Barney and the Bear

By Greg Brown, Wolfville, Nova Scotia
Copyright © 2003 Kerry Blue Terrier Foundation

In the Fall of 1964, when we were in Vancouver, BC, our Kerry Blue Terrier, Barney O'Shorn Paddy Wack (Paddy Wack is/was the kennel name), had been living with us for only a few months. He had been kennel raised and had come to us only because a fire had forced his previous owners to give him up. It had been a sometimes difficult transition for Barney to go from being a kennel dog on the show circuit to being a family pet, however, he was fitting in well except for the odd time he ran away. This invariably occurred when there was the prospect of a good fight with another dog.

We often went on family picnics and outings in the woods and Barney loved being able to roam free with no chain link fence or leash to hold him back. He never strayed far from the family group and true to his herding instincts, he would dash ahead and then return to make sure that everyone was following him.

On one occasion, my father and I, along with a business acquaintance, went quite a distance up into the mountains outside of West Vancouver, where we were living at the time. After parking the car and gathering our gear, which included a rifle for each of us, we left the side of the logging road on which we had traveled and headed into the bush. We had not gone far when Barney tensed and then dashed forward, obviously in pursuit of something. His quarry turned out to be a female black bear and two cubs.

So intent was Barney on catching up to the biggest "dog" he had ever seen, he was completely oblivious to our calls. The bear chased her cubs up a tree and ran off with Barney in hot pursuit. Despite our chasing after them, they were soon out of sight and we were convinced that we had seen the end of Barney.

We searched the area for several hours without success and at one point we even saw the mother bear watching us from behind some trees. It was a temptation to shoot the beast, as we were sure that she had turned and killed Barney when she felt certain that she had led him far enough away from her cubs. We realized, however, that she was just following her maternal instincts and protecting her young.

Just before giving up the search for Barney as dusk approached, we scanned the area from some high ground with our binoculars in the vain hope that we might still find him. Amazingly enough, one of us spotted him at the foot of a cliff about a half mile away. We attracted his attention by shouting to him, and then my father went down the rock face and helped him up when we realized he was not going to make it on his own.

Once reunited with him, we checked him out and found that he had two bad scratch wounds, one on either side of his back. As well, his coat was filthy and he was generally quite disheveled looking. Basically, however, he was in remarkably good condition considering what he had been through.

We assumed that the bear had turned on him and caught him with at least two swipes of her powerful paws, perhaps knocking him down the side of the cliff in the process. It would certainly have been interesting to hear Barney's rendition of the story had he been able to talk. We cleaned his wounds as best we could, and after he had drunk the better part of a canteen full of water, we carried him back to the car.

Barney healed in time and seemed none the worse for his experience. He continued to live with us for another twelve years. One might have thought that this harrowing ordeal might have dampened his enthusiasm for fighting, but true Irishman that he was, Barney was ready for a good scrap almost until the day he died. He never got a chance for a return bout with a bear, however, his largest opponents after that epic battle were a Great Dane and a Newfoundland.

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