The Nose in the Snow

Let me begin by saying: this is not a light-hearted story.

It begins with two boys, a snowdrift, and something moving beneath it.

They had no idea what they had found. Their discovery would lead to a dangerous situation and, unfortunately, a tragic end for a creature that never meant anyone any harm.

A Nose In the Snow

It was early March 1877, and though there had been a spell of warm weather, winter still had a good grasp on Newfoundland’s Avalon Peninsula.

Two boys from Long Pond had walked nearly an hour into the woods to cut hoop-poles — slender, flexible sticks used for barrel-making to bind staves together. They noticed a strange black object poking through a small hole in the snow. It was moving back and forth, barely above the drifts.

It looked like a nose!

And whatever animal it belonged to, it seemed to be sniffing the air, surveying the surroundings.

The boys quickly decided it must belong to a fox, and they descended upon it.

A Cruel Mistake

I don't know what the boys were thinking. Perhaps they hoped to add a fox pelt to the day's tally of hoop-poles, regardless their excitement seems to have clouded their judgement.

They couldn't even see the animal they were creeping toward, and they were hardly equipped for hunting. The only tool they carried was the axe they'd been using to cut hoop-poles. That alone should have given them pause.

But it didn't.

With two quick blows they struck the protruding snout.

Instantly, they knew they'd made a terrible mistake.

The snow erupted.

The animal roared to life, thrusting its massive black paws through the drift toward them.

Whatever lay beneath the snow, it was no fox.

Wounded, furious, and suddenly wide awake, the mysterious animal was nearly on top of them.

The Den

The creature thrashed wildly, clawing frantically at the ground. It snagged one of the boys' feet, tearing the toe clean off his boot.

The boys turned and ran, their hearts pounding.

With every stride they expected to feel the animal upon them.

They didn't stop until they reached a man cutting firewood.

As best they could, the boys described what had happened. Whatever had been hiding beneath the snow, it was large, powerful, and had nearly caught them.

As soon as they had finished, the man encouraged them to take him back to the den.

When they arrived, everything was still.

There was no nose this time, and nothing stirred beneath the blanket of snow.

The woodsman approached cautiously. Taking a long stick, he reached into the darkness of the den and gave it a hard jab.

In an instant, a broad, dark head lunged from the opening.

The axe was already falling.

With a single blow, the woodsman killed an impressive black bear, and its body collapsed onto the snow.

The truth washed over the boys, in their haste they had unwittingly attacked a bear; they had walked right up to its den and struck the first blow.

They were lucky to be alive.

Strange Truth of Tall Tale?

It’s a remarkable story. But, like so many remarkable nineteenth-century newspaper stories, I find myself wondering how much of it actually happened.

The account names neither the boys nor the man who killed the bear. It offers no clue as to where the story came from, nor quotes from the principal players. For such an extraordinary encounter, these omissions feel curious.

The setting raises questions, too. Black bears are familiar animals across much of Newfoundland and Labrador, but they’re not common on the Avalon Peninsula — a bear hiding beneath the snow near Long Pond would have been a rare discovery indeed.

On the other hand, the report gives a specific date —"last Saturday evening" — and, perhaps most importantly, it indicates that the bear itself would be exhibited at the Drill Shed the following Friday and Saturday.

That said, readers of Product of Newfoundland will remember that in 1877 a promised bear didn't always mean an actual bear.

So, who knows?

Perhaps the story happened just as it was told. Or perhaps, like so many nineteenth-century newspaper accounts, truth took a backseat to entertainment.

Robert Hiscock

Robert grew up in a tiny Newfoundland community called Happy Adventure. These days he lives in Gander, NL and his happiest adventures are spent with his two Labrador retrievers exploring the island while listening to a soundtrack of local music.

When the dogs are napping Robert takes photos, writes about Newfoundland, and makes a podcast.

https://productofnewfoundland.ca
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