Chapter I: The Little White Bear

Sitka, the Snow Baby, opened his eyes on a world all blue-white ice-bergs and green-blue ocean under a sky that sparkled in the spring sunshine.

He was as fat as butter and as fuzzy as a kitten, was Sitka, the little white bear. He looked for all the world like a big puppy, with his long white fur that was to keep him warm in this land of ice and snow. For his home was Alaska, that great Western frontier of the United States that reaches to the North Pole.

Why was Sitka white, instead of black like his cousin Twinkly Eyes, of the deep, black-shadowed pine woods? One reason for his having white fur in that land of white was so that his enemies could not see him so plainly. For there were fierce white wolves that would have eaten him, had they found him, he was so little and soft and helpless. Of course his mother could protect him,--if there weren’t too many wolves, she was so big and fierce. Mother White Bear, like all the polar bear tribe, was at least twice as big as Mother Black Bear.

Sitka had been born five weeks before in the cave in the ice-berg where his mother had slept the winter away. At first he had been naked and blind and helpless. Now his fur had grown and his eyes had opened, and he was ready to take a look at the world.

My, how cold it was, even in spring, here in Alaska! His mother kept walking back and forth, back and forth, on the ice, because the minute she stopped her feet would have frozen fast, even though their soles were covered with fur. Sitka watched her for a few minutes, then he, too, began pacing back and forth, back and forth, without stopping.

His mother had a longer neck than most bears, because it helped her to keep her nose above water when she swam. She was a great swimmer, for she lived on fish most of the time, and in her search for salmon and mackerel and shell-fish she often went far from shore, swimming from one ice-floe to the next through the open sea. The polar bear is often called the sea bear.

Now this is what had become of Sitka’s father.--When the long, dark polar winter had set in and Sitka’s mother had curled herself up in the ice cave to hibernate, her mate had gone roaming over land and sea in search of good things to eat. He never slept the winter away as she did, and the cold gave him a ravenous appetite. Something must have happened to him during his wanderings, for he never came back. Perhaps an Eskimo killed him, to make his warm white fur into a rug for his igloo, as they call the little round snow houses these little brown people live in. Or perhaps he wanted a bear skin to make himself a parka, the hooded shirt they wear.

Sitka’s mother had selected for her winter sleep a den on the ice-berg. This was when the sea froze over. When the spring sunshine began shining through the glassy walls of her retreat, and Sitka was strong enough to follow her, she burst her way through the icy door of her cave and led him forth, while she looked this way and that for something she could eat. The berg had broken away from the harbor ice, and floated this way and that through the open sea, as the wind blew it along. There wasn’t a thing she could eat on that ice cake, and she was starved after her winter’s fast.

Most of the year she had to live on fish and clams, and the eggs of sea birds, because only in mid-summer were there berries and grasses. She loved salmon perhaps best of all. Once she found a good fishing ground, she could catch the great silver fish with her claws. But not one fish could she see in the water that broke in little waves against their floating island.

Small sea-gulls were flying low above their heads. They were Arctic tern, and it made her mouth water to look at them. Leaping after one that flew low overhead, she made a grab at it with her paw, but failed to catch it. Wee Sitka also made a grab at them, but his fat legs slipped from under him, and over and over he rolled like a furry ball. The birds had been wintering in the South, and they had flown thousands of miles on their long wings to get back to Alaska. By and by, when the short Arctic summer came, it would be the most wonderful place in the world to raise their families and find the things they liked to eat. They had webbed feet, so that they could swim when their wings got tired, and their long bills were hooked at the tips to help them catch their slippery prey.

Just now the circling birds wheeled at the call of their leader and went flapping Eastward toward the Alaskan shore. “That means they’ve seen something good,--perhaps a school of mackerel,” Sitka’s mother rumbled deep down in her throat. No wonder the Eskimos watch the tern for a sign of good luck, for the bright eyes of a flock of gulls are sure to see where the best fishing ground lies.

Mother White Bear plunged into the icy water, bidding the snow baby follow her. Sitka dipped one fat paw into the icy tide, and squealed that he was afraid. “Come on,” she urged him. “Just catch hold of my tail and I’ll tow you along.” (For you know the polar bear has a wee stub of a tail.)

“No-o-o-o!” he squealed, afraid. But wise Mother White Bear sank almost out of sight in the blue-green water. “Wa-i-t!” he wailed.

Of a sudden she lifted her head high on its long neck, and sniffed the current of the wind. Sitka also sniffed, to find out what it was she smelled. Just then his feet slipped from under him, and off into the icy water slid the fat white cub. “Oosh! Huff--huff--huff!” he gasped, the plunge fairly taking his breath away. He felt sure that he was going under. Without once realizing that he was learning to swim, he struck out with all fours, just as if he were running, till he could make a grab for his mother’s tail. Then he clung to it with his teeth, while she swam strongly to the next great, floating ice cake. There she scrambled over the edge, and Sitka with her, and stood shaking her wet fur and sniffing the wind.

“I smell birds’ nests,” she explained. “But I get a message about something else, too. It must be an enemy;” for the fur was rising along the back of her neck, the way it does when danger threatens.