American Big Game in Its Haunts

The Book of the Boone and Crockett Club

EDITOR

GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL

1904

[Illustration: THEODORE ROOSEVELTFounder of the Boone and Crockett Club]

Contents

Theodore Roosevelt

Wilderness Reserves Theodore Roosevelt. 

The Zoology of North American Big Game Arthur Erwin Brown. 

Big Game Shooting in Alaska:

 I. Bear Hunting on Kadiak Island II. Bear Hunting on the Alaska Peninsula III. My Big Bear of Shuyak IV. The White Sheep of Kenai Peninsula. V. Hunting the Giant Moose James H. Kidder. 

The Kadiak Bear and his Home W. Lord Smith. 

The Mountain Sheep and its Range George Bird Grinnell. 

Preservation of the Wild Animals of North America Henry Fairfield Osborn. 

Distribution of the Moose Madison Grant. 

The Creating of Game Refuges Alden Sampson. 

Temiskaming Moose Paul J. Dashiell. 

Two Trophies from India John H. Prentice. 

Big-Game Refuges

Forest Reserves of North America

Appendix

Forest Reserves as Game Preserves E. W. Nelson. 

Constitution of the Boone and Crockett Club

Rules of the Committee on Admission

Former Officers of the Boone and Crockett Club

Officers of the Boone and Crockett Club

List of Members

List of Illustrations

Theodore Roosevelt

President Roosevelt and Major Pitcher

Tourists and Bears

"Oom John"

Prongbucks

Mountain Sheep

Deer on the Parade Ground

Whiskey Jacks

Wapiti in Deep Snow

Old Ephraim

Mountain Sheep at Close Quarters

Magpies

A Silhouette of Blacktail

Black Bears at Hotel Garbage Heap

Chambermaid and Bear

Cook and Bear

Bull Bison

Trophies from Alaska

Loaded Baidarka--Barabara--Base of Supplies, Alaska Peninsula

The Hunter and his Home

Baidarka

Heads of Dall's Sheep

My Best Head

St. Paul, Kadiak Island

Sunset in English Bay, Kadiak

Sitkalidak Island from Kadiak

A Kadiak Eagle

Bear Paths, Kadiak Island

Bear Paths, Kadiak Island

_Merycodus osborni_ Matthew

Yearling Moose

Maine Moose; about 1890

Moose Killed 1892, with Unusual Development of Brow Antlers

Alaska Moose Head, Showing Unusual Development of Antlers

"Bierstadt" Head, Killed 1880

Probably Largest Known Alaska Moose Head

Temiskaming Moose

Temiskaming Moose

Temiskaming Moose

Temiskaming Moose

A Kahrigur Tiger

Indian Leopard

The New Buffalo Herd in the Yellowstone Park

A Bit of Sheep Country

Mountain Sheep at Rest

Mule Deer at Fort Yellowstone

NOTE. --The four last illustrations are from photographs taken by MajorJohn Pitcher, Superintendent of the Yellowstone National Park, especially for this volume. 

Preface

Although the Boone and Crockett Club has not appeared largely in thepublic eye during recent years, its activities have not ceased. Thediscovery of gold in Alaska, and the extraordinary rush of population tothat northern territory had the usual effect on the wild life there, andproved very destructive to the natives and to the large mammals. A fewyears ago it became evident that the Kadiak bear and certain newlydiscovered forms of wild sheep and caribou were being destroyed bywholesale, and were actually threatened with extermination, and throughthe efforts of the Club, strongly backed by the Biological Survey of theDepartment of Agriculture, a bill was passed regulating the taking ofAlaska large game, and especially the exportation of heads, horns, andhides. The bill promises to afford sufficient protection to some ofthese rare boreal forms, though for others it perhaps comes too late. The enforcement of the law is in charge of the Treasury Department, andpermits for shooting and the export of trophies are issued by the Chiefof the Biological Survey. 

Although a local affair, yet of interest to the whole country, is theremarkable success of the New York Zoological Park, controlled andmanaged by the New York Zoological Society, brought into existencelargely through the efforts of Madison Grant, the present secretary ofthe Club. The Society has also recently taken over the care of the NewYork Aquarium. The Society is in a most flourishing condition, andthrough its extensive collections exerts an important educationalinfluence in a field in which popular interest is constantly growing. 

Under the administration of President Roosevelt, the good work ofnational forest preservation continues, and the time appears not fardistant when vast areas of the hitherto uncultivated West will proveadded sources of wealth to our country. 

The Club has for some time given much thoughtful attention to thesubject of game refuges--that is to say, areas where game shall beabsolutely free from interference or molestation, as it is to-day in theYellowstone Park--to be situated within the forest reserves; and as iselsewhere shown, it has investigated a number of the forest reserves inorder to learn something of their suitability for game refuges. Itappears certain that only by means of such refuges can some forms of ourlarge mammals be preserved from extinction. The first step to be takento bring about the establishment of these safe breeding grounds is tosecure legislation transferring the Bureau of Forestry from the LandOffice to the Department of Agriculture. After this shall have beenaccomplished, the question of establishing such game refuges mayproperly come before the officials of the Government for action. 

Among the notable articles in the present volume, one of the mostimportant is Mr. Roosevelt's account of his visit to the YellowstoneNational Park in April, 1903. The Park is an object lesson, showing veryclearly what complete game protection will do to perpetuate species, andMr. Roosevelt's account of what may be seen there is so convincing thatall who read it, and appreciate the importance of preserving our largemammals, must become advocates of the forest reserve game refuge system. 

Quite as interesting, in a different way, is Mr. Brown's contributionto the definition and the history of our larger North Americanmammals. To characterize these creatures in language "understanded ofthe people" is not easy, but Mr. Brown has made clear the zoologicalaffinities of the species, and has pointed out their probable origin. 

This is the fourth of the Boone and Crockett Club's books, and the firstto be signed by a single member of the editorial committee, one namewhich usually appears on the title page having been omitted for obviousreasons. The preceding volume--Trail and Camp Fire--was published in1897. 

GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL. 

NEW YORK, April 2, 1904. 

American Big Game in Its Haunts

[Illustration: Theodore Roosevelt]

[Illustration: President Roosevelt and Major Pitcher]

FOUNDER OF THE BOONE AND CROCKETT CLUB. 

It was at a dinner given to a few friends, who were also big-gamehunters, at his New York house, in December, 1887, that TheodoreRoosevelt first suggested the formation of the Boone and CrockettClub. The association was to be made up of men using the rifle inbig-game hunting, who should meet from time to time to discuss subjectsof interest to hunters. The idea was received with enthusiasm, and thepurposes and plans of the club were outlined at this dinner. 

Mr. Roosevelt was then eight years out of college, and had already madea local name for himself. Soon after graduation he had begun to displaythat energy which is now so well known; he had entered the politicalfield, and been elected member of the New York Legislature, where heserved from 1882 to 1884. His honesty and courage made his term ofservice one long battle, in which he fought with equal zeal the unworthymeasures championed by his own and the opposing political party. In 1886he had been an unsuccessful candidate for Mayor of New York, beingdefeated by Abram S. Hewitt. 

Up to the time of the formation of the Boone and Crockett Club, thepolitical affairs with which Mr. Roosevelt had concerned himself hadbeen of local importance, but none the less in the line of training formore important work; but his activities were soon to have a wider range. 

In 1889 the President of the United States appointed him member of theCivil Service Commission, where he served until 1895. In 1895 he wasappointed one of the Board of Police Commissioners of New York City, andbecame President of the Board, serving here until 1897. In 1897 he wasappointed Assistant Secretary of the Navy, and served for about a year, resigning in 1898 to raise the First United States VolunteerCavalry. The service done by the regiment--popularly called Roosevelt'sRough Riders--is sufficiently well known, and Mr. Roosevelt was promotedto a Colonelcy for conspicuous gallantry at the battle of LasGuasimas. At the close of the war with Spain, Mr. Roosevelt becamecandidate for Governor of New York. He was elected, and served untilDecember 31, 1900. In that year he was elected Vice-President of theUnited States on the ticket with Mr. McKinley, and on the death ofMr. McKinley, succeeded to the Presidential chair. 

Of the Presidents of the United States not a few have been sportsmen, and sportsmen of the best type. The love of Washington for gun and dog, his interest in fisheries, and especially his fondness for horse andhound, in the chase of the red fox, have furnished the theme for many awriter; and recently Mr. Cleveland and Mr. Harrison have been more orless celebrated in the newspapers, Mr. Harrison as a gunner, and Mr. Cleveland for his angling, as well as his duck shooting proclivities. 

It is not too much to say, however, that the chair of the chiefmagistrate has never been occupied by a sportsman whose range ofinterests was so wide, and so actively manifested, as in the case ofMr. Roosevelt. It is true that Mr. Harrison, Mr. Cleveland, andMr. McKinley did much in the way of setting aside forest reservations, but chiefly from economic motives; because they believed that theforests should be preserved, both for the timber that they might yield, if wisely exploited, and for their value as storage reservoirs for thewaters of our rivers. 

The view taken by Mr. Roosevelt is quite different. To him theeconomics of the case appeal with the same force that they might havefor any hard-headed, common sense business American; but beyond this, and perhaps, if the secrets of his heart were known, more than this, Mr. Roosevelt is influenced by a love of nature, which, thoughconsidered sentimental by some, is, in fact, nothing more than afar-sightedness, which looks toward the health, happiness, and generalwell-being of the American race for the future. 

As a boy Mr. Roosevelt was fortunate in having a strong love for natureand for outdoor life, and, as in the case of so many boys, this lovetook the form of an interest in birds, which found its outlet instudying and collecting them. He published, in 1877, a list of thesummer birds of the Adirondacks, in Franklin county, New York, and alsodid more or less collecting of birds on Long Island. The result of allthis was the acquiring of some knowledge of the birds of eastern NorthAmerica, and, what was far more important, a knowledge of how toobserve, and an appreciation of the fact that observations, to be of anyscientific value, must be definite and precise. 

In the many hunting tales that we have had from his pen in recent years, it is seen that these two pieces of most important instruction acquiredby the boy have always been remembered, and for this reason his books ofhunting and adventure have a real value--a worth not shared by many ofthose published on similar subjects. His hunting adventures have notbeen mere pleasure excursions. They have been of service to science. Onone of his hunts, perhaps his earliest trip after white goats, hesecured a second specimen of a certain tiny shrew, of which, up to thattime, only the type was known. Much more recently, during a declaredhunting trip in Colorado, he collected the best series of skins of theAmerican panther, with the measurements taken in the flesh, that hasever been gathered from one locality by a single individual. 

Mr. Roosevelt's hunting experiences have been so wide as to have coveredalmost every species of North American big game found within thetemperate zone. Except such Arctic forms as the white and the Alaskabears, and the muskox, there is, perhaps, no species of North Americangame that he has not killed; and his chapter on the mountain sheep, inhis book, "Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail, " is confessedly the bestpublished account of that species. 

During the years that Mr. Roosevelt was actually engaged in the cattlebusiness in North Dakota, his everyday life led him constantly to thehaunts of big game, and, almost in spite of himself, gave him constanthunting opportunities. Besides that, during dull seasons of the year, he made trips to more or less distant localities in search of thespecies of big game not found immediately about his ranch. His mode ofhunting and of traveling was quite different from that now in vogueamong big-game hunters. His knowledge of the West was early enough totouch upon the time when each man was as good as his neighbor, and themere fact that a man was paid wages to perform certain acts for you didnot in any degree lower his position in the world, nor elevate yours. In those days, if one started out with a companion, hired or otherwise, to go to a certain place, or to do a certain piece of work, each man wasexpected to perform his share of the labor. 

This fact Mr. Roosevelt recognized as soon as he went West, and, actingupon it, he made for himself a position as a man, and not as a master, which he has never lost; and it is precisely this democratic spiritwhich to-day makes him perhaps the most popular man in the United Statesat large. 

Starting off, then, on some trip of several hundred miles, with acompanion who might be guide, helper, cook, packer, or whatnot--sometimes efficient, and the best companion that could be desired, at others, perhaps, hopelessly lazy and worthless, and even with a stockof liquor cached somewhere in the packs--Mr. Roosevelt helped to packthe horses, to bring the wood, to carry the water, to cook the food, towrangle the stock, and generally to do the work of the camp, or of thetrail, so long as any of it remained undone. His energy wasindefatigable, and usually he infected his companion with his ownenthusiasm and industry, though at times he might have with him a manwhom nothing could move. It is largely to this energy and thisdetermination that he owes the good fortune that has usually attendedhis hunting trips. 

