I was not impressed when I looked into her eyes for the first time. In fact, I dismissed her as simple-minded. She pretended that she was not interested in what I was doing. In the meantime, however, she was carefully watching my every move. In her dark eyes, there was a reflection of my hands opening and closing the hatch. Behind those eyes, there were well-oiled wheels craftily turning out an escape plan. I left the room after I thought she had fallen asleep. Then in the dark, when no one was watching her, her beady little eyes opened with a twinkle of mischief. She then climbed up to the hatch, pushing and pulling, and jerking on it as hard as she could; but her arms were not strong enough. Still, she struggled, “Why isn’t this thing opening?” she thought, desperately, “This is how he did it!” Outside I heard a faint commotion, her cage rattling, and I went to investigate. Light rushed into the room as I opened the door, catching her with a surprised expression on her face, and in the middle of one of her jerks. She grinned, in her way, carefully climbed down from the hatch, and then went back to bed, without uttering a sound. I had no idea that Black Bear Hamsters were so clever.