Happy Father's Day......A Story Of "Old Ephraim" & One Sweet Rifle!!!

Wathe208

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I was lucky enough to spend the day with my father yesterday at our cabin on Bear Lake built by him, his brothers and his father in the late 1960's. Most of our day was spent talking/dreaming about our SA hunt coming up in a couple of weeks. At 73, he's still going strong and we're looking at a fun month together hunting, traveling, and swapping stories all over SA.

Anyhoo, I grew up in Cache Valley Utah, before the piles of people (mostly "out-of-staters") and the curse/blessing/catch 22 of technology and social media. I still get a bit sad when I see developments where I used to shoot deer, elk, birds, and trap fuzzies as a young man. Being from that area, I was heavily involved in scouting, which included countless campfire nights in the woods eating s'mores, smiling, laughing, joking, and telling stories. One story, that had as many variations as has caused sleepless nights (Ghost Bear, Graw Bear, etc) is that of Old Ephraim. Old Ephraim was a grizzly that terrorized those hills (The Cache) for years, and as mentioned, was responsible for many sleepless nights.

The following is an article I enjoyed by Tammy Stephen's and published by The Herald Journal at hjnews.com.

" "Recent news stories about bears get people thinking about these bruins. Almost every summer it seems the news reports a story about someone in Yellowstone or Grand Teton National Parks being mauled by a grizzly. Stories around black bear sightings around Bear Lake are becoming more frequent every year, although most have not been substantiated.

Stories about bears are fun to listen to and an encounter with a bear would make for a very memorable vacation. However, none compare to the monster that terrorized an entire community more than 80 years ago.

This is the story of Old Ephraim, a bear who stood almost 10 feet tall and weighed a full 1,100 pounds. Old Ephraim’s statue can be seen in downtown Montpelier in Kings parking lot.

Old Ephraim roamed the Cache Nation Forest from about 1911 until his death on August 22, 1923. During his reign of terror, Old Ephraim killed hundreds of sheep and cattle, making life difficult for area ranchers.

Even with his massive size, Old Ephraim was sighted in daylight only two or three times over the years, but he left his distinctive tracks where he traveled. The bear had a deformed foot with only three toes on it, making it easier for anyone to recognize his mark.

Just like in the movies, however, this villain met his match in Frank Clark, an energetic, nature-loving man from Malad, Idaho. Clark herded sheep on the Cache Forest from 1911 to 1945, but history remembers him for a different deed.

During the summer of 1911, bears killed at least 154 sheep and maimed dozens more. This was a serious loss to the ranchers of the area and something needed to be done.

Clark helped out and in the next several years killed 50 bears. One bear, however, eluded him, for a while.

Like Captain Ahab in Moby Dick, Clark set out to find and kill his “white whale.” Unlike the good captain, however, Clark was not destroyed by his quarry.

By the early 1920s, Clark had become so familiar with Old Ephraim’s habits that he was certain he would be able to trap the monster. During the early summer of 1923, Clark set out a trap in one of the grizzly’s favorite wallows, but the wily bruin wasn’t going to be caught that easily.

Every time he found the trap, Ephraim either sprung it or simply picked it up and flung it into nearby bushes. This went on all summer until either Clark became smarter and was able to hide the trap better, or the bear just got careless.

In an excerpt from his own account about the incident, Clark wrote, “... I visited the trap and he had drummed the wallow into a newly built one, so I carefully changed the trap to his newly built bath. I was camped one mile down the canyon in a tent. That night was fine, beautiful, a starlit night, and I was sleeping fine when I was awakened by a roar and a groan near camp. I had a dog, but not a sound came from Mr. Dog. I tried to get to sleep, but no chance, so I got up and put on my shoes but no trousers. I did take the gun, a 25-.35 cal Carbine with seven steel ball cartridges, and walked up the trail. I did not know it was Eph’ In fact, I thought it was a horse that was down. Eph’ was in the creek in some wallows and after I had got past him, he let me know all at once that it was not a horse. What should I do? Alone, the closest human being three miles away and Eph’ between me and the camp.”

Clark decided to climb a hill and wait for the bear. When daylight came, the bear still had not shown himself, so Clark began throwing sticks in to the willows to scare him out. Ephraim slipped out and Clark tracked him close to his tent where he glimpsed a small patch of hide.