As the years have gone on, fortunes have changed; and as duties of onekind and another have more and more pressed upon him, Mr. Roosevelt hasdone less and less hunting; yet his love for outdoor life is as keen asever, and as Vice-President of the United States, he made hiswell-remembered trip to Colorado after mountain lions, while morerecently he hunted black bears in the Mississippi Valley, and still morelately killed a wild boar in the Austin Corbin park in New Hampshire. 

Mr. Roosevelt's accession to the Presidential chair has been a greatthing for good sportsmanship in this country. Measures pertaining togame and forest protection, and matters of sport generally, always havehad, and always will have, his cordial approval and co-operation. He isheartily in favor of the forest reserves, and of the project forestablishing, within these reserves, game refuges, where no huntingwhatever shall be permitted. Aside from his love for nature, and hiswish to have certain limited areas remain in their natural condition, absolutely untouched by the ax of the lumberman, and unimproved by thework of the forester, is that broader sentiment in behalf of humanity inthe United States, which has led him to declare that such refuges shouldbe established for the benefit of the man of moderate means and the poorman, whose opportunities to hunt and to see game are few and farbetween. In a public speech he has said, in substance, that the rich andthe well-to-do could take care of themselves, buying land, fencing it, and establishing parks and preserves of their own, where they might lookupon and take pleasure in their own game, but that such a course was notwithin the power of the poor man, and that therefore the Governmentmight fitly intervene and establish refuges, such as indicated, for thebenefit and the pleasure of the whole people. 

In April, 1903, the President made a trip to the Yellowstone Park, andthere had an opportunity to see wild game in such a forest refuge, living free and without fear of molestation. Long before thisMr. Roosevelt had expressed his approval of the plan, but his own eyeshad never before seen precisely the results accomplished by such arefuge. In 1903 he was able to contrast conditions in the YellowstonePark with those of former years when he had passed through it and hadhunted on its borders, and what he saw then more than ever confirmed hisprevious conclusions. 

Although politics have taken up a large share of Mr. Roosevelt's life, they represent only one of his many sides. He has won fame as ahistorical writer by such books as "The Winning of the West, " "Life ofGouverneur Morris, " "Life of Thomas Hart Benton, " "The Naval War of1812, " "History of New York, " "American Ideals and Other Essays, " and"Life of Cromwell. " Besides these, he has written "The Strenuous Life, "and in somewhat lighter vein, his "Wilderness Hunter, " "Hunting Trips ofa Ranchman, " "Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail, " and "The Rough Riders"deal with sport, phases of nature and life in the wild country. For manyyears he was on the editorial committee of the Boone and Crockett Club, and edited its publications, "American Big Game Hunting, " "Hunting inMany Lands, " and "Trail and Camp Fire. "

Mr. Roosevelt was the first president of the Boone and Crockett Club, and continues actively interested in its work. He was succeeded in thepresidency of the Club by the late Gen. B. H. Bristow. 

[Illustration: Tourists and Bears]

Wilderness Reserves

The practical common sense of the American people has been in no waymade more evident during the last few years than by the creation and useof a series of large land reserves--situated for the most part on thegreat plains and among the mountains of the West--intended to keep theforests from destruction, and therefore to conserve the watersupply. These reserves are created purely for economic purposes. Thesemi-arid regions can only support a reasonable population underconditions of the strictest economy and wisdom in the use of the watersupply, and in addition to their other economic uses the forests areindispensably necessary for the preservation of the water supply and forrendering possible its useful distribution throughout the properseasons. In addition, however, to the economic use of the wilderness bypreserving it for such purposes where it is unsuited for agriculturaluses, it is wise here and there to keep selected portions of it--ofcourse only those portions unfit for settlement--in a state of nature, not merely for the sake of preserving the forests and the water, but forthe sake of preserving all its beauties and wonders unspoiled by greedyand shortsighted vandalism. These beauties and wonders include animateas well as inanimate objects. The wild creatures of the wilderness addto it by their presence a charm which it can acquire in no other way. Onevery ground it is well for our nation to preserve, not only for thesake of this generation, but above all for the sake of those who comeafter us, representatives of the stately and beautiful haunters of thewilds which were once found throughout our great forests, over the vastlonely plains, and on the high mountain ranges, but which are now on thepoint of vanishing save where they are protected in natural breedinggrounds and nurseries. The work of preservation must be carried on insuch a way as to make it evident that we are working in the interest ofthe people as a whole, not in the interest of any particular class; andthat the people benefited beyond all others are those who dwell nearestto the regions in which the reserves are placed. The movement for thepreservation by the nation of sections of the wilderness as nationalplaygrounds is essentially a democratic movement in the interest of allour people. 

[Illustration: "OOM JOHN. "]

On April 8, 1903, John Burroughs and I reached the Yellowstone Park andwere met by Major John Pitcher of the Regular Army, the Superintendentof the Park. The Major and I forthwith took horses; he telling me thathe could show me a good deal of game while riding up to his house at theMammoth Hot Springs. Hardly had we left the little town of Gardiner andgotten within the limits of the Park before we saw prong-buck. Therewas a band of at least a hundred feeding some distance from the road. Werode leisurely toward them. They were tame compared to their kindred inunprotected places; that is, it was easy to ride within fair rifle rangeof them; but they were not familiar in the sense that we afterwordsfound the bighorn and the deer to be familiar. During the two hoursfollowing my entry into the Park we rode around the plains and lowerslopes of the foothills in the neighborhood of the mouth of the Gardinerand we saw several hundred--probably a thousand all told--of theseantelope. Major Pitcher informed me that all the prong-horns in thePark wintered in this neighborhood. Toward the end of April or thefirst of May they migrate back to their summering homes in the openvalleys along the Yellowstone and in the plains south of the GoldenGate. While migrating they go over the mountains and through forests ifoccasion demands. Although there are plenty of coyotes in the Park thereare no big wolves, and save for very infrequent poachers the only enemyof the antelope, as indeed the only enemy of all the game, is thecougar. 

Cougars, known in the Park as elsewhere through the West as "mountainlions, " are plentiful, having increased in numbers of recent years. Except in the neighborhood of the Gardiner River, that is within a fewmiles of Mammoth Hot Springs, I found them feeding on elk, which in thePark far outnumber all other game put together, being so numerous thatthe ravages of the cougars are of no real damage to the herds. But inthe neighborhood of the Mammoth Hot Springs the cougars are noxiousbecause of the antelope, mountain sheep and deer which they kill; andthe Superintendent has imported some hounds with which to huntthem. These hounds are managed by Buffalo Jones, a famous old plainsman, who is now in the Park taking care of the buffalo. On this first day ofmy visit to the Park I came across the carcasses of a deer and of anantelope which the cougars had killed. On the great plains cougarsrarely get antelope, but here the country is broken so that the big catscan make their stalks under favorable circumstances. To deer andmountain sheep the cougar is a most dangerous enemy--much more so thanthe wolf. 

[Illustration: Prongbucks]

The antelope we saw were usually in bands of from twenty to one hundredand fifty, and they traveled strung out almost in single file, thoughthose in the rear would sometimes bunch up. I did not try to stalk them, but got as near them as I could on horseback. The closest approach I wasable to make was to within about eighty yards on two which were bythemselves--I think a doe and a last year's fawn. As I was riding up tothem, although they looked suspiciously at me, one actually laydown. When I was passing them at about eighty yards distance the big onebecame nervous, gave a sudden jump, and away the two went at full speed. 

Why the prone bucks were so comparatively shy I do not know, for righton the ground with them we came upon deer, and, in the immediateneighborhood, mountain sheep, which were absurdly tame. The mountainsheep were nineteen in number, for the most part does and yearlings witha couple of three-year-old rams, but not a single big fellow--for thebig fellows at this season are off by themselves, singly or in littlebunches, high up in the mountains. The band I saw was tame to a degreematched by but few domestic animals. 

They were feeding on the brink of a steep washout at the upper edge ofone of the benches on the mountain side just below where the abruptslope began. They were alongside a little gully with sheer walls. I rodemy horse to within forty yards of them, one of them occasionally lookingup and at once continuing to feed. Then they moved slowly off andleisurely crossed the gully to the other side. I dismounted, walkedaround the head of the gully, and moving cautiously, but in plain sight, came closer and closer until I was within twenty yards, where I sat downon a stone and spent certainly twenty minutes looking at them. Theypaid hardly any attention whatever to my presence--certainly no morethan well-treated domestic creatures would pay. One of the rams rose onhis hind legs, leaning his fore-hoofs against a little pine tree, andbrowsed the ends of the budding branches. The others grazed on the shortgrass and herbage or lay down and rested--two of the yearlings severaltimes playfully butting at one another. Now and then one would glance inmy direction without the slightest sign of fear--barely even ofcuriosity. I have no question whatever but that with a little patiencethis particular band could be made to feed out of a man's hand. MajorPitcher intends during the coming winter to feed them alfalfa--for gameanimals of several kinds have become so plentiful in the neighborhood ofthe Hot Springs, and the Major has grown so interested in them, that hewishes to do something toward feeding them during the severe winter. After I had looked at the sheep to my heart's content, I walked back tomy horse, my departure arousing as little interest as my advent. 

[Illustration: MOUNTAIN SHEEP. ]

Soon after leaving them we began to come across black-tail deer, singly, in twos and threes, and in small bunches of a dozen or so. They werealmost as tame as the mountain sheep, but not quite. That is, theyalways looked alertly at me, and though if I stayed still they wouldgraze, they kept a watch over my movements and usually moved slowly offwhen I got within less than forty yards of them. Up to that distance, whether on foot or on horseback, they paid but little heed to me, and onseveral occasions they allowed me to come much closer. Like the bighorn, the black-tails at this time were grazing, not browsing; but Ioccasionally saw them nibble some willow buds. During the winter theyhad been browsing. As we got close to the Hot Springs we came acrossseveral white-tail in an open, marshy meadow. 

They were not quite as tame as the black-tail, although without anydifficulty I walked up to within fifty yards of them. Handsome thoughthe black-tail is, the white-tail is the most beautiful of all deer whenin motion, because of the springy, bounding grace of its trot andcanter, and the way it carries its head and white flag aloft. 

Before reaching the Mammoth Hot Springs we also saw a number of ducks inthe little pools and on the Gardiner. Some of them were rather shy. Others--probably those which, as Major Pitcher informed me, had spentthe winter there--were as tame as barnyard fowls. 

[Illustration: DEER ON THE PARADE GROUND. ]

Just before reaching the post the Major took me into the big field whereBuffalo Jones had some Texas and Flat Head Lake buffalo--bulls andcows--which he was tending with solicitous care. The original stock ofbuffalo in the Park have now been reduced to fifteen or twentyindividuals, and the intention is to try to mix them with the score ofbuffalo which have been purchased out of the Flat Head Lake and TexasPanhandle herds. The buffalo were put within a wire fence, which, whenit was built, was found to have included both black-tail and white-taildeer. A bull elk was also put in with them at one time--he having metwith some accident which made the Major and Buffalo Jones bring him into doctor him. When he recovered his health he became very cross. Notonly would he attack men, but also buffalo, even the old and surlymaster bull, thumping them savagely with his antlers if they didanything to which he objected. When I reached the post and dismountedat the Major's house, I supposed my experiences with wild beasts for theday were ended; but this was an error. The quarters of the officers andmen and the various hotel buildings, stables, residences of the civilianofficials, etc. , almost completely surround the big parade ground at thepost, near the middle of which stands the flag-pole, while the gun usedfor morning and evening salutes is well off to one side. There are largegaps between some of the buildings, and Major Pitcher informed me thatthroughout the winter he had been leaving alfalfa on the parade grounds, and that numbers of black-tail deer had been in the habit of visiting itevery day, sometimes as many as seventy being on the parade ground atonce. As springtime came on the numbers diminished. However, inmid-afternoon, while I was writing in my room in Major Pitcher's house, on looking out of the window I saw five deer on the parade ground. Theywere as tame as so many Alderney cows, and when I walked out I got up towithin twenty yards of them without any difficulty. It was most amusingto see them as the time approached for the sunset gun to be fired. Thenotes of the trumpeter attracted their attention at once. They alllooked at him eagerly. One then resumed feeding, and paid no attentionwhatever either to the bugle, the gun or the flag. The other four, however, watched the preparations for firing the gun with an intentgaze, and at the sound of the report gave two or three jumps; theninstantly wheeling, looked up at the flag as it came down. This theyseemed to regard as something rather more suspicious than the gun, andthey remained very much on the alert until the ceremony was over. Onceit was finished, they resumed feeding as if nothing had happened. Beforeit was dark they trotted away from the parade ground back to themountains. 

