Branham Stories
The Bears And The Prophet's Molasses - Third Version
Reminds me of one time on this little fishing trip... I love to fish. And I was way up in northern Maine, or New Hampshire, the home of the white tailed deer. Lot of brook trout in there, and I packed back for three days with a pack on my back. And I had a little old rusty .22 rifle laying there, but I was fishing. And one morning early, I walked away from my little tent and went down there to cut some sticks so that the--that I could get my fly down in a nice hole there where I seen some fine trout. I thought, "I'll get some trout in there for dinner."
So I went down early and was cutting down some limbs; I got to fooling down around there, watching these trout and pitching them little bugs and watching them grab them and so forth. And I thought I better go back to my tent, maybe, and get me some breakfast.
So when I got back to the tent, there'd been an old mother bear and two cubs got in there. They had deliberately tore the thing to pieces. And there they was. And a bear, it isn't what he eats; it's what he tears up. He just get a stovepipe and just jump on it like that to hear it rattle. And he's just mischievous.
And these little cubbies, they're born in February; the mother knows nothing about it. They're just a little bitty thing like about like a rat when they're born. And the mother's sound asleep. But she produces milk for those until about the middle of May when the thaw comes, and then the bear's a pretty good size fellow when the mother sees him and he comes out. And then along this time of year, around June like this was, they're pretty good size bears, oh, something stand on all four, about this high, and standing up about...
So I happened to look, when I come up the old mother spotted me, and so she cooed to her cubs, cuffed one of them on the ear with her hand and run off. And she got over there, and one cub followed her, and the other one wouldn't. So she--she cooed... You have to know; they got like a little warble, like a bird. If you hear a bear, he doesn't act so bad as people says he does. And he was making a little noise, and he tried to get that other cub. Well, I seen this little old cub setting with his back turned. And I said, "What's the matter with that fellow?"
Well, she act like she was coming back. Well, she can climb better than I can. So I--I didn't want to--I didn't want to kill her (I had a hatchet in my hand.), and leave them orphans in the woods. So I thought, "Get away from here, fellow. So go on over there to your mammy." But he wasn't going. He was just going to set right there. So I didn't know what he was doing. And the mother cooed several other times and kept running around this other cub, and I see she was getting all worked up.
So I thought, "I'll see what's interesting that little fellow to hold his attention, even me a man standing here, and this axe in my hand, little chopping axe. And I said, "Wonder why he don't run?" Usually a bear will just take off. But I walked around to one side, and to my amazement, that was the cutest thing I ever seen.
You know, I--I like pancakes and molasses. I don't know whether you do. And when... I like plenty of molasses on my pancakes. And I'm a Baptist, you know, and I don't believe in sprinkling; I just pour it on real heavy. So I always take me a big bucket of molasses. And this old bear had got in there and got in my bucket of molasses. And he had that lid off it; he was setting down like this, with it all hugged in his arms, socking his little foot down and licking it. That's it. Well, I said, "Get away from there." And when he looked around, he couldn't see me; his eyes was all stuck from molasses; he looked at me like that, looked back and started sopping his little foot again till he cleaned that bucket out.
And I thought, "Brother, if that ain't an old time Pentecostal meeting he's having, I never seen one." Got his hand in the honey bucket come up to his arm like this, just sopping away, no condemnation at all, no fear, no nothing else. Only thing he's doing is sopping. And, oh, it tastes like honey in the rock. But the strange thing was, when he finally sopped the bucket out, and he went over there where his mammy was, his little brother and his mammy begin to lick him, getting some of the honey. Oh, it's wonderful. Notice, how marvelous"
