they scattered over quite a district of country and it was evident that as they would not all be together when the bear was found; there would be a chance for some to escape. Dr. Kane and Mr. Hill, while creeping along through the manzanita, drifted into each other's company and, soon after, came up suddenly within thirty feet of the bear, whereupon the monster rose up on his hind feet and snorted so loudly that even the manzanita leaves trembled and the two valiant hunters felt the electric influence of sudden excitement--it was not fear--actually lifting their hats into the air. Dr. Kane leveled his shotgun and fired, in spite of the warning of his cooler comrade, and as quick as a flash, the bear was after him and the doctor fleeing for life. In pursuing the doctor, the bear passed within a few feet of Mr. Hill, who, hoping to save his friend by a well-directed shot, let fly with his squirrel gun. As he had wished, his friend was saved but his own safety was not so well assured, for it was now his time to run, with the bear close at his heels. He was strong and fleet of foot but he was no match for the bear, and, while endeavoring to turn around a sapling quicker than the bear could, he tripped and fell and the bear was upon him in a moment. With one huge claw it tore off his hat rim, so close the blow came to his head, and then seized him by the side just above the hip bone with its teeth, raised him from the ground and shook him as a cat would a mouse. At this moment Mr. Hill's large Newfoundland dog came up and seized the bear, which turned at once upon its new antagonist. The dog seemed to know just what was required, and kept up the engagement, seizing the bear whenever it made a start for Mr. Hill and then retreating a little way, pursued by the bear, until the two were a hundred yards away. All this time Mr. Hill's comrades, although they had heard his cry of "My God, he's got me!" had kept safely secreted behind brush and trees until the dog had led the bear away and the coast was clear. They now came up to console him with words of sympathy and received such a lecture from the prostrate man, that the reverberations of his eloquence resounded, for ever so long, through the deep gulches and along the rocky hillsides. Mr. Hill was dangerously hurt, but they carried him to his cabin, and, being a man of iron constitution, he eventually recovered. The dark red lines are today plainly visible on his side where the tusks of the monster plowed their way through the flesh. The next day a party of perhaps 20 men re-entered the thickets, hunted out the hiding place of the bear, and taking up their positions in oaks on different sides, brought him down with a score of shots. The grizzly weighed 900 lbs., and was evidently an old fellow. In one of his legs they found a copper ball, an ounce in weight, which had evidently been there many years, perhaps ever since the days when the trappers of the Hudson Bay Co. traversed this then wilderness land, and had so many thrilling adventures with wild beasts and wild men. For the verification of this story we take pleasure in referring our readers to H. C. Hill, Esq., one of the city fathers of Ashland town.
Ashland Tidings, November 23, 1877, page 3


    OUR REGULAR BEAR STORY.--Prof. Leek informs us that Mr. Sim Farlow of Butte Creek a few days ago came near having a very serious experience with a bear. It appears that while out hunting, accompanied by his dogs, he came suddenly onto a mealy-nosed bear, an animal nearly approaching the grizzly in size and ferocity. The dogs at once gave chase and the bear went up a tree just far enough to be out of their reach. Mr. Farlow, not fully realizing the danger perhaps, came up within a few paces and fired. The bear, not seriously hurt, was after him in a moment and Mr. Farlow making his best time over logs and through thickets. But the bear steadily gained on him and just as he was turning around a huge boulder the mealy nose of the man-destroyer was within a few inches of him. Just at this moment the dogs seized the bear, and as it turned to beat them off Mr. Farlow made a lucky shot and brought the "varmint" down in its tracks.
Ashland Tidings, November 30, 1877, page 3


Ashland Tidings, April 4, 1879, page 3




    The Oregon Native Son magazine of Portland gives the following legend:
    The Shastas ascribe their origin to the falling of one of the daughters of the Great Spirit from the top of Mt. Shasta to its base, where she fell among a family of grizzly bears. Until she was grown she was brought up in ignorance of her parentage, and on arriving at maturity married married one of the sons of the mother grizzly who had reared her from infancy. After her marriage she gave birth to children who were the progenitors of the Indians. This is why the Indians living around Mt. Shasta will never kill a grizzly bear, and whenever one of their number is killed by such kings of the forest they are burned where they fall, and all passersby throw upon the place a stone until a great pile is erected to mark the spot.
Valley Record, Ashland, September 6, 1900, page 3