The next day we rode off to the Yellowstone River, camping some milesbelow Cottonwood Creek. It was a very pleasant camp. Major Pitcher, anold friend, had a first-class pack train, so that we were as comfortableas possible, and on such a trip there could be no pleasanter or moreinteresting companion than John Burroughs--"Oom John, " as we soon grewto call him. Where our tents were pitched the bottom of the valley wasnarrow, the mountains rising steep and cliff-broken on eitherside. There were quite a number of black-tail in the valley, which weretame and unsuspicious, although not nearly as much so as those in theimmediate neighborhood of the Mammoth Hot Springs. One mid-afternoonthree of them swam across the river a hundred yards above our camp. Butthe characteristic animals of the region were the elk--the wapiti. Theywere certainly more numerous than when I was last through the Parktwelve years before. 

[Illustration: WHISKEY JACKS. ]

In the summer the elk spread all over the interior of the Park. Aswinter approaches they divide, some going north and others south. Thesouthern bands, which, at a guess, may possibly include ten thousandindividuals, winter out of the Park, for the most part in Jackson'sHole--though of course here and there within the limits of the Park afew elk may spend both winter and summer in an unusually favorablelocation. It was the members of the northern band that I met. Duringthe winter time they are very stationary, each band staying within avery few miles of the same place, and from their size and the opennature of their habitat it is almost as easy to count them as if theywere cattle. From a spur of Bison Peak one day, Major Pitcher, the guideElwood Hofer, John Burroughs and I spent about four hours with theglasses counting and estimating the different herds within sight. Aftermost careful work and cautious reduction of estimates in each case tothe minimum the truth would permit, we reckoned three thousand head ofelk, all lying or feeding and all in sight at the same time. An estimateof some fifteen thousand for the number of elk in these northern bandscannot be far wrong. These bands do not go out of the Park at all, butwinter just within its northern boundary. At the time when we saw them, the snow had vanished from the bottom of the valleys and the lowerslopes of the mountains, but grew into continuous sheets further uptheir sides. The elk were for the most part found up on the snow slopes, occasionally singly or in small gangs--more often in bands of from fiftyto a couple of hundred. The larger bulls were highest up the mountainsand generally in small troops by themselves, although occasionally oneor two would be found associating with a big herd of cows, yearlings, and two-year-olds. Many of the bulls had shed their antlers; many hadnot. During the winter the elk had evidently done much browsing, but atthis time they were grazing almost exclusively, and seemed by preferenceto seek out the patches of old grass which were last left bare by theretreating snow. The bands moved about very little, and if one wereseen one day it was generally possible to find it within a few hundredyards of the same spot the next day, and certainly not more than a mileor two off. There were severe frosts at night, and occasionally lightflurries of snow; but the hardy beasts evidently cared nothing for anybut heavy storms, and seemed to prefer to lie in the snow rather thanupon the open ground. They fed at irregular hours throughout the day, just like cattle; one band might be lying down while another wasfeeding. While traveling they usually went almost in singlefile. Evidently the winter had weakened them, and they were not incondition for running; for on the one or two occasions when I wanted tosee them close up I ran right into them on horseback, both on levelplains and going up hill along the sides of rather steep mountains. Oneband in particular I practically rounded up for John Burroughs--finallygetting them to stand in a huddle while he and I sat on our horses lessthan fifty yards off. After they had run a little distance they openedtheir mouths wide and showed evident signs of distress. 

[Illustration: WAPITI IN DEEP SNOW. ]

We came across a good many carcasses. Two, a bull and a cow, had diedfrom scab. Over half the remainder had evidently perished from cold orstarvation. The others, including a bull, three cows and a score ofyearlings, had been killed by cougars. In the Park the cougar is atpresent their only animal foe. The cougars were preying on nothing butelk in the Yellowstone Valley, and kept hanging about the neighborhoodof the big bands. Evidently they usually selected some outlyingyearling, stalked it as it lay or as it fed, and seized it by the headand throat. The bull which they killed was in a little open valley byhimself, many miles from any other elk. The cougar which killed it, judging from its tracks, was a very large male. As the elk wereevidently rather too numerous for the feed, I do not think the cougarswere doing any damage. 

[Illustration: OLD EPHRAIM. ]

Coyotes are plentiful, but the elk evidently have no dread of them. Oneday I crawled up to within fifty yards of a band of elk lying down. Acoyote was walking about among them, and beyond an occasional look theypaid no heed to him. He did not venture to go within fifteen or twentypaces of any one of them. In fact, except the cougar, I saw but oneliving thing attempt to molest the elk. This was a golden eagle. We sawseveral of these great birds. On one occasion we had ridden out to thefoot of a great sloping mountain side, dotted over with bands andstrings of elk amounting in the aggregate probably to a thousandhead. Most of the bands were above the snow line--some appearing awayback toward the ridge crests, and looking as small as mice. There wasone band well below the snow line, and toward this we rode. While theelk were not shy or wary, in the sense that a hunter would use thewords, they were by no means as familiar as the deer; and thisparticular band of elk, some twenty or thirty in all, watched us withinterest as we approached. When we were still half a mile off theysuddenly started to run toward us, evidently frightened by something. They ran quartering, and when about four hundred yards away we saw thatan eagle was after them. Soon it swooped, and a yearling in the rear, weakly, and probably frightened by the swoop, turned a completesomersault, and when it recovered its feet, stood still. The great birdfollowed the rest of the band across a little ridge, beyond which theydisappeared. Then it returned, soaring high in the heavens, and aftertwo or three wide circles, swooped down at the solitary yearling, itslegs hanging down. We halted at two hundred yards to see the end. Butthe eagle could not quite make up its mind to attack. Twice it hoveredwithin a foot or two of the yearling's head--again flew off and againreturned. Finally the yearling trotted off after the rest of the band, and the eagle returned to the upper air. Later we found the carcass of ayearling, with two eagles, not to mention ravens and magpies, feeding onit; but I could not tell whether they had themselves killed the yearlingor not. 

Here and there in the region where the elk were abundant we came uponhorses which for some reason had been left out through the winter. Theywere much wilder than the elk. Evidently the Yellowstone Park is anatural nursery and breeding ground of the elk, which here, as saidabove, far outnumber all the other game put together. In the winter, ifthey cannot get to open water, they eat snow; but in several placeswhere there had been springs which kept open all winter, we could see bythe tracks they had been regularly used by bands of elk. The men workingat the new road along the face of the cliffs beside the YellowstoneRiver near Tower Falls informed me that in October enormous droves ofelk coming from the interior of the Park and traveling northward to thelower lands had crossed the Yellowstone just above Tower Falls. Judgingby their description the elk had crossed by thousands in anuninterrupted stream, the passage taking many hours. In fact nowadaysthese Yellowstone elk are, with the exception of the Arctic caribou, theonly American game which at times travel in immense droves like thebuffalo of the old days. 

A couple of days after leaving Cottonwood Creek--where we had spentseveral days--we camped at the Yellowstone Canon below Tower Falls. Herewe saw a second band of mountain sheep, numbering only eight--none ofthem old rams. We were camped on the west side of the canon; the sheephad their abode on the opposite side, where they had spent thewinter. It has recently been customary among some authorities, especially the English hunters and naturalists who have written of theAsiatic sheep, to speak as if sheep were naturally creatures of theplains rather than mountain climbers. I know nothing of old world sheep, but the Rocky Mountain bighorn is to the full as characteristic amountain animal, in every sense of the word, as the chamois, and, Ithink, as the ibex. These sheep were well known to the road builders, who had spent the winter in the locality. They told me they never wentback on the plains, but throughout the winter had spent their days andnights on the top of the cliff and along its face. This cliff was analternation of sheer precipices and very steep inclines. When coatedwith ice it would be difficult to imagine an uglier bit of climbing; butthroughout the winter, and even in the wildest storms, the sheep hadhabitually gone down it to drink at the water below. When we first sawthem they were lying sunning themselves on the edge of the canyon, wherethe rolling grassy country behind it broke off into the sheerdescent. It was mid-afternoon and they were under some pines. After awhile they got up and began to graze, and soon hopped unconcernedly downthe side of the cliff until they were half way to the bottom. They thengrazed along the sides, and spent some time licking at a place wherethere was evidently a mineral deposit. Before dark they all lay downagain on a steeply inclined jutting spur midway between the top andbottom of the canyon. 

[Illustration: MOUNTAIN SHEEP AT CLOSE QUARTERS. ]

Next morning I thought I would like to see them close up, so I walkeddown three or four miles below where the canyon ended, crossed thestream, and came up the other side until I got on what was literally thestamping ground of the sheep. Their tracks showed that they had spenttheir time for many weeks, and probably for all the winter, within avery narrow radius. For perhaps a mile and a half, or two miles at thevery outside, they had wandered to and fro on the summit of the canyon, making what was almost a well-beaten path; always very near and usuallyon the edge of the cliff, and hardly ever going more than a few yardsback into the grassy plain-and-hill country. Their tracks and dungcovered the ground. They had also evidently descended into the depths ofthe canon wherever there was the slightest break or even lowering in theupper line of basalt cliffs. Although mountain sheep often browse inwinter, I saw but few traces of browsing here; probably on the sheercliff side they always got some grazing. When I spied the band theywere lying not far from the spot in which they had lain the day before, and in the same position on the brink of the canon. They saw me andwatched me with interest when I was two hundred yards off, but they letme get up within forty yards and sit down on a large stone to look atthem, without running off. Most of them were lying down, but a couplewere feeding steadily throughout the time I watched them. Suddenly onetook the alarm and dashed straight over the cliff, the others allfollowing at once. I ran after them to the edge in time to see the lastyearling drop off the edge of the basalt cliff and stop short on thesheer slope below, while the stones dislodged by his hoofs rattled downthe canon. They all looked up at me with great interest and thenstrolled off to the edge of a jutting spur and lay down almost directlyunderneath me and some fifty yards off. That evening on my return tocamp we watched the band make its way right down to the river bed, goingover places where it did not seem possible a four-footed creature couldpass. They halted to graze here and there, and down the worst placesthey went very fast with great bounds. It was a marvelous exhibition ofclimbing. 

After we had finished this horseback trip we went on sleds and skis tothe upper Geyser Basin and the Falls of the Yellowstone. Although it wasthe third week in April, the snow was still several feet deep, and onlythoroughly trained snow horses could have taken the sleighs along, whilearound the Yellowstone Falls it was possible to move only onsnowshoes. There was very little life in those woods. We saw anoccasional squirrel, rabbit or marten; and in the open meadows aroundthe hot waters there were geese and ducks, and now and then acoyote. Around camp Clark's crows and Stellar's jays, and occasionallymagpies came to pick at the refuse; and of course they were accompaniedby the whiskey acks with their usual astounding familiarity. At NorrisGeyser Basin there was a perfect chorus of bird music from robins, purple finches, uncos and mountain bluebirds. In the woods there weremountain chickadees and nuthatches of various kinds, together with anoccasional woodpecker. In the northern country we had come across a veryfew blue grouse and ruffed grouse, both as tame as possible. We had seena pigmy owl no larger than a robin sitting on top of a pine in broaddaylight, and uttering at short intervals a queer un-owllike cry. 

[Illustration: MAGPIES. ]

The birds that interested us most were the solitaires, and especiallythe dippers or water-ousels. We were fortunate enough to hear thesolitaires sing not only when perched on trees, but on the wing, soaringover a great canon. The dippers are to my mind well-nigh the mostattractive of all our birds. They stay through the winter in theYellowstone because the waters are in many places open. We heard themsinging cheerfully, their ringing melody having a certain suggestion ofthe winter wren's. Usually they sang while perched on some rock on theedge or in the middle of the stream; but sometimes on the wing. In theopen places the western meadow larks were also uttering their singularbeautiful songs. No bird escaped John Burroughs' eye; no bird noteescaped his ear. 

