The name Ben Lilly evokes images of a bygone era, a time when the American West was still wild and untamed. A true original, he was one of the most remarkable hunters and enigmatic figures to roam the wilderness, leaving behind a legacy that continues to captivate. From the cascading notes of his hunting horn to the distinctive calls of his loyal pack of dogs, Lilly’s life was inextricably linked to the natural world. He was a man more comfortable in the silent embrace of the wild, with his faithful canines by his side, than amidst the conventions of civilization.
Born Benjamin Vernon Lilly, he emerged as one of the quintessential characters of a rapidly civilizing frontier. He embraced the rugged lifestyle of a mountain man, preferring the open sky as his roof and the earth as his bed, even when more comfortable accommodations were offered. His dedication to the hunt was legendary; he would relentlessly pursue a single elusive bear for hundreds of miles. Active from the 1870s until his passing in the late 1930s, Lilly was a profound anachronism—a man who steadfastly lived by the principles of an earlier time, often regarded as the last of his kind. He was an unrepentant atavist, a proud throwback who found meaning and heroism in archaic ways of being, deeming them more vital and tolerable than modern life.
The Philosophy of a Wilderness Dweller
Lilly was renowned for his extraordinary stamina, whether walking or running through rugged terrains. His approach to life was minimalist; he carried only the barest essentials: a surplus pack containing no more than a wool blanket and a worn canvas tarp. His philosophy, “Property is a handicap to man,” was not a political statement but a pragmatic guide for light travel and true liberty. Long before cultural movements advocating detachment from material possessions, Ben Lilly understood the importance of owning little so that possessions would not own him. He valued freedom and time above all, rejecting anything that demanded constant maintenance or a sedentary existence.
Lilly was a latter-day Daniel Boone, distinguished by his canvas pants, brogans, and characteristic coonskin cap. Armed with a Winchester 1886 or 1894 rifle and a formidable handmade knife, he perpetually sought new vistas and challenges. Paradoxically, his relentless hunting of formidable predators like lions and bears contributed to the very “civilization” he sought to escape. His legend endures among the rural communities of Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona, particularly within the Gila National Forest, where he spent much of his later life hunting. Generations continue to share his timeless tales, ensuring that the spirit of Ben Lilly lives on.
As chronicled in Frank Dobie’s The Legend of Ben Lilly, Lilly himself once remarked, “My reputation is bigger than I am. It is like a shadow when I stand in front of the sun in late evening.” This statement was not mere boasting but an acknowledgment of a profound inner calling he constantly heeded.
Ben Lilly’s Unconventional Nature and Contradictions
Some individuals are born to march to a different beat, charting a course divergent from the majority. They may be revered heroes, salty folk legends, forgotten renegades, or anonymous hermits. Like the Native American shamans who lived at the fringes of their communities, Lilly was such a fringe-dweller—authentic to a fault, closer in spirit to the wildlife he pursued than to the settled folk who admired him.
A Deep Spiritual Connection to the Land
His deeply held, archaic form of Christianity did not preclude drawing spiritual sustenance directly from the natural world. “I always sleep better [on the earth],” he stated, believing that “Something agreeable to my system seeps into it from the ground.” The ancient Greeks might have called this the “anima mundi,” the palpable energies of the planet itself, but for Lilly, it was simply an incomprehensible manifestation of an outdoor-loving God.
The land was, for Lilly, a bodily extension of his very being. Even as he made his living through killing, the heightened awareness demanded by the hunt deepened his appreciation and celebration of all life. He understood the vital roles of creatures like blue jays and tree squirrels as extensions of his own senses, alerting him to movements of both game and people. He learned to perceive through the ears of regional animal sentinels and the eyes of watchful birds. For Lilly, fields, hills, and hollers were more than scenic backdrops; they were an unfolding lesson, a book to be read and understood by anyone willing to pay attention. They represented a sermon, a solution, a challenge, and a reward.
“Every man and woman ought to get out and be with the elements a while every day,” Lilly advised. He believed the outdoors would awaken, instruct, and inspire, re-igniting intuition and instinct, stirring emotions, and reconnecting individuals to fundamental elements of life like hunger, food, weather, and fire. It would strengthen resolve and temper character. Lilly followed his own advice to the extreme, rarely venturing indoors except for provisions or a meal offered by a grateful rancher. Mabel Hudson of the old Hudson Ranch recounted how her parents once found him nestled among his dogs in a roadside ditch, offering him a room, to which he courteously replied, “Thank you, but I prefer to spend the night right here if that’s okay.”
Legendary Strength and Unvarnished Honesty
Perhaps a direct consequence of his extensive time in nature, Ben Lilly possessed an impressive physique and an unwavering determination. In his youth, he astonished locals with his unparalleled stamina and often performed feats of strength. One such demonstration involved lifting a giant anvil by its throat with a single hand. Frank Dobie recounts an instance when, uncharacteristically tired, Lilly struggled but persisted until blood burst from his fingertips. Old-time Catron County cowboy Lee Sturgeon shared a childhood memory of seeing Lilly carry a hunter client on his back across a swollen river. When the boys shouted for the client to dismount, the client replied he couldn’t, as Lilly held him in an iron grip, refusing to let go.