"I fired at it and grazed the shoulder. Now for me to get the greatest thrill of my life. Ephraim raised up on his hind legs with his back to me and a 14-foot, log chain wound around his right arm as carefully as a man would have done it, and a 23 pound bear trap on his foot, he turned around, and I saw the most magnificent sight that any man could ever see. I was paralyzed with fear and could not raise my gun. He was coming, still on his hind legs, holding that cussed trap above his head. I was rooted to the earth and let him come within six feet of me before I stuck the gun out and pulled the trigger. He fell back, but came again and received five of the remaining six bullets. He had now reached the trail, still on his hind legs. I only had one cartridge left in the gun and still that bear would not go down.”

Clark turned downhill and ran for 20 yards before looking back at the bear. Old Ephraim was still standing, but Jennie, Clark’s dog, was nipping at his heels. Clark turned to help Jennie, and the bear started toward the man.

“I could see that he was badly injured, as at each breath the blood would spurt from his nostrils, so I gave him the last bullet in the brain. I think I felt sorry I had to do it.”

After skinning the beast, Clark and another herder buried him. Not long after that, Boy Scout Troop No. 43, out of Logan, UT., dug up the body and the bear’s huge skull eventually found its way to the Smithsonian Institute where it was displayed for many years.

It was returned to Logan several years ago and is now part of a display in one of the museums on the Utah State University campus. The Boy Scouts built a monument of rocks on his grave and a new stone monument was later erected at the historical Old Ephraim grave site in Blacksmith Fork Canyon. It was dedicated on September 23, 1966.

Although the bear is dead, his memory lives on. Stories are told around campfires about this huge grizzly. And more than one Boy Scout will swear he heard the bruin snuffling around his tent during a scout camp-out." "

So, as my father and I were enjoying each others company, he said "just a minute" and went to his car. A short minute later, he returned with the coolest rifle I've ever put my hands on (admittedly a lot of nostalgia here).

According to my father, a close friend of his and a man I hold in the absolute highest regards (named Mark) had spent years working with Winchester to come up with the following gun to which my father acquired. It's a Winchester Model 1894 lever action that commemorates the 100th anniversary of Old Ephraim. It has a 20" round barrel, gold inlay on both sides of the action depicting the "scene" with Old Ephraim and Mr. Clark, a ladder rear sight, Marble Arms front sight, and Grade III/VI walnut stock and forearm, and the coolest part......chambered in .25-35 Winchester, the original medicine used on Old Ephraim. The only part of that gun not "as originally held by Mr. Clark" was the safety as it was not able to be replicated. Mark was even able to track down original pictures of Mr. Clark and the gun which beautifully adorn the box it came in.

I may have gotten some of this wrong, but I am definitley one jealous fellow. However, I am also an extremely lucky fellow. Lucky to have a father that took the time to introduce me to the outdoors and hunting. I look back at my life and, although pheasant, deer, and elk were all we hunted, it lit a spark inside of me that rages as a fire today. I have been fortunate enough to have hunted all over the world, and am passing that flame to my 4 sons, inspired by my father, and his before him.

To that end, have a wonderful and Happy Father's day to all - and to my pop, luv ya!

Screenshot_20230618_073040_Outlook.jpg
 
Thanks for the write up-best wishes on your upcoming safari!
 
This touches so many emotions. Excellent writing and best of luck for the upcoming safari.
 
Thanks for sharing your story, have a great and safe hunt
 
Great article. Reminds me of the movie Night of the Grizzly.

Hope you and your dad have a great time in Africa sharing and making new memories.
 
I was lucky enough to spend the day with my father yesterday at our cabin on Bear Lake built by him, his brothers and his father in the late 1960's. Most of our day was spent talking/dreaming about our SA hunt coming up in a couple of weeks. At 73, he's still going strong and we're looking at a fun month together hunting, traveling, and swapping stories all over SA.

Anyhoo, I grew up in Cache Valley Utah, before the piles of people (mostly "out-of-staters") and the curse/blessing/catch 22 of technology and social media. I still get a bit sad when I see developments where I used to shoot deer, elk, birds, and trap fuzzies as a young man. Being from that area, I was heavily involved in scouting, which included countless campfire nights in the woods eating s'mores, smiling, laughing, joking, and telling stories. One story, that had as many variations as has caused sleepless nights (Ghost Bear, Graw Bear, etc) is that of Old Ephraim. Old Ephraim was a grizzly that terrorized those hills (The Cache) for years, and as mentioned, was responsible for many sleepless nights.