On the last day of my stay it was arranged that I should ride down fromMammoth Hot Springs to the town of Gardiner, just outside the Parklimits, and there make an address at the laying of the corner stone ofthe arch by which the main road is to enter the Park. Some threethousand people had gathered to attend the ceremonies. A little over amile from Gardiner we came down out of the hills to the flat plain; fromthe hills we could see the crowd gathered around the arch waiting for meto come. We put spurs to our horses and cantered rapidly toward theappointed place, and on the way we passed within forty yards of a scoreof black-tails, which merely moved to one side and looked at us, andwithin a hundred yards of half a dozen antelope. To any lover of natureit could not help being a delightful thing to see the wild and timidcreatures of the wilderness rendered so tame; and their tameness in theimmediate neighborhood of Gardiner, on the very edge of the Park, spokevolumes for the patriotic good sense of the citizens of Montana. MajorPitcher informed me that both the Montana and Wyoming people wereco-operating with him in zealous fashion to preserve the game and put astop to poaching. For their attitude in this regard they deserve thecordial thanks of all Americans interested in these great popularplaygrounds, where bits of the old wilderness scenery and the oldwilderness life are to be kept unspoiled for the benefit of ourchildren's children. Eastern people, and especially eastern sportsmen, need to keep steadily in mind the fact that the westerners who live inthe neighborhood of the forest preserves are the men who in the lastresort will determine whether or not these preserves are to bepermanent. They cannot in the long run be kept as forest and gamereservations unless the settlers roundabout believe in them and heartilysupport them; and the rights of these settlers must be carefullysafeguarded, and they must be shown that the movement is really in theirinterest. The eastern sportsman who fails to recognize these facts cando little but harm by advocacy of forest reserves. 

[Illustration: A SILHOUETTE OF BLACKTAIL. ]

It was in the interior of the Park, at the hotels beside the lake, thefalls, and the various geyser basins, that we would have seen the bearshad the season been late enough; but unfortunately the bears were stillfor the most part hibernating. We saw two or three tracks, and found oneplace where a bear had been feeding on a dead elk, but the animalsthemselves had not yet begun to come about the hotels. Nor were thehotels open. No visitors had previously entered the Park in the winteror early spring--the scouts and other employees being the only ones whooccasionally traverse it. I was sorry not to see the bears, for theeffect of protection upon bear life in the Yellowstone has been one ofthe phenomena of natural history. Not only have they grown to realizethat they are safe, but, being natural scavengers and foul feeders, theyhave come to recognize the garbage heaps of the hotels as their specialsources of food supply. Throughout the summer months they come to allthe hotels in numbers, usually appearing in the late afternoon orevening, and they have become as indifferent to the presence of men asthe deer themselves--some of them very much more indifferent. They havenow taken their place among the recognized sights of the Park, and thetourists are nearly as much interested in them as in the geysers. 

[Illustration: BLACK BEARS AT HOTEL GARBAGE HEAP. ]

It was amusing to read the proclamations addressed to the tourists bythe Park management, in which they were solemnly warned that the bearswere really wild animals, and that they must on no account be either fedor teased. It is curious to think that the descendants of the greatgrizzlies which were the dread of the early explorers and hunters shouldnow be semi-domesticated creatures, boldly hanging around crowded hotelsfor the sake of what they can pick up, and quite harmless so long as anyreasonable precaution is exercised. They are much safer, for instance, than any ordinary bull or stallion, or even ram, and, in fact, there isno danger from them at all unless they are encouraged to grow toofamiliar or are in some way molested. Of course among the thousands oftourists there is a percentage of thoughtless and foolish people; andwhen such people go out in the afternoon to look at the bears feedingthey occasionally bring themselves into jeopardy by some senselessact. The black bears and the cubs of the bigger bears can readily bedriven up trees, and some of the tourists occasionally do this. Most ofthe animals never think of resenting it; but now and then one is runacross which has its feelings ruffled by the performance. In the summerof 1902 the result proved disastrous to a too inquisitive tourist. Hewas traveling with his wife, and at one of the hotels they went outtoward the garbage pile to see the bears feeding. The only bear in sightwas a large she, which, as it turned out, was in a bad temper becauseanother party of tourists a few minutes before had been chasing her cubsup a tree. The man left his wife and walked toward the bear to see howclose he could get. When he was some distance off she charged him, whereupon he bolted back toward his wife. The bear overtook him, knockedhim down and bit him severely. But the man's wife, without hesitation, attacked the bear with that thoroughly feminine weapon, an umbrella, andfrightened her off. The man spent several weeks in the Park hospitalbefore he recovered. Perhaps the following telegram sent by the managerof the Lake Hotel to Major Pitcher illustrates with sufficient clearnessthe mutual relations of the bears, the tourists, and the guardians ofthe public weal in the Park. The original was sent me by MajorPitcher. It runs:

"Lake. 7-27-'03. Major Pitcher, Yellowstone: As many as seventeen bearsin an evening appear on my garbage dump. To-night eight or ten. Campersand people not of my hotel throw things at them to make them run away. Icannot, unless there personally, control this. Do you think you coulddetail a trooper to be there every evening from say six o'clock untildark and make people remain behind danger line laid out by Warden Jones?Otherwise I fear some accident. The arrest of one or two of thesecampers might help. My own guests do pretty well as they are told. James Barton Key. 9 A. M. "

Major Pitcher issued the order as requested. 

[Illustration: CHAMBERMAID AND BEAR. ]

At times the bears get so bold that they take to making inroads on thekitchen. One completely terrorized a Chinese cook. It would drive himoff and then feast upon whatever was left behind. When a bear begins toact in this way or to show surliness it is sometimes necessary to shootit. Other bears are tamed until they will feed out of the hand, andwill come at once if called. Not only have some of the soldiers andscouts tamed bears in this fashion, but occasionally a chambermaid orwaiter girl at one of the hotels has thus developed a bear as a pet. 

The accompanying photographs not only show bears very close up, with menstanding by within a few yards of them, but they also show one bearbeing fed from the piazza by a cook, and another standing beside aparticular friend, a chambermaid in one of the hotels. In thesephotographs it will be seen that some are grizzlies and some blackbears. 

This whole episode of bear life in the Yellowstone is so extraordinarythat it will be well worth while for any man who has the right powersand enough time, to make a complete study of the life and history of theYellowstone bears. Indeed, nothing better could be done by some one ofour outdoor fauna naturalists than to spend at least a year in theYellowstone, and to study the life habits of all the wild creaturestherein. A man able to do this, and to write down accurately andinterestingly what he had seen, would make a contribution of permanentvalue to our nature literature. 

In May, after leaving the Yellowstone, I visited the Grand Canyon of theColorado, and spent three days camping in the Yosemite Park with JohnMuir. It is hard to make comparisons among different kinds of scenery, all of them very grand and very beautiful; yet personally to me theGrand Canyon of the Colorado, strange and desolate, terrible and awful inits sublimity, stands alone and unequaled. I very earnestly wish thatCongress would make it a national park, and I am sure that such coursewould meet the approbation of the people of Arizona. As to the YosemiteValley, if the people of California desire it, as many of them certainlydo, it also should be taken by the National Government to be kept as anational park, just as the surrounding country, including some of thegroves of giant trees, is now kept. 

[Illustration: COOK AND BEAR. ]

John Muir and I, with two packers and three pack mules, spent adelightful three days in the Yosemite. The first night was clear, and welay in the open on beds of soft fir boughs among the giant sequoias. Itwas like lying in a great and solemn cathedral, far vaster and morebeautiful than any built by hand of man. Just at nightfall I heard, among other birds, thrushes which I think were Rocky Mountainhermits--the appropriate choir for such a place of worship. Next day wewent by trail through the woods, seeing some deer--which were notwild--as well as mountain quail and blue grouse. In the afternoon westruck snow, and had considerable difficulty in breaking our owntrails. A snow storm came on toward evening, but we kept warm andcomfortable in a grove of the splendid silver firs--rightly namedmagnificent, near the brink of the wonderful Yosemite Valley. Next daywe clambered down into it and at nightfall camped in its bottom, facingthe giant cliffs over which the waterfalls thundered. 

Surely our people do not understand even yet the rich heritage that istheirs. There can be nothing in the world more beautiful than theYosemite, its groves of giant sequoias and redwoods, the Canyon of theColorado, the Canyon of the Yellowstone, the three Tetons; and therepresentatives of the people should see to it that they are preservedfor the people forever, with their majestic beauty all unmarred. 

_Theodore Roosevelt_. 

The Zoology of North American Big Game

Among the many questions asked of the naturalist by an inquiring public, few come up more persistently than "What is the difference between abison and a buffalo; and which is the American animal?"

The interest which so many people find in questions such as this mustserve as a justification for the present paper, which proposes no morethan to put into concise form what is known of the zoological relationsof the animals which come within the special interest of the Boone andCrockett Club. In doing this, conclusions must, as a rule, be statedwith few of the facts upon which they rest, for to give more than theplainest of these would be to far outrun the possible limits of space, and would furthermore lead into technical details which to most readersare obscure and wearisome. 

[Illustration: BULL BISON. ]

Anyone who consults Dr. Johnson's famous dictionary will be illuminatedby the definition of camelopard: "An Abyssinian animal taller than anelephant, but not so thick, " and even but a few years back all that wasconsidered necessary to answer the question, "what is a bison?" was tostate that it is a wild ox with a shaggy mane and a hump on itsshoulders, and the thing was done; but in our own time a satisfactoryanswer must take account of its relationship to other beasts, for wehave come to believe that the differences between animals are simply theblank spaces upon the chart of universal life, against which are tracedthe resemblances, which, as we follow them back into remote periods ofgeologic time, reveal to us definite lines of succession with structuralchange, and these, correctly interpreted, are nothing less than actuallines of blood relationship. To know what an animal is, therefore, wemust know something of its family tree. 

It is perhaps well to emphasize the need of correct interpretation, forthere are no bridges on the paths of palaeontology, and as we go back, more than one great gap occurs between series of strata, marking periodsof intervening time which there is no means of measuring, but duringwhich we know that the progress of change in the animals then livingnever ceased. When such a break is reached, the course of phylogeny islike picking up an interrupted trail, with the additional complicationthat the one we find is never quite like the one we left, and it is insuch conditions that the systematist must apply his knowledge of thegeneral progressive tendencies through the ages of change, to thedetermination of the particular changes he should expect to find in thespecial case before him, and so be enabled to recognize the footprintshe is in search of. The genius to do this has been given to few, but intheir hands the results have often been brilliant. 

Back in the very earliest Tertiary deposits, and in all certainty evenearlier, a group of comparatively small mammals was extensively spreadthrough America, and apparently less widely in Europe, characterized bya primitive form of foot structure, each of which had five completedigits, the whole sole being placed upon the ground, as in the animalswe call plantigrade. The grinding surfaces of their molar teeth werealso primitive, bearing none of the complicated, curved crests andridges possessed by present ruminants, but instead they had conicalcusps, usually not more than three to a tooth; this tritubercular styleof molar crown being about the earliest known in true mammals. 

In the opinion of many palaeontologists, the ancestors of the presenthoofed beasts, or ungulates, were contained among these_Condylarthra_, as they were named by Prof. Cope. 

Of course, these early mammals are known to us only by their fossil andmostly fragmentary skeletons, but it may be said that at least in theungulate line, the successive geological periods show steady structuralprogression in certain directions. Of great importance are a decrease inthe number of functional digits; a gradual elevation of the heel, sothat their modern descendants walk on the tips of their toes, instead ofon the whole sole; a constant tendency to the development of deeplygrooved and interlocked joints in place of shallow bearing surfaces; andto a complex pattern of the molar crowns instead of the simple typementioned. To this may be added as the most important factor of all insurvival, that these changes have progressed together with an increasein the size of the brain and in the convolutions of its outer layer. 

The _Condylarthra_ seem to have gone out of existence before thetime of the middle Eocene, but before this they had become separatedinto the two great divisions of odd-toed and even-toed ungulates, intowhich all truly hoofed beasts now living fall. 

The first group (_Perissodactyla_) has always one or three toesfunctionally developed, either the third, or third, second and fourth, the two others having entirely disappeared, except for a remnant of thefifth in the forefoot of tapirs. They have retained some at least of theupper incisor teeth, and, except in some rhinoceroses, the canines arealso left; the molars and premolars are practically alike in all recentspecies, and in all of which we know the soft parts, the stomach has butone compartment, and there is an enormous caecum. It is probable thatthey took rise earlier than their split-footed relations, and theirTertiary remains are far more numerous, but their tendency is towarddisappearance, and among existing mammals they are represented only byhorses, asses, rhinoceroses, and tapirs. 

Contrasted with these, _Artiodactyla_ have always an even number offunctional digits, the third and fourth reaching the groundsymmetrically, bearing the weight and forming the "split hoof;" thesecond and fifth remain, in most cases, as mere vestiges, showingexternally as the accessory hoofs or dewclaws; in the hippopotamus alonethey are fully developed and the animal has a four-toed foot. In deerand bovine animals the incisors and frequently the canines havedisappeared from the upper jaw, and the molars are unlike the premolarsin having two lobes instead of one. The stomach is always more or lesscomplex; at its extreme reaching the ruminant type with fourcompartments, in association with which is a caecum reduced in size andsimple in form. Nearly all have horns or antlers, at least in one sex. 