Lilly was also known for his blunt honesty. A story circulating among Catron hunting camps tells of a young boy asking Lilly if his dogs “never run deer,” a point of pride for bear and lion dog handlers. Most hunters would use this as an opportunity to brag, but not Ben Lilly. “I’ll tell you, son,” the old man replied, “sometimes they run them ragged!”
Though a perpetual wanderer, Lilly was never truly lost. He was, in fact, most found and affirmed within the thickets and brambles. He always traveled with purpose, whether following the baying of his dogs or the tracks of a bear. His path, though meandering, was a deliberate course away from settlements, crowds, niceties, and the responsibilities of domesticity. He constantly sought refuge and, perhaps, redemption in the wilderness.
Personal Life and the Call of the Wild
Driven by love, loneliness, or convention, Lilly attempted marriage twice, but domesticity proved to be a constraint rather than a comfort. For Lilly, “tying the knot” felt akin to being bound, his movements restricted and natural urges subdued. He married Lelia in Louisiana in the 1880s, a woman he later referred to as a “daughter of Gomorrah” due to her complaints about chores and his frequent absences. Despite his marital vows, he continued to follow the scent on the wind, the tracks on the ground, and the unsated hunger of his soul, often departing with a pack of twenty or more dogs for days, weeks, or even months at a time. The irresistible “call of the wild” always beckoned him away.
Dobie recounts an anecdote where Lelia asked him to shoot a troublesome chicken hawk. Lilly reappeared a year later, his only explanation being, “That hawk kept a-flyin’.” Mrs. Acklin, a general store proprietor in San Lorenzo, remembered Lilly’s stoic reaction to a letter from a grown child stating, “Mother died last week. She set a place at the table for you every meal” for sixteen years. This highlights the stark contrast between his devotion to the wild and his distant approach to familial obligations.
Lilly’s life was marked by profound contradictions. He cherished the attention of children, calling them “podnah,” yet he essentially left his own sons to be raised by their mother. He would entertain neighbors’ children with thrilling hunt stories while his own adjusted to their father’s absence. While righteous enough to never hunt or work on Sundays, he neglected his family and abandoned his first wife during deeply traumatic times, including the death of their young son. His leaving Lelia, who was already struggling, was undoubtedly a significant factor in her later institutionalization.
In 1890, Lilly remarried, this time to Mary, but again, family took a distant second place to his passion for the hunt and the solitude of the chase. Eleven years later, he again moved on, taking his dogs but not returning to his wife and three children. His loyalty was not to domestic life but to the freedom of an unfettered existence, free from rules or rent. His ultimate fealty lay with the rugged canyons, wide-open spaces, the baying of hounds, and trails scented with mountain lion.
The Master Hunter and His Tools
Despite being a prolific slayer of animals, Lilly held a deep, if unconventional, respect for nature and its inhabitants. His life was spent in the wilds, pursuing bears and other formidable creatures, fulfilling an ancient imperative that connected humanity to the natural world through risk and blood. He carried a large knife on his belt, easily accessible, much like a landlocked Ahab with his favored harpoon. A product of the passionate South, he, like James Bowie, often preferred a blade over a gun. His preferred method for dispatching a grounded bear was to close in and strike deep with his big knife, avoiding the risk of hitting his dogs amidst the raging bruin and making the encounter intensely personal.
Over the years, Lilly fashioned numerous “Lilly knives” from old tool steel, often gifting smaller ones to hospitable individuals he encountered. He forged a specialized dirk for bear hunting—a massive “Arkansas Toothpick” reportedly tempered in panther oil. This blade featured an exaggerated S-curve, similar to an Asiatic Kris, believed to enhance bleeding, and was sharpened on both sides for cutting in either direction.
Nevertheless, Lilly was also a tried-and-true rifleman, though he had no use for pistols or shotguns. He even used a rifle for hunting ducks, carefully shooting their heads to preserve the meat. While he likely used percussion arms in his youth and affordable cartridge guns as an adult, around the turn of the century, he began carrying a .30-30 for lighter game, often a Winchester or Marlin lever-action. He was photographed holding a Savage 1899, but for extended periods, his preferred weapon for large game was a powerful single-shot rifle.
Conclusion: The Enduring Legacy of Ben Lilly
Ben Lilly remains an iconic figure, embodying the spirit of a wild America that increasingly receded with the advent of civilization. His life was a testament to individuality, self-reliance, and an unparalleled connection to the untamed wilderness. He was a man of profound contradictions: a loving figure to children yet a distant father, a deeply spiritual man who lived by the ancient imperative of the hunt, and a minimalist who sought freedom from material possessions. Lilly’s dedication to his unique way of life, his legendary prowess as a bear hunter, and his unwavering adherence to his personal code cemented his place as an unforgettable character in the annals of American history. His story serves as a powerful reminder of the allure of the wild and the enduring appeal of those who dare to live outside the confines of societal norms, truly the last of their kind to fully embrace the call of the great outdoors.