    Grizzly Butte is a prominent projection of the the Cascade Range overlooking Bear Creek Valley, opposite Ashland, which attains a height of 6000 feet. Seen by the traveler from Ashland station, with its bald southern face flecked with the light and somber tints as the sun is nearing the crest line of the mountain range on the west, the origin of its name is easily suggested from the garb with which nature has clothed the mountain mass. But the traveler would be in error. It was named for the grizzly bear, and the name dates from a terrible encounter with one of the big plantigrades on this mountain 45 years ago, in which Henry Chapman was shockingly mangled, and nearly lost his life.
    That portion of the Cascades east of Ashland was once the favorite haunt of the grizzly bear; they were the kings of the wilds there, and old settlers say they were more numerous than in the adjacent Siskiyou Range. Mr. Chapman, an aged and respected pioneer citizen, now resides on his ranch a few miles south of Ashland, and it was from him the narrative of the battle with the bear is obtained, and of which his body bears the scars of the cruel wounds he suffered.
    The year 1855 was marked by an Indian war in Southern Oregon, and the few pioneer settlers in Upper Bear Creek Valley were placed in great peril. They were always watchful for Indians, and hence when on September 5th of that year Henry Chapman, W. F. Songer, E. Wells, Joe Wells, Frog Wells, Frost and Coyote Johnson started out on a bear hunt, they were prepared to fight Indians as well. They camped the first night on Frog Creek, above where the "sweat" house now is.
    Erastus Wells was put on guard. He discovered a signal fire of the Indians at Boone ranch, now known as the Mickelson ranch, which aroused the party, who then stood guard until daylight. After breakfast Chapman, accompanied by Erastus and Joe Wells, went out to look for bear. They went over to the foot of the mountain (Grizzly) and discovered the tracks of five or six grizzlies. Taking up the trail, they followed the bears into and through a thicket of firs, hearing them run out on the upper side. Thence they tracked the bears around and up the east side of the mountain to the summit of Big Prairie, where they separated, Erastus going down next to Antelope Creek, Chapman along the south side, and Joe about midway between them, all going west.
    "After some little time," said Chapman, "not seeing the other boys, I began to feel uneasy. Directly I looked to my left I saw something in the thick fir brush, and on hearing a bear squall, I worked around cautiously to get a view a little further around the bush, when I saw two old grizzlies and four cubs feeding on berries. I was armed with a double-barreled, muzzle-loading shotgun. I had previously loaded it heavily with buckshot for Indians. I now put an ounce ball in each barrel, and aiming carefully off my knee, let go at one of the old bears. He fell, and the other big fellow and the cubs ran away, but there were others, for, glancing to my right, I saw another one running down through the prairie. I ran out on the prairie and shot at this one as he went by. He fell down, rolled over, then got up again and made off in his original course across the opening.
    "Turning my gun down to reload, I heard the first one I had shot, and which I supposed dead, coming my way. The bear made directly for me, and I started on a run for three trees which I saw standing in a bunch on the prairie. Making tracks as fast as my legs would carry me, one of my shoes came off and I lost my shoe, hat and gun all in the same place. As I ran on some distance, I saw Erastus and Joe looking ahead as if they thought I was in pursuit of something. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the bear within ten feet of me, and I cried to them that it was a bear. Just then the bear roared, which so terrified the boys that they dropped their guns and ran, Erastus making for some neighboring brush and Joe climbing an old stump about 10 feet high. Now the bear was all but on me; I had powder and shot in my coat pocket, and in running the coat flew back, and as the bear came within reach of me, the first swipe he made caught the coat pocket and tore off the flap. This gave me a little start of the bear, and I reached one of the trees, the bear close after me.
    "I did some active dodging as I ran around the tree. The bear raked at me first on one side and then on the other with her paws, and it was plain I could not last long there. I then called to the boys for help and made a dash for another tree, but had to keep an eye on the bear all the time to avoid a blow. I had not gone far when she struck me on the head, splitting the flesh to the bone from the top of my head to my eyebrows. I was knocked down and the ferocious beast was on top of me. She first caught me by the right thigh, mashing the flesh from the bone. I made a desperate effort to get up, when she seized me by the shoulder, mashing it, then snapped at my throat, cutting the leaders [ligaments?] all off, and for a miracle just missing the jugular vein. I continued in a blind way trying to do something, and thrust my hand in the bear's mouth. She bit through my hand and then caught me in the shoulder and bit into the hollow, which made me faint, and I could not see.
    "I suppose the bear thought me dead, for she now gave her attention to Erastus and Joe. Each had a navy revolver tied over his shoulder with a buckskin string, but in the excitement and hurry they pulled them so tight they could not get them untied. Joe fired at the bear with the pistol tied to him, and yelled to Erastus that the bear was coming. The latter made up a limb on a log, the bear scraping his foot as he went up. The bear now appeared to be master of the field. I was plainly a goner, and Joe and Erastus were in a mighty tight place. But good luck was to turn the tide for us; Joe fired at random with his pistol and broke the bear's back; another shot broke her neck, and Erastus now turned loose on her and emptied his revolver into her body.
    "By this time I had regained my senses and tried to get up, but I could not do so. I sat up and put my hand to my throat. I thought my jugular vein was cut, and supposed, of course, I could not last long. Joe came to me, asking how bad I was hurt, and I told him my jugular vein was cut. Then Erastus came up and immediately turned to go away. I called out not to leave me, as I could not live long, when he came back and I said all I asked of him was not to write to my folks. They then took their silk handkerchiefs and bound them around my neck. Erastus then asked bow many bears there were, and I said about 15 or 16. Then bears and Indians would both be upon us soon, he said, and he grabbed me up, threw me over his shoulder and started on a run, calling to Joe to bring the guns. After a time Joe said I was dead, and Erastus laid me down, face to the ground. I had fainted again, but with the shock on the ground I recovered, and told them I was not dead, whereupon Erastus picked me up again and threw me over his shoulder, but this I could not stand, and insisted on being left in the brush, as I could not live anyway. They declared they would take me out, and after further delay so much time had elapsed that I concluded my jugular vein was not cut, and that there was a chance for me.
    "Well, they finally raised me to my feet, and, supporting me, one on each side, we got to the foot of the hill, where we found some others of our party, who helped us to camp. The desire of this party for bear hunting had been fully satisfied, and the boys broke camp and hastened to get me home. I was carried to Daddy Wells'. The old man sewed up the wounds, and the only available doctor at Jacksonville was sent for to dress my wounds. He came the next day, cut open, probed and sewed up my wounds. I laid helpless about six weeks in bed, being fed on soup with a spoon. It was a year before I was well."
    So we have the story of Grizzly Peak, which, together with other well-accredited tragical and adventurous incidents in the pioneer life of the Oregonians, should be gathered and collected by those interested in the work of the Oregon Historical Society. Mr. Chapman has passed the 45 years since his hard day with the bear on Grizzly Peak as a successful rancher, and has seen the pretty city of Ashland grow up almost in sight of that summit plateau where big grizzlies and hostile Indians were to be looked for at every step. W. F. Songer, who constituted one of the party, is now a well-known resident of Ashland.