Most split-hoofed animals are ruminants, but there is a small remnant, probably of early types, which are not. The present ungulates may besummed up in this way:

Odd-toed: _(Perissodactyla)_-- Horse, Ass, Rhinoceros, Tapir. 

Even-toed: _(Artiodactyla)_--

Non-ruminants--Hippopotamus, Swine, Peccaries. 

Ruminants--Camels, Llamas, Chevrotains, Giraffe, Antelopes, Sheep, Goats, Musk-ox, Oxen, Deer. 

The non-ruminant artiodactyls need not detain us long. Hippopotamusesare little more than large pigs with four toes; they were neverAmerican, though many species, some very small, are found in theEuropean Tertiary. The two existing species are African. 

In the western hemisphere swine are represented by the peccaries, differing from them chiefly in having six less teeth, one less accessorytoe on the hind foot, and in a stomach of more complex character. Peccaries also have the metapodial bones supporting the two functionaldigits fused together at their upper ends, forming an imperfect "cannonbone, " which is a characteristic of practically all the ruminants, butof no other hoofed beasts. One species only enters the United Statesalong the Mexican border. 

All non-ruminant ungulates have from four to six incisors in the upperjaw; the canines are present, and sometimes, as in the wart hogs, reachan extraordinary size. 

Coming now to the ruminants, all digits except the third and fourth havedisappeared from camels and llamas, and the nails on these are limitedto their upper surface without forming a hoof, the under side being abroad pad, upon which they tread. No camel-like beasts have inhabitedNorth America since the Pliocene age. Chevrotains, or muis deer(_Tragulidae_), are not deer in any true sense, as they have butthree compartments to the stomach; antlers are absent and in their placelarge and protruding canine teeth are developed in the upper jaw, andthe lateral metacarpal bones are complete throughout their length, instead of being represented by a mere remnant. They are the smallest ofungulates, and inhabit only portions of the Indo-Malayan region. Camelsalso have upper canines, and the outer, upper incisors as well. 

The giraffe is separated from all living ungulates by the primitivecharacter of its so-called "horns, " which are not horns in the usualsense, but simply bony prominences of the skull covered with hair. Someof the earliest deer-like animals seem to have had simple or slightlybranched antlers which were not shed, and which there is reason tobelieve were also hairy, and in these, as well as in other characters, giraffes and the early deer may not have been far apart. The "okapi, "Sir Harry Johnston's late discovery in the Uganda forests, seems to havecome from the same ancestral stock, but the giraffe has no otherexisting relatives. 

The true deer, to which we shall return, are readily enoughdistinguished from the ox tribe and its allies by their solid and moreor less branched antlers, usually confined to males, and periodicallyshed. 

So, through this rapid survey, we have dropped out of the hoofed beastsall but the bovines and their near allies, and are thus far advancedtoward our definition of a bison, but from this point we shall not findit easy to draw sharp distinctions, for while the _Bovidae_, as awhole, are well enough distinguished from all other animals, theircharacteristics are so much mixed among themselves that it is hardlypossible to find any one or more striking features peculiar to onegroup, and for most of them recourse must be had to associations of anumber of lesser characters. 

Oxen, antelopes, sheep and goats agree in having hollow horns ofmaterial similar to that of which hair and nails are formed, permanentlyfixed upon the skull in all but one species; none of them have more thanthe two middle digits functionally developed, one on each side of theaxis of the leg; none have the lower ends remaining of the meta-podialbones belonging to the two accessory digits; and none have eitherincisor or canine teeth in the upper jaw. 

From animals so constructed we may first take out goats and sheep, inwhich the female horns are much smaller than those of males, and in somespecies are even absent. In nearly all of them the horns are noticeablycompressed in section, either triangular or sub-triangular near thebase, and are directed sometimes outwardly from the head with a circularsweep; at others with a backward curve, often spirally. The muzzle isalways hairy; there is no small accessory column on the inner side ofthe upper molars, found always in oxen and in some antelopes; the tailis short, and scent glands are present between the digits of some or allthe feet. 

Now, as to the perplexing animals popularly known as antelopes. Nodefinition could be framed which would include them all in one group, for every subordinate character seems to be present in some and absentin others, so that the most that can be done with this vast assemblageis to arrange its contents in series of genera, which may or may not becalled sub-families, but which probably correspond in some degree totheir real affinities. We can only say of any one of them that it is anantelope because it is not a sheep, nor a goat, nor an ox. They concernus here only to be eliminated, for they are not American, our prong-buckhaving a sub-family all to itself, as we shall see later, and theso-called "white goat" being usually regarded as neither goat nor trulyantelope. 

Within the limits of the real bovine animals, four quite distinct typesmay be made out, chiefly by the position of the horns upon the skull andby the shape of the horns themselves. There are also differences in therelations of the nasal and premaxillary bones, the development of theneural spines of the vertebrae, and the hairy covering of the body. 

In the genus _Bos_ the horns are placed high up on the vertex ofthe skull, which forms a marked transverse ridge from which the hinderportion falls sharply away. The horns are nearly circular in section andalmost smooth; usually they curve outward, then upward and often inwardat the tip; the premaxillaries are long and generally reach to thenasals, and the anterior dorsal vertebrae are without sharply elongatedspines, so that the line of the back is nearly straight. These, the trueoxen, as they are sometimes termed, now exist only in domesticatedbreeds of cattle. 

In the gaur oxen (_Bibos_) the horns are situated as in _Bos_, high up on the vertex, but are more elliptical in section; thepremaxillaries are short; the dorsal vertebrae, from the third to theeleventh, bear elongated spines which produce a hump reaching nearly tothe middle of the back; the tail is shorter, and the hair is short allover the body. The three species--gaur, gayal and banteng--inhabitIndo-Malayan countries, and all of them are dark brown with whitestockings. 

The buffaloes (_Bubalus_) are large and clumsy animals with hornsmore or less compressed or flattened at their bases, set low down on thevertex, which does not show the high transverse ridge of true oxen andgaurs. In old bulls of the African species the horns meet at their baseand completely cover the forehead. In the arni of India they areenormously long. The dorsal spines are not much elongated, and there isno distinct hump; the premaxillae are long enough to reach thenasals. Hair is scanty all over the body, and old animals are almostwholly bare. The small and interesting anoa of Celebes, and the tamaraoof Mindoro, are nearly related in all important respects to the Indianbuffalo, and the carabao, used for draught and burden in thePhilippines, belongs to a long domesticated race of the same animal. 

Finally, in the genus _Bison_ the horns are below the vertex as inbuffaloes, but are set far apart at the base, which is cylindrical; theyare short and their curve is forward, upward and inward; the anteriordorsal and the last cervical vertebrae have long spines which bear adistinct hump on the shoulders; the premaxillae are short and neverreach the nasals; there are fourteen, or occasionally fifteen, pairs ofribs, all other oxen having but thirteen, and there is a heavy maneabout the neck and shoulders. The yak of central Asia is very bison-likein some respects, but in others departs in the direction of oxen. 

So at last, group by group, we have gone through the ungulates, and thebisons alone are left, and as the American animal has short, incurvedhorns, set low down on the skull and far apart at the base;premaxillaries falling short of the nasals; the last cervical and theanterior dorsal vertebrae with spines; fourteen pairs of ribs, and amane covering the shoulders, we conclude that it is a bison, and as thesame characteristics with minor variations are shown by the Europeanspecies, often, but wrongly, called "aurochs, " we say that these twoalone of existing _Bovidae_ are bisons, with the yak as a somewhatquestionable relative. 

In all essential respects the two bisons are very similar, but minutecomparison shows that the European species, _Bison bonasus_, has awider and flatter forehead, bearing longer and more slender horns, andall the other distinctive features are less pronounced. In the Americanspecies, _Bison bison_, the pelvis is less elevated, producing thecharacteristic slope of the hindquarters. It is a coincidence that thetwo regions originally inhabited by the bisons are those in which thewhite races of men have to the greatest extent thrown their restlessenergies into the struggle for existence, with the result thatextinction to nearly the same degree has overtaken these two nearcousins among oxen. A few wild members of the European species stillexist in the Caucasus, as a few of the American are left in BritishAmerica, but elsewhere both exist only under protection. 

The carefully kept statistics of the Bielowitza herd in Grodno, westernRussia, which includes nearly all but the few wild ones, shows thatbetween 1833 and 1857 they increased in number from 768 to 1, 898, butfrom this maximum the decrease has been constant, with trifling halts, until in 1892 less than five hundred were left; so that even if thePeace River bison are counted with the remnant of the American species, it is probable that the survivors of each race are about equal innumber. 

It is true that the number of our own species has lately been placed ashigh as a thousand, but even if these figures are correct, the seeds ofdecay from internal causes, such as inbreeding and the degeneration ofrestraint, are already sown, and the inevitable end of the race is notfar off. 

The Peace River, or woodland, bison has lately been separated as asub-species _(B. Bison athabascae)_, distinguished from thesouthern and better known form by superior size, a wider forehead, longer, more slender and incurved horns, and by a thicker and softercoat, which is also darker in color. Now, it is an interesting fact thata fossil bison skull from the lower Pliocene of India resembles thepresent European species, and in later geological times very similarbisons closely allied to each other, if not identical, inhabited allnorthern regions, including America. These were large animals with wideskulls, and there is little doubt that from this circumpolar form cameboth of the bisons now inhabiting Europe and America. Out of some halfdozen fossil bison which have been described from America, none earlierthan the latest Tertiary, _Bison latifrons_ from the Pleistoceneseems likely to have been the immediate ancestor of recent Americanspecies, and as the one skull of the woodland bison which has beenexamined resembles both _latifrons_ and the European species morethan the plains species does, it seems probable that these two morenearly represent the primitive bison, of which the former inhabitant ofthe prairies is a more modified descendant. 

The process of elimination has at last led to this outline definition ofa bison, but among the ungulates we have passed over, there are certainothers which concern us because they are American. 

Sheep and goats agree together and differ from oxen in being usually ofsmaller size; the tail is shorter, the horns of females are much smallerthan those of males, they lack the accessory column on the inner side ofthe upper molars, and the cannon bone is longer and more slender; butwhen it comes to a comparison of the one with the other, it is by nomeans always easy to tell the difference. It is true that the earlyGreeks seem to have had a rough and ready rule under which mistakes werenot easy, for Aristotle tells us "Alcmaeon is mistaken when he says thatgoats breathe through their ears, " but the severely practical methods ofour own day leave us little but some very minute points ofdifference. One of the best of these lies in the shape of thebasi-occipital bone, but naturally this can be observed only in theprepared skull. The terms often employed to denote difference in thehorns can have only a general application, for they break down incertain species in which the two groups approach each other. Thefollowing table expresses some fairly definite points of separation:

 SHEEP (_Ovis_). GOAT (_Capra_). 

1. Muzzle hairy except between 1. Muzzle entirely hairy. And just above the nostrils. 

2. Interdigital glands on all 2. Interdigital glands, when the feet. Present, only on fore feet. 

3. Suborbital gland and pit 3. Suborbital gland and pit usually present. Never present. 

4. No beard nor caprine 4. Male with a beard and smell in male. Caprine smell. 

5. Horns with coarse transverse 5. Horns with fine transverse wrinkles; yellowish striations, or bold knobs or brown; sub-triangular in front; blackish; in male in male, spreading outward more compressed or angular, and forward with a sweeping backward circular sweep, points with a scythe-like curve or turned outward and forward spirally, points turned upward and backward. 

These features are distinctive as between most sheep and most goats, butthe Barbary wild sheep (_Ovis tragelaphus_) has no suborbital glandor pit, a goat-like peculiarity which it shares with the Himalayanbharal (_Ovis nahura_), in which the horns resemble closelythose of a goat from the eastern Caucasus called tur (_Capracylindricornis_), which for its part has the horns somewhatsheep-like and a very small beard. This same bharal has the goat-likehabit of raising itself upon its hind legs before butting. 

Both groups are a comparatively late development of the bovine stock, asthey do not certainly appear before the upper Pliocene of Europe andAsia, and even at a later date their remains are not plentiful. Goatsappear to have been rather the earlier, but are entirely absent fromAmerica. 