The following is an article I enjoyed by Tammy Stephen's and published by The Herald Journal at hjnews.com.

" "Recent news stories about bears get people thinking about these bruins. Almost every summer it seems the news reports a story about someone in Yellowstone or Grand Teton National Parks being mauled by a grizzly. Stories around black bear sightings around Bear Lake are becoming more frequent every year, although most have not been substantiated.

Stories about bears are fun to listen to and an encounter with a bear would make for a very memorable vacation. However, none compare to the monster that terrorized an entire community more than 80 years ago.

This is the story of Old Ephraim, a bear who stood almost 10 feet tall and weighed a full 1,100 pounds. Old Ephraim’s statue can be seen in downtown Montpelier in Kings parking lot.

Old Ephraim roamed the Cache Nation Forest from about 1911 until his death on August 22, 1923. During his reign of terror, Old Ephraim killed hundreds of sheep and cattle, making life difficult for area ranchers.

Even with his massive size, Old Ephraim was sighted in daylight only two or three times over the years, but he left his distinctive tracks where he traveled. The bear had a deformed foot with only three toes on it, making it easier for anyone to recognize his mark.

Just like in the movies, however, this villain met his match in Frank Clark, an energetic, nature-loving man from Malad, Idaho. Clark herded sheep on the Cache Forest from 1911 to 1945, but history remembers him for a different deed.

During the summer of 1911, bears killed at least 154 sheep and maimed dozens more. This was a serious loss to the ranchers of the area and something needed to be done.

Clark helped out and in the next several years killed 50 bears. One bear, however, eluded him, for a while.

Like Captain Ahab in Moby Dick, Clark set out to find and kill his “white whale.” Unlike the good captain, however, Clark was not destroyed by his quarry.

By the early 1920s, Clark had become so familiar with Old Ephraim’s habits that he was certain he would be able to trap the monster. During the early summer of 1923, Clark set out a trap in one of the grizzly’s favorite wallows, but the wily bruin wasn’t going to be caught that easily.

Every time he found the trap, Ephraim either sprung it or simply picked it up and flung it into nearby bushes. This went on all summer until either Clark became smarter and was able to hide the trap better, or the bear just got careless.

In an excerpt from his own account about the incident, Clark wrote, “... I visited the trap and he had drummed the wallow into a newly built one, so I carefully changed the trap to his newly built bath. I was camped one mile down the canyon in a tent. That night was fine, beautiful, a starlit night, and I was sleeping fine when I was awakened by a roar and a groan near camp. I had a dog, but not a sound came from Mr. Dog. I tried to get to sleep, but no chance, so I got up and put on my shoes but no trousers. I did take the gun, a 25-.35 cal Carbine with seven steel ball cartridges, and walked up the trail. I did not know it was Eph’ In fact, I thought it was a horse that was down. Eph’ was in the creek in some wallows and after I had got past him, he let me know all at once that it was not a horse. What should I do? Alone, the closest human being three miles away and Eph’ between me and the camp.”

Clark decided to climb a hill and wait for the bear. When daylight came, the bear still had not shown himself, so Clark began throwing sticks in to the willows to scare him out. Ephraim slipped out and Clark tracked him close to his tent where he glimpsed a small patch of hide.

"I fired at it and grazed the shoulder. Now for me to get the greatest thrill of my life. Ephraim raised up on his hind legs with his back to me and a 14-foot, log chain wound around his right arm as carefully as a man would have done it, and a 23 pound bear trap on his foot, he turned around, and I saw the most magnificent sight that any man could ever see. I was paralyzed with fear and could not raise my gun. He was coming, still on his hind legs, holding that cussed trap above his head. I was rooted to the earth and let him come within six feet of me before I stuck the gun out and pulled the trigger. He fell back, but came again and received five of the remaining six bullets. He had now reached the trail, still on his hind legs. I only had one cartridge left in the gun and still that bear would not go down.”

Clark turned downhill and ran for 20 yards before looking back at the bear. Old Ephraim was still standing, but Jennie, Clark’s dog, was nipping at his heels. Clark turned to help Jennie, and the bear started toward the man.

