There were many wild animals in Tuolumne county in the early days--the grizzly , cinnamon-brown bear and the black bear, the California lion, lynx and bobcats. The lions and bears were the most dangerous. The brown and black bears would enter a camp or tent, and devour and destroy its contents. The grizzly, "Monarch of the Wilds," seldom ventured near a settlement.
The last grizzly on record was killed on a Sunday morning within a mile of Summersville. It was shot by George Hart and Josh Benadum. George Hart will be remembered by many Sonorans. The grizzly was taken to Joseph Lord's slaughter house, and weighed two or three pounds over fifteen hundred pounds. The bear was weighed by William Murphy, whose home was in Columbia. At the time he was manager of Joseph Lord's meat market.
In those days of Kaintucky rifles, single shot, and black powder, the only vital place to hit a grizzly , or, in fact, any kind of bear, was the heart, eye or ear.
This grizzly had been shot through the heart twice.
Grizzlies are like the early pioneers--the place that knew them once will know them no more. One never hears of a grizzly being seen, even on the highest and most inaccessible peaks of the Sierra range. We have only the brown bear left to cause occasional thrills and excitement; and even at that, one not familiar with bear-ology had better bow and pass on than try to kill.
The last brown bear I have seen or have a personal knowledge of was at Sugar Pine Creek five or six years ago, near the Excelsior mine. I was walking up the creek above the old dam. There was tall grass growing. I thought I saw something unusual in the creek above me. I could only see the bear's back for the grass was tall and waving I thought. I knew there was something rooting in the grass, and concluded it was a coon or a badger. Finally I saw the whole body move. I had an L. C. Smith double-barrel shotgun, loaded with No. 7 shot, but no extra cartridges. I had the gun resting on my left arm and carried a gold pan in my right. I laid the gold pan down without noise. I was not expecting a bear and was not prepared to meet one. I raised both hammers of my gun, and, as far as possible, prepared for action. I knew enough not to run. Directly the bear raised his head and saw me. He gave a snort that caused chills, and started for a pine thicket on the bank. I was not far from the cabin, but my knees were weak; reaction was doing its duty. But after that when I went in the hills I carried a gun and a few steel jackets or a soft-nose or two.
The greatest achievement that I remember of ever seeing any record of was of a slaughter of bears, all killed in the space of a few minutes by Geo. B. Connally, now living in Tuolumne, George usually hunted for big game, so was prepared for any emergency. In the vicinity of the White House--the Duckwall ranch--now owned by Emmett Murphy, is a long open swale known as Skidmore Flat, three miles east of Tuolumne. George was alone, and walking a narrow trail through thick brush; when he reached the flat he was warned of an unusual event. A black bear and a brown bear were in deadly combat over the carcass of a cow. He immediately opened fire and killed the old bears, leaving two large sized cubs for him to slaughter, and he called it a day with four bears to his credit.