The number of distinct species of sheep in our fauna is a matter of toomuch uncertainty to be treated with any sort of authority at this time. Most of us grew up in the belief that there was but one, the well-knownmountain sheep (_Ovis canadensis_), but seven new species andsub-species have been produced from the systematic mill within recentyears, six of them since 1897. It is no part of the purpose of thepresent paper to dwell upon much vexed questions of specificdistinctness, and it will only be pointed out here that the ultimatevalidity of most of these supposed forms will depend chiefly upon theexactness of the conception of species which will replace amongzoologists the vague ideas of the present time. Whatever the conclusionmay be, it seems probable that some degree of distinction will beaccorded to, at least, one or two Alaskan forms. 

As sheep probably came into America from Asia during the Pleistocene, ata time when Bering's Strait was closed by land, it might be expectedthat those now found here would show relationship to the Kamtschatkanspecies (_Ovis nivicola_); and such is indeed the case, whilefurthermore, in the small size of the suborbital gland and pit, and incomparative smoothness of the horns, both species approach the bharal ofThibet and India, which in these respects is goat-like. 

When one considers the poverty of the new world in bovine ruminants, itseems strange that three such anomalous forms should have fallen to itsshare as the prong-horn, the white goat and the musk-ox, of none ofwhich have we the complete history; two of the number being entirelyisolated species, sometimes regarded as the types of separate families. 

The prong-horn is a curious compound. It resembles sheep in the minutestructure of its hair, in its hairy muzzle, and in having interdigitalglands on all its feet. Like goats, it has no sub-orbital gland nordistinct pit. Like the chamois, it has a gland below and behind the ear, the secretion of which has a caprine odor. It has also glands on therump. It is like the giraffe in total absence of the accessory hoofs, even to the metapodials which support them. It differs from all hollowhorned ungulates in having deciduous horns with a fork or anteriorbranch. There is not the least similarity, however, between these hornsand the bony deciduous antlers of deer, for, like those of all bovines, they are composed of agglutinated hairs, set on a bony core projectingfrom the frontal region of the skull. 

It is well known that these horn sheaths are at times shed andreproduced, but the exact regularity with which the process takes placeis by no means certain, although such direct evidence as there is goesto prove that it occurs annually in the autumn. Prong-bucks have shedon eight occasions in the Zoological Gardens at Philadelphia, five timesby the same animal, which reached the gardens in October, 1899, and hasshed each year early in November, the last time on October 22, 1903, [1]and the writer has seen one fine head killed about November 5 in a wildstate, on which the horn-sheaths were loose and ready to drop off. 

[Footnote 1: It is interesting to note that the first pair shed measured7-1/4 inches, on the anterior curve; the second pair 9-1/2, and the lastthree 11 inches each. The largest horns ever measured by the writer werethose of a buck killed late in November, 1892, near Marathon, Texas, andwere 15-3/4 inches in vertical height and 21 along the curve. ]

But few of these delicate animals have lived long enough in captivity topermit study of the same individual through a course of years, and thescarcity of observations made upon them in a wild state isremarkable. That irregularity in the process would not be withoutanalogy, is shown by the case of the Indian sambur deer, of which thereis evidence from such authority as that king of sportsmen, Sir SamuelBaker, and others, that the shedding does not always occur at the sameseason, nor is it always annual in the same buck; and by Pore David'sdeer, which has been known to shed twice in one year. 

When resemblances such as those of the prong-horn are so promiscuouslydistributed, the task of fixing their values in estimating affinities isnot a light one, and in fact the most rational conclusion which we maydraw from them is that they point back to a distant and generalizedancestor, who possessed them all, but that in the distribution of hisphysical estate, so to speak, these heirlooms have not come down aliketo all descendants. There is again a complicating possibility that somemay be no more than adaptive or analogous characters, similarly producedunder like conditions of life, but quite independent of a common origin, and it is seldom that we know enough of the history of development ofany species to conclude with certainty whether or not this has been thecase. At all events, the prong-buck is quite alone in the world atpresent, and we know no fossils which unmistakably point to it, althoughit has been supposed that some of the later Miocene species of_Cosoryx_--small deer-like animals with non-deciduous horns, probably covered with hair, and molars of somewhat bovine type--may havebeen ancestral to it, but this is little more than a speculation. Whatis certain is that _Antilocapra_ is now a completely isolated form, fully entitled to rank as a family all by itself. 

In the musk-ox (_Ovibos moschatus_), or "sheep-ox, " as the genericname given by Blainville has it, we meet with another strange and lonelyform which has contributed its full share to the problems of systematiczoology. Its remote and inaccessible range has greatly retardedknowledge of its structure, and it is only within the last three yearsthat acquaintance has been made with its soft anatomy, and at the sametime with a maze of resemblances and differences toward other ruminants, that perhaps more than equals the irregularities of the prong-buck. Butunlike that species, there is in the musk-ox no extreme modification, such as a deciduous horn, to separate it distinctly from the rest of thefamily. A recapitulation of these differences would be too minutelytechnical for insertion here, and it must be enough to say that while itcannot be assigned to either group, yet in the distribution of hair onthe muzzle, in the presence of a small suborbital gland, in shortness oftail and the light color of its horns, it is sheep-like; in the absenceof interdigital glands, the shortness and stoutness of its cannon bones, and in the presence of a small accessory inner column on the uppermolars, it is bovine. But in the coarse longitudinal striation of thebases of its horns it differs from both. The shape of the horns is alsopeculiar. Curving outward, downward and then sharply upward, withbroad, flattened bases meeting in the middle line, their outlines arenot unlike those of old bulls of the African buffalo. 

At the present time the musk-ox inhabits only arctic America, fromGreenland westward nearly to the Mackenzie River, but its range wasformerly circumpolar, and in Pleistocene times it inhabited Europe asfar south as Germany and France. The musk-ox of Greenland has latelybeen set aside as a distinct species. The most we can say is that_Ovibos_ is a unique form, standing perhaps somewhere between oxenand sheep, and descended from an ancient ruminant type through anancestry of which we know nothing, for the only fossil remains which areat all distinguishable from the existing genus, are yet closely similarto it, and are no older than the Pleistocene of the central UnitedStates; in earlier periods its history is a blank about which it isuseless to speculate. 

The last of our three anomalies, the white, or mountain goat(_Oreamnos montanus_), is not as completely orphaned as the othertwo, for it seems quite surely to be connected with a small and peculiarseries consisting of the European chamois and several species of_Nemorhaedus_ inhabiting eastern Asia and Sumatra. These are oftencalled mountain antelopes, or goat antelopes. So little is yet known ofthe soft anatomy of the white goat that we are much in the dark as toits minute resemblances, but its glandular system is certainlysuggestive of the chamois, and many of its attitudes are strikinglysimilar. In all the points in which it approaches goats it is like some, at least, among antelopes, while in the elongated spines of the anteriordorsal vertebrae, which support the hump, and in extreme shortness ofthe cannon bone, it is far from goat-like. The goat idea, indeed, haslittle more foundation than the suggestive resemblance of the profilewith its caprine beard. It is truly no goat at all, and should moreproperly be regarded as an aberrant antelope, if anything could bejustly termed "aberrant" in an aggregation of animals, hardly any two ofwhich agree in all respects of structure. No American fossils seem topoint to _Oreamnos_, and as _Nemorhaedus_ extends to Japan andeastern Siberia, it is probable that it was an Asiatic immigrant, notearlier than the Pleistocene. 

From this intricate genealogical tangle one turns with relief to thedeer family, where the course of development lies reasonably plain. Ifthe rank of animals in the aristocracy of nature were to be fixed by theremoteness of the period to which we know their ancestors, the deerwould out-rank their bovine cousins by a full half of the Mioceneperiod, and the study of fossils onward from this early beginningpresents few clearer lines of evidence supporting modern theoriesrespecting the development of species, than is shown in the increasingsize and complexity of the antlers in succeeding geological ages, fromthe simple fork of the middle Miocene to those with three prongs of thelate Miocene, the four-pronged of the Pliocene, and finally to themany-branched shapes of the Pleistocene and the present age. Now it isfurther true that each one of these types is represented today in themature antlers of existing deer, from the small South American specieswith a simple spike, up to the wapiti and red deer carrying six or eightpoints, and still more significant is it that the whole story isrecapitulated in the growth of each individual of the higher races. Theearliest cervine animals known seem to have had no antlers at all, astage to which the fawn of the year corresponds; the subsequent normaladdition in the life-history, of a tine for each year of growth untilthe mature antler is reached, answering with exactness to the stages ofadvance shown in the development-history of the race. A year ofindividual life is the symbol of a geological period ofprogression. This is a marvelous record, of which we maysay--paraphrasing with Huxley the well-known saying of Voltaire--"if ithad not already existed, evolution must have been invented to explain. "

The least technical, and for the present purpose the most useful of thecharacters distinguishing existing deer from all of the bovine stock, lies in the antlers, which are solid, of bony substance, and areannually shed. They are present in the males of all species except theChinese water deer, and the very divergent musk-deer, which probablyshould not be regarded as a deer at all. They are normally absent fromall females except those of the genus _Rangifer_. Most deer havecanine teeth in the upper jaw, though they are absent in the moose, inthe distinctively American type and a few others. The cleaned skullalways shows a large vacuity in the outer wall in front of the orbit, which prevents the lachrymal bone from reaching the nasals. No deer hasa gall bladder. There are many other distinctions, but as all haveexceptions they are of value only in combinations. 

The earliest known deer, belonging to the genus _Dremotherium_, or_Amphitragulus_, from the middle Tertiary of France, were of smallsize and had four toes, canine teeth and no antlers. Their successorsseem to have borne simple forked antlers or horns, probably covered withhair, and permanently fixed on the skull. Very similar animals existedin contemporaneous and later deposits in North America. From this pointthe course of progress is tolerably clear as to deer in general, although we are not sure of all the intermediate details--for it mustnot be forgotten that a series of types exhibiting progressivemodifications in each succeeding geological period is quite asconclusive in pointing out the genealogy of an existing group as if weknew each individual term in the ancestral series of each of itsmembers. Thus we do not yet know whether the peculiar antler of thedistinctively American deer, of the genus _Mazama_, is derived froman American source or took its origin in the old world, for the fossilantlers known as _Anoglochis_, from the Pliocene of Europe, arequite suggestive of the _Mazama_ style, but as nothing is known ofthe other skeletal details of _Anoglochis_, any such connectionmust at present be purely speculative, but the element of doubt in thisspecial case in no way disturbs the certainty of the general conclusionthat all our present _Cérvidae_ have come through distinct stagesin the successive periods, from the simple types of the middle Tertiary. 

The family is undoubtedly of old world origin, and for the most partbelongs to the northern hemisphere, South America being the onlycontinental area in which they are found south of the equator. 

The analytical habit of mind which finds vent in the subdivision ofspecies, is also exhibited in a tendency to break up large genera into anumber of small ones, but in the present group this practice has thedisadvantage of obscuring a broad distinction between the dominant typesinhabiting respectively the old world and the new. The former, represented by the genus _Cervus_, has a brow-tine to the antlers;has the posterior portion of the nasal chamber undivided by the verticalplate of the vomer; and the upper ends only of the lateral metacarpalsremain, whereas in all these particulars the typical American deer areexactly opposite. As there are objections to considering thesecharacters as of family value, arising from the intermediate position ofthe circumpolar genera _Alces_ and _Rangifer_, as well as thewater deer and the roe, a broader meaning is given to classification byretaining the comprehensive genera _Cervus_ and _Mazama_, andrecognizing the subordinate divisions only as sub-genera. 

The one representative of _Cervus_ inhabiting America is thewapiti, or "elk" (_C. Canadensis_), which is without doubt animmigrant from Asia by way of Alaska, and it may be of interest to statethe grounds upon which this conclusion rests, as they afford anexcellent example of the way in which such results are reached. It is anaccepted truth in geographical distribution, that the portion of theearth in which the greatest number of forms differentiated from one typeare to be found, is almost always the region in which that type had itsorigin. Now, out of about a dozen species and sub-species of wapiti andred deer to which names have been given, not less than eight areAsiatic, so that Asia, and probably its central portion, is indicated asthe region in which the elaphine deer arose; in confirmation of which isthe further fact that the antler characteristic of these deer seems tohave originated from the same ancestral form as that which produced thesikine and rusine types, which are also Asiatic. From this centre theelaphines spread westward and eastward, resulting in Europe in the reddeer, which penetrated southward into north Africa at a time when therewas a land connection across the Mediterranean. In the oppositedirection, the nearer we get to Bering's Straits the closer is theresemblance to the American wapiti, until the splendid species from theAltai Mountains (_C. Canadensis asiaticus_), and Luehdorf's deer(_C. C. Luehdorfi_) from Manchuria, are regarded only as sub-speciesof the eastern American form, which they approach through _C. C. Occidentalis_ of Oregon and the northwestern Pacific Coast. 