“I could see that he was badly injured, as at each breath the blood would spurt from his nostrils, so I gave him the last bullet in the brain. I think I felt sorry I had to do it.”

After skinning the beast, Clark and another herder buried him. Not long after that, Boy Scout Troop No. 43, out of Logan, UT., dug up the body and the bear’s huge skull eventually found its way to the Smithsonian Institute where it was displayed for many years.

It was returned to Logan several years ago and is now part of a display in one of the museums on the Utah State University campus. The Boy Scouts built a monument of rocks on his grave and a new stone monument was later erected at the historical Old Ephraim grave site in Blacksmith Fork Canyon. It was dedicated on September 23, 1966.

Although the bear is dead, his memory lives on. Stories are told around campfires about this huge grizzly. And more than one Boy Scout will swear he heard the bruin snuffling around his tent during a scout camp-out." "

So, as my father and I were enjoying each others company, he said "just a minute" and went to his car. A short minute later, he returned with the coolest rifle I've ever put my hands on (admittedly a lot of nostalgia here).

According to my father, a close friend of his and a man I hold in the absolute highest regards (named Mark) had spent years working with Winchester to come up with the following gun to which my father acquired. It's a Winchester Model 1894 lever action that commemorates the 100th anniversary of Old Ephraim. It has a 20" round barrel, gold inlay on both sides of the action depicting the "scene" with Old Ephraim and Mr. Clark, a ladder rear sight, Marble Arms front sight, and Grade III/VI walnut stock and forearm, and the coolest part......chambered in .25-35 Winchester, the original medicine used on Old Ephraim. The only part of that gun not "as originally held by Mr. Clark" was the safety as it was not able to be replicated. Mark was even able to track down original pictures of Mr. Clark and the gun which beautifully adorn the box it came in.

I may have gotten some of this wrong, but I am definitley one jealous fellow. However, I am also an extremely lucky fellow. Lucky to have a father that took the time to introduce me to the outdoors and hunting. I look back at my life and, although pheasant, deer, and elk were all we hunted, it lit a spark inside of me that rages as a fire today. I have been fortunate enough to have hunted all over the world, and am passing that flame to my 4 sons, inspired by my father, and his before him.

To that end, have a wonderful and Happy Father's day to all - and to my pop, luv ya!

View attachment 540749
Nephi Bott was county commissioner and erecting the memorial for Old Ephraim was his baby. As was the memorial for the plane that went down up in Beaver Creek in ‘52 carrying soldiers home from the Korean War.
Ephraim’s memorial is not up Blacksmith Fork, it’s at the head of Long Hollow and can be accessed by the Mud Flat Road, or the Cowley Canyon Road up Logan canyon. The memorial supposedly is the same height as Ephraim was standing erect. It is humbling to stand next to it. I arrowed a 4 point bull at Ephraim spring in 1968 with a recurve bow I built in woodshop at Logan High School. Growing up in Cache Valley in the ‘50s and ‘60s was one of the greatest blessings a young man in America could have ever hoped for. My Grandfather ran the power plant at 2nd Dam in Logan canyon. I was actually born in his house at the power plant. He was an amazing fly fisherman and could catch any trout with two flies, a gray body yellow hackle, or a renegade and he made his own fly dope with gasoline and paraffin. Every time he cast a newly dressed fly in the water it would leave an oil slick
 
I grew up during the 80's and 90's there and also thought it was the best place to grow up (at least for that time period). Stories from my grandfather of 180" bucks being commonplace make me wish I grew up in the 50's and 60's as well. Woodshop for me was at RMMS and I could only make a clock back then.....lol. I grew up above 1st dam and fished it and Logan river a ton, but would fish second dam at every opportunity. I always felt it was better. Tougher, but more rewarding. I also spent numerous camping nights as a little kid (like 10 yo) at second dam. Many of them sleepless with that dang wind. . I love hunting the Cache and really miss it. IMHO, its sad to see what bonus points have done to hunting opportunity there. My largest bull came off the South as well. Super cool you got a bull off Ephraim spring, what an awesome memory.

To be fair to the author (who likely doesn't know the Cache like you and I may), if memory serves, you can get to the grave via Blacksmith Fork Canyon, up over Dip Hollow, but it's been a minute.