This evidence is conclusive in itself, and is further confirmed by thegeological record, from which we know that the land connection betweenAlaska and Kamtschatka was of Pliocene age, while we have no knowledgeof the wapiti in America until the succeeding period. 

While there is not the least doubt that the smaller American deer had anorigin identical with those of the old world, the exact point of theirseparation is not so clear. Two possibilities are open to choice:_Mazama_ may be supposed to have descended from the group to which_Blastomeryx_ belonged, this being a late Miocene genus fromNebraska, with cervine molars, but otherwise much like _Cosoryx, _which we have seen to be a possible ancestor of the prong-horn; or wemay prefer to believe that the differentiation took place earlier inEurope or Asia, from ancestors common to both. But there is a seriousdilemma. If we choose the former view, we must conclude that thedeciduous antler was independently developed in each of the twocontinents, and while it is quite probable that approximately similarstructures have at times arisen independently, it is not easy to believethat an arrangement so minutely identical in form and function can havebeen twice evolved. On the second supposition, we have to face the factthat there is very little evidence from palaeontology of the formerpresence of the American type in Eurasia. But, on the whole, the latterhypothesis presents fewer difficulties and is probably the correct one;in which case two migrations must have taken place, an earlier one ofthe generalized type to which _Blastomeryx_ and _Cosoryx_ belonged, and a later one of the direct ancestor of _Mazama_. There islittle difficulty in the assumption of these repeated migrations, for evidence exists that during a great part of the last halfof the Tertiary this continent was connected by land to thenorthwest with Asia, and to the northeast, through Greenland andIceland, with western Europe. 

The distinction between the two groups is well marked. All the_Mazama_ type are without a true brow-tine to the antlers; thelower ends of the lateral metacarpals only remain; the vertical plate ofthe vomer extends downward and completely separates the hind part of thenasal chamber into two compartments; and with hardly an exception theyhave a large gland on the inside of the tarsus, or heel. The completedevelopment of these characters is exhibited in northern species, and ithas been beautifully shown that as we go southward there is a strongtendency to diminished size; toward smaller antlers and reduction in thenumber of tines; to smaller size, and finally complete loss of themetatarsal gland on the outside of the hind leg; and to the assumptionof a uniform color throughout the year, instead of a seasonal change. 

The two styles of antler which we recognize in the North American deerare too well known to require description. That characterizing the muledeer (_Mazama hemionus_) and the Columbia black-tailed deer(_M. Columbiana_), seems never to have occurred in the east, norsouth much beyond the Mexican border, and these deer have varied littleexcept in size, although three subspecies have lately been set off fromthe mule deer in the extreme southwest. 

The section represented by _M. Virginiana, _ with antlers curvingforward and tines projecting from its hinder border, takes practicallythe whole of America in its range, and under the law of variation whichhas been stated, has proved a veritable gold mine to the makers ofnames. At present it is utterly useless to attempt to determine which ofthe forms described will stand the scrutiny of the future, and no morewill be attempted here than to state the present gross contents ofcervine literature. The sub-genus _Dorcelaphus_ contains all theforms of the United States; of these, the deer belonging east of theMissouri River, those from the great plains to the Pacific, those alongthe Rio Grande in Texas and Mexico, those of Florida, and those again ofSonora, are each rated as sub-species of _virginiana_; to which wemust add six more, ranging from Mexico to Bolivia. One full species, _M. Truei, _ has been described from Central America, and anotherrather anomalous creature (_M. Crookii_), resembling bothwhite-tail and mule deer, from New Mexico. 

The other sub-genera are _Blastoceros, _ with branched antlers andno metatarsal gland; _Xenelaphus, _ smaller in size, with small, simply forked antlers and no metatarsal gland; _Mazama_, containingthe so-called brockets, very small, with minute spike antlers, lackingthe metatarsal and sometimes the tarsal gland as well. The last threesub-genera are South American and do not enter the UnitedStates. Another genus, _Pudua_, from Chili, is much like thebrockets, but has exceedingly short cannon bones, and some of the tarsalbones are united in a manner unlike other deer. In all, thirty specificand sub-specific names are now carried on the roll of _Mazama_ andits allies. 

Attention has already been directed to the parallelism between thecourse of progress from simple to complex antlers in the development ofthe deer tribe, and the like progress in the growth of each individual, and to the further fact that all the stages are represented in themature antlers of existing species. But a curious result follows from astudy of the past distribution of deer in America. At a time when thebranched stage had been already reached in North America, the isthmus ofPanama was under water; deer were then absent from South America and theearliest forms found fossil there had antlers of the type of_M. Virginiana_. The small species with simple antlers only madetheir appearance in later periods, and it follows that they aredescended from those of complex type. This third parallel series, therefore, instead of being direct as are the other two, is reversed, and the degeneration of the antler, which we have seen taking place inthe southern deer, has followed backward on the line of previousadvance, or, in biological language, appears to be a true case ofretrogressive evolution--representing the fossil series, as it were, ina mirror. 

The reindeer-caribou type, of the genus _Rangifer, _ agrees withAmerican deer in having the vertical plate of the vomer complete, and inhaving the lower ends of the lateral metacarpals remaining, but, like_Cervus, _ it has a brow-tine to the antlers. Of its early historywe know nothing, for the only related forms which have yet come to lightare of no great antiquity, being confined to the Pleistocene of Europeas far south as France, and are not distinguishable from existingspecies. Until recently it has been supposed that one species was foundin northern Europe and Asia, and two others, a northern and a southern, in North America, but lately the last two have been subdivided, and thepresent practice is to regard the Scandinavian reindeer (_Rangifertarandus_) as the type, with eight or nine other species orsub-species, consisting of the two longest known American forms, thenorthern, or barren-ground caribou (_R. Arcticus_); the southern, orwoodland (_R. Caribou_); the three inhabiting respectivelySpitzbergen, Greenland and Newfoundland, and still more lately four morefrom British Columbia and Alaska. The differences between these are notvery profound, but they seem on the whole to represent two types: thebarren-ground, small of size, with long, slender antlers but littlepalmated; and the woodland, larger, with shorter and more massiveantlers, usually with broad palms. There is some reason to believe thatboth these types lived in Europe during the interglacial period, thefirst-named being probably the earlier and confined to western Europe, while the other extended into Asia. The present reindeer of Greenlandand Spitzbergen seem to agree most closely with the barren-ground, whilethe southern forms are nearest to the woodland, and these are said toalso resemble the reindeer of Siberia. It is, therefore, not animprobable conjecture that there were two migrations into America, oneof the barren-ground type from western Europe, by way of the Spitzbergenland connection, and the other of the woodland, from Siberia, by way ofAlaska. 

Little more can be said, perhaps even less, of the other circumpolargenus, _Alces_, known in America as "moose, " and across theAtlantic as "elk. " It also is of mixed character in relation to the twogreat divisions we have had in mind, but in a different way fromreindeer. 

Like American deer it has the lower ends of the lateral metacarpalsremaining, and the antlers are without a brow-tine, but like_Cervus_ it has an incomplete vomer, and unlike deer in general, the antlers are set laterally on the frontal bone, instead of more orless vertically, and the nasal bones are excessively short. The animalof northern Europe and Asia is usually considered to be distinct fromthe American, and lately the Alaskan moose has been christened _Alcesgigas_, marked by greater size, relatively more massive skull, andhuge antlers. Of the antecedents of _Alces_, as in the case of thereindeer, we are ignorant. The earlier Pleistocene of Europe has yieldednearly related fossils, [2] and a peculiar and probably rather later formcomes from New Jersey and Kentucky. This last in some respects suggestsa resemblance to the wapiti, but it is unlikely that the similarity ismore than superficial, and as moose not distinguishable from theexisting species are found in the same formation, it is improbable that_Cervalces_ bore to _AIces_ anything more than a collateralrelationship. 

[Footnote 2: The huge fossil known as "Irish elk" is really a fallowdeer and in no way nearly related to the moose. ]

Even to an uncritical eye, the differences between ungulates andcarnivores of to-day are many and obvious, but as we trace them backinto the past we follow on converging lines, and in our search for theprototypes of the carnivora we are led to the _Creodonta_, contemporary with _Condylarthra_, which we have seen giving originto hoofed beasts, but outlasting them into the succeeding age. These twogroups of generalized mammals approached each other so nearly instructure, that it is even doubtful to which of them certain outlyingfossils should be referred, and the assumption is quite justified thatthey had a common ancestor in the preceding period, of which no recordis yet known. 

The most evident points in which _Carnivora_ differ from_Ungulata_ are their possession of at least four and frequentlyfive digits, which always bear claws and never hoofs; all but the seaotter have six small incisor teeth in each jaw; the canines are large;the molars never show flattened, curved crests after the ruminantpattern, but are more or less tubercular, and one tooth in the hinderpart of each jaw becomes blade-like, for shearing off lumps offlesh. This tooth is called the sectorial, or carnassial. 

Existing carnivores are conveniently divided into three sections:_Arctoidea_--bears, raccoons, otters, skunks, weasels, etc. ;_Canoidea_--dogs, wolves and foxes; _Aeluroidea_--cats, civets, ichneumons and hyaenas. 

It is highly probable that these three chief types have descended in asmany distinct lines from the _Creodonta_, and that they weredifferentiated as early as the middle Eocene, but their exact degree ofaffinity is uncertain; bears and dogs are certainly closer together thaneither of them are to cats, and it is questionable if otters andweasels--the _Mustelidae_, as they are termed--and raccoons arereally near of kin to bears. 

Seals are often regarded as belonging to this order, but their relationto the rest of the carnivores is very doubtful. Many of their charactersare suggestive of _Arctoidea_, but it is an open question if theirancestors were bear or otter-like animals which took to an aquatic life, or whether they may not have had a long and independent descent. At allevents, doubt is cast upon the proposition that they are descended fromanything nearly like present land forms by the fact that seals ofalready high development are known as early as the later Miocene. 

The difficulty so constantly met with in attempting to state conciselythe details of classification, is well shown in this order, for itssubdivisions rest less upon a few well defined characters than uponcomplex associations of a number of lesser and more obscure ones, arecapitulation of which would be tedious beyond the endurance of all butpracticed anatomists. For the present purposes it must be enough to saythat bears and dogs have forty-two teeth in the complete set, of whichfour on each side above and below are premolars, and two above, withthree below, are molars, but these teeth in bears have flatter crownsand more rounded tubercles than those of dogs, and the sectorial teethare much less blade-like, this style of tooth being better adapted totheir omnivorous food habits. Bears, furthermore, have five digits oneach foot and are plantigrade, while dogs have but four toes behind andare digitigrade. These differences are less marked in some of thesmaller arctoids, which may have as few as thirty-two teeth, and comevery near to dogs in the extent of the digital surface which rests uponthe ground in walking. 

In distinction from these, _Aeluroidea_ never have more than twotrue molars below, and the cusps of their teeth are much more sharplyedged, reaching in the sectorials the extreme of scissor-likespecialization. In all of them the claws are more or less retractile, and they walk on the ends of their fingers and toes. 

Cats are distinguished from the remainder of this section by theshortness of the skull, and reduction of the teeth to thirty, therebeing but one true molar on each side, that of the upper jaw being sominute that it is probably getting ready to disappear. 

Civets, genets, and ichneumons are small as compared with most cats;they are fairly well distinguished by skull and tooth characters; theirclaws are never fully retractile, and many have scent glands, as in thecivets. No member of this family is American. 

Hyaenas have the same dental formula as cats, but their teeth areenormously strong and massive, in relation to their function of crushingbone. 

No carnivore has teeth so admirably adapted to a diet of flesh as thecat, and, in fact, it may be doubted if among all mammals, it has asuperior in structural fitness to its life habits in general. 

The _Felidae_ are an exceedingly uniform group, although they dopresent minor differences; thus, some species have the orbits completelyencircled by bone, while in most of them these are more or less widelyopen behind; in some the first upper premolar is absent, and some have around pupil, while in others it is elliptical or vertical, but if thereis a key to the apparently promiscuous distribution of these variations, it has not yet been found, and no satisfactory sub-division of the genushas been made, beyond setting aside the hunting-leopard or cheetah as_Cynaelurus_, upon peculiarities of skull and teeth. 

True cats of the genus _Felis_ were in existence before the closeof the Miocene, and yet earlier related forms are known. Throughout thegreater part of the Tertiary the remarkable type known as sabre-toothedcats were numerous and widely spread, and in South America they evenlasted so far into the Pleistocene that it is probably true that theyexisted side by side with man. Some of them were as large as anyexisting cat and had upper canines six inches or more in length. Catshave no near relations upon the American continent, nor do they appearto have ever had many except the sabre-tooths. Of present species somefifty are known, inhabiting all of the greater geographical areas exceptAustralia. They are tropical and heat loving, but the short-tailedlynxes are northern, while both the tiger and leopard in Asia, and pumain America, range into sub-arctic temperatures, and it is a curiousanomaly that while Siberian tigers have gained the protection of a long, warm coat of hair, pumas from British America differ very little in thisrespect from those of warm regions. 

No other cat has so extensive a range as _Felis concolor_ and itsclose allies, variously known as puma, cougar and mountain lion, whichextends from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from latitude fifty-fiveor sixty north, to the extreme southern end of the continent. As far asis known, it is a recent development, for no very similar remains appearprevious to post-tertiary deposits. 

Bears of the genus _Ursus_ are of no great antiquity in ageological sense, for we have no knowledge of them earlier than thePliocene of Europe, and even later in America, but fossils becominggradually less bear-like and approximating toward the early type fromwhich dogs also probably sprung, go back to the early Tertiarycreodonts. 

Cats, as we have seen, are chiefly tropical, while bears, with twoexceptions, are northern, one species inhabiting the Chilian Andes, while the brown bear of Europe extends into North Africa as far as theAtlas Mountains. 

The family _Procyonidae_ contains the existing species which appearto be nearest of kin to bears. These are all small and consist of thewell-known raccoon, the coatis, the ring-tailed bassaris and thekinkajou, all differing from bears in varying details of tooth and otherstructures. The curious little panda (_Aelurus fulgens_) from theHimalayas, is very suggestive of raccoons, and as forms belonging tothis genus inhabited England in Pliocene times, it is possible that wehave pointed out to us here the origin of this, at present, strictlyAmerican family; but, on the other hand, evidence is not wanting thatthey have always been native to the soil and came from a dog-like stock. 

As we have already seen, bears have the same dental formula as dogs, butas they are less carnivorous, their grinders have flatter surfaces andthe sectorials are less sharp; in fact they have very little of the truesectorial character. It is unusual to find a full set of teeth in adultbears, as some of the premolars invariably drop out. 

It is fully as true of bears as of any other group of large mammals, that our views as to specific distinction are based upon data at presentutterly inadequate, for all the zoological museums of the world do notcontain sufficient material for exhaustive study and comparison. Thepresent writer has examined many of these collections and has nohesitation in admitting that his ideas upon the subject are much lessdefinite than they were ten years ago. It does appear, though, that inNorth America four quite distinct types can be made out. First of theseis the circumpolar species, _Ursus maritimus_, the white or polarbear, which most of us grew up to regard as the very incarnation oftenacious ferocity, but which, as it appears from the recitals oflate Arctic explorers, dies easily to a single shot, and does notseem to afford much better sport than so much rabbit shooting. The others are the great Kadiak bear (_U. Middendorfi_); thegrizzly (_U. Horribilis_), and the black or true American bear(_U. Americanus_). The extent to which the last three maybe subdivided remains uncertain, but the barren-ground bear(_U. Richardsoni_) is surely a valid species of the grizzly type. The grizzlies and the big Alaska bears approach more nearly than_americanus_ to the widespread brown bear (_U. Arctos_) ofEurope and Asia, and the hypothesis is reasonable that they originatedfrom that form or its immediate ancestors, in which case we have theinteresting series of parallel modifications exhibited in the twocontinents, for the large bear of Kamtschatka approaches very nearly tothose of Alaska, while further to the south in America, where theconditions of life more nearly resemble those surrounding _arctos_, these bears have in the grizzlies retained more of their original form. Whether or not the large Pleistocene cave bear (_U. Spelaeus_) was alineal ancestor is questionable, for in its later period, at least, it wascontemporary with the existing European species. The black bear, with itslitter-brother of brown color, seems to be a genuine product of the newworld. 

Many differential characters have been pointed out in the skulls and teethof bears, and to a less extent, in the claws; but while these undoubtedlyexist, the conclusions to be drawn from them are uncertain, for theskulls of bears change greatly with age, and the constancy of thesevariations, with the values which they should hold in classification, we do not yet know. 

 * * * * *

It is not improbable that the reader may leave this brief survey withthe feeling that its admissions of ignorance exceed its affirmations ofcertainty, and such is indeed the case, for the law of scientificvalidity forbids the statement as fact, of that concerning which theleast element of doubt remains. But the real advance of zoologicalknowledge must not thereby be discredited, for it is due to those whohave contributed to it to remember that little more than a generationago these problems of life seemed wrapped in hopeless obscurity, and themethods of investigation which have led to practically all our presentgains, were then but new born, and with every passing year doubts aredispelled, and theories turned into truths. There was no break inphysical evolution when mental processes began, nor will there be in theevolution of knowledge as long as they continue to exist. 

_Arthur Erwin Brown_. 

[Illustration: TROPHIES FROM ALASKA. ]

Big Game Shooting in Alaska

I. 

BEAR HUNTING ON KADIAK ISLAND

Early in April, 1900, I made my first journey to Alaska for the purposeof searching out for myself the best big-game shooting grounds whichwere to be found in that territory. Few people who have not traveled inthat country have any idea of its vastness. Away from the beaten paths, much of its 700, 000 square miles is practically unknown, except to thewandering prospector and the Indian hunter. Therefore, since I couldobtain but little definite information as to just where to go for thebest shooting, I determined to make the primary object of my journey tolocate the big-game districts of southern and western Alaska. 

My first two months were spent in the country adjacent to FortWrangell. Here one may expect to find black bear, brown bear, goats, andon almost all of the islands along the coast great numbers of the smallSitka deer, while grizzlies may these are the black, the grizzly, andthe glacier or blue bear. [3] It is claimed that this last species hasnever fallen to a white man's rifle. It is found on the glaciers fromthe Lynn Canal to the northern range of the St. Elias Alps, and, as itsname implies, is of a bluish color. I should judge from the skins I haveseen that in size it is rather smaller than the black bear. What itlives upon in its range of eternal ice and snow is entirely a subject ofsurmise. 

[Footnote 3: The Polar bear is only found on the coast, and never below61°. It is only found at this latitude when carried down on the ice inBering Sea. ]

[Illustration: THE HUNTER AND HIS GAME. ]

Of all the varieties of brown bears, the one which has probablyattracted most attention is the large bear of the Kadiak Islands. Beforestarting upon my journey I had communicated with Dr. Merriam, Chief ofthe Biological Survey, at Washington, and had learned from him all thathe could tell me of this great bear. Mr. Harriman, while on hisexpedition to the Alaskan coast in 1899, had by great luck shot aspecimen, and in the second volume of "Big Game Shooting" in "TheBadminton Library, " Mr. Clive Phillipps-Wolley writes of the largest"grizzly" of which he has any trustworthy information as being shot onKadiak island by a Mr. J. C. Tolman. These were the only authenticrecords I could find of bears of this species which had fallen to therifle of an amateur sportsman. 

After spending two months in southern Alaska, I determined to visit theKadiak Islands in pursuit of this bear. I reached my destination thelatter part of June, and three days later had started on my shootingexpedition with native hunters. Unfortunately I had come too late in theseason. The grass had shot up until it was shoulder high, making it mostdifficult to see at any distance the game I was after. 

The result of this, my first hunt, was that I actually saw but threebear, and got but one shot, which, I am ashamed to record, was a miss. Tracks there were in plenty along the salmon streams, and some of thesewere so large I concluded that as a sporting trophy a good example ofthe Kadiak bear should equal, if not surpass, in value any other kind ofbig game to be found on the North American continent. This opinionreceived confirmation later when I saw the size of the skins brought inby the natives to the two trading companies. 

 * * * * *

As I sailed away from Kadiak that fall morning I determined that my huntwas not really over, but only interrupted by the long northern winter, and that the next spring would find me once more in pursuit of thisgreat bear. 

It was not only with the hope of shooting a Kadiak bear that I decidedto make this second expedition, but I had become greatly interested inthe big brute, and although no naturalist myself, it was now to be myaim to bring back to the scientists at Washington as much definitematerial about him as possible. Therefore the objects of my second tripwere:

Firstly, to obtain a specimen of bear from the Island of Kadiak;secondly, to obtain specimens of the bears found on the AlaskaPeninsula; and, lastly, to obtain, if possible, a specimen of bear fromone of the other islands of the Kadiak group. With such material Ihoped that it could at least be decided definitely if all the bears ofthe Kadiak Islands are of one species; if all the bears on the AlaskaPeninsula are of one species; and also if the Kadiak bear is found onthe mainland, for there are unquestionably many points of similaritybetween the bears of the Kadiak Islands and those of the AlaskaPeninsula. It was also my plan, if I was successful in all theseobjects, to spend the fall on the Kenai Peninsula in pursuit of thewhite sheep and the moose. 

Generally I have made it a point to go alone on all big-game shootingtrips, but on this journey I was fortunate in having as companion an oldcollege friend, Robert P. Blake. 

My experience of the year before was of value in getting our outfittogether. At almost all points in Alaska most of the necessaryprovisions can be bought, but I should rather advise one to take all butthe commonest necessities with him, for frequently the stocks at thevarious trading posts run low. For this reason we took with us fromSeattle sufficient provisions to last us six months, and from time totime, as necessity demanded, added to our stores. As the rain fallsalmost daily in much of the coast country, we made it a point to supplyourselves liberally with rubber boots and rain-proof clothing. 

On the 6th of March, 1901, we sailed from Seattle on one of the monthlysteamers, and arrived at Kadiak eleven days later. I shall not attemptto describe this beautiful island, but shall merely say that Kadiak isjustly termed the "garden spot of Alaska. " It has numerous deep bayswhich cut into the land many miles. These bays in turn have arms whichbranch out in all directions, and the country adjacent to these latteris the natives' favorite hunting ground for bear. 

[Illustration: LOADED BAIDARKA--BARABARA--BASE OF SUPPLIES, ALASKAPENINSULA. ]

In skin canoes (baidarkas) the Aleuts, paddling along the shore, keep asharp lookout on the nearby hillsides, where the bears feed upon theyoung and tender grass. It was our plan to choose the most likely one ofthese big bays as our shooting grounds, and hunt from a baidarka, according to local custom. 

It may be well to explain here that the different localities of Alaskaare distinctly marked by the difference in the canoes which the nativesuse. In the southern part, where large trees are readily obtained, youfind large dugouts capable of holding from five to twenty persons. AtYakutat, where the timber is much smaller, the canoes, although stilldugouts, have decreased proportionately in size, but from Yakutatwestward the timber line becomes lower and lower, until the western halfof the island of Kadiak is reached, where the trees disappearaltogether, and the dugout gives place to the skin canoe or baidarka. Ihave never seen them east of Prince William Sound, but from this pointon to the west they are in universal use among the Aleuts--a mostinteresting race of people, and a most wonderful boat. 

The natives of Kadiak are locally called Aleuts, but the true Aleuts arenot found east of the Aleutian Islands. The cross between the Aleut andwhite--principally Russian--is known as the "Creole. "

The natives whom I met on the Kadiak Islands seemed to show traces ofJapanese descent, for they resembled these people both in size andfeatures. I found them of docile disposition, remarkable hunters andweather prophets, and most expert in handling their wonderful canoes, with which I always associate them. 

The baidarka is made with a light frame of some strong elastic wood, covered with seal or sea lion skin; not a nail is used in making theframe, but all the various parts are tied firmly together with sinew orstout twine. This allows a slight give, for the baidarka is expected toyield to every wave, and in this lies its strength. There may be one, two, or three round hatches, according to the size of the boat. In thesethe occupants kneel, and, sitting on their heels, ply theirsharp-pointed paddles; all paddling at the same time on the same side, and then all changing in unison to the other side at the will of thebowman, who sets a rapid stroke. In rough water, kamlaykas--large shirtsmade principally of stretched and dried bear gut--are worn, and theseare securely fastened around the hatches. In this way the Aleuts and theinterior of the baidarka remain perfectly dry, no matter how much thesea breaks and passes over the skin deck. 

I had used the baidarka the year before, having made a trip with myhunters almost around the island of Afognak, and believed