Awesome reply and memories Elmbow. Glad a few read this and hopefully enjoyed it. I was just dumping my thoughts as my family slept and I enjoyed a cup of coffee. Thanks!!!
 
Nephi Bott was county commissioner and erecting the memorial for Old Ephraim was his baby. As was the memorial for the plane that went down up in Beaver Creek in ‘52 carrying soldiers home from the Korean War.
Ephraim’s memorial is not up Blacksmith Fork, it’s at the head of Long Hollow and can be accessed by the Mud Flat Road, or the Cowley Canyon Road up Logan canyon. The memorial supposedly is the same height as Ephraim was standing erect. It is humbling to stand next to it. I arrowed a 4 point bull at Ephraim spring in 1968 with a recurve bow I built in woodshop at Logan High School. Growing up in Cache Valley in the ‘50s and ‘60s was one of the greatest blessings a young man in America could have ever hoped for. My Grandfather ran the power plant at 2nd Dam in Logan canyon. I was actually born in his house at the power plant. He was an amazing fly fisherman and could catch any trout with two flies, a gray body yellow hackle, or a renegade and he made his own fly dope with gasoline and paraffin. Every time he cast a newly dressed fly in the water it would leave an oil slick
One other quick note you may find interesting. My father told me some of the old pics on the Winchester box of Mr. Clark were provided by a member of the Goring family. You know the Cache, so you'll know the name.
 
I grew up during the 80's and 90's there and also thought it was the best place to grow up (at least for that time period). Stories from my grandfather of 180" bucks being commonplace make me wish I grew up in the 50's and 60's as well. Woodshop for me was at RMMS and I could only make a clock back then.....lol. I grew up above 1st dam and fished it and Logan river a ton, but would fish second dam at every opportunity. I always felt it was better. Tougher, but more rewarding. I also spent numerous camping nights as a little kid (like 10 yo) at second dam. Many of them sleepless with that dang wind. . I love hunting the Cache and really miss it. IMHO, its sad to see what bonus points have done to hunting opportunity there. My largest bull came off the South as well. Super cool you got a bull off Ephraim spring, what an awesome memory.

To be fair to the author (who likely doesn't know the Cache like you and I may), if memory serves, you can get to the grave via Blacksmith Fork Canyon, up over Dip Hollow, but it's been a minute.

Awesome reply and memories Elmbow. Glad a few read this and hopefully enjoyed it. I was just dumping my thoughts as my family slept and I enjoyed a cup of coffee. Thanks!!!
And thank you for posting it. I was a bit amazed to see it on AH. I’ll never hunt Africa but the forum is about the best hunting type forum on the web.
Ephraims grave via BF is a great way up, just a bit further.
Another story:
May of ‘75 I’m alone in my ‘62 Chev step side 2 wheel drive coming down from the Danish Dugway into Left Hand Fork heading for Blacksmith Fork pavement when I come to a spot where runoff had cut a chasm 12 ft deep and 20 ft across. I had just descended 200 yards of bushel basket sized boulders and I was quite literally going nowhere, neither down nor back up. I hiked down to the main road, thumbed it over to Tom Green’s place in Wellsville, ( he had the only tow truck in Cache Valley that was small enough to get back up there. He winched me up over the boulder stretch and charged me $150. This was 1975, that $150 hurt. In the ensuing 50 years I never take a vehicle into anything I know I can’t get back out of.
 
Thanks for sharing. Went to elementary school in Wellsville and my first rifle was a little Marlin 15YN “Little Buckaroo” that I bought at the Traders Den in Logan. My youngest son still shoots it.

We left when I was 10 and had the chance to move back when I was 16 but once they widened Sardine Canyon and opened the floodgates it really wasn’t the same place so we chose Montana instead.

My Grandmother finished her years in Nibley. Lots of good memories there! My Sister even did a big school project on Old Ephraim and I remember going to a bank in Logan to take pictures next to a statue of him.
 
While I am reminiscing I remembered that my family’s history in Cache Valley goes waaaay back. My mother is a Maughan and her great great great (not sure how many greats) grandfather was Peter Maughan that I understand was sent by Brigham Young to settle Cache Valley.

When you are in Bear Lake have a Raspberry milkshake for me please!
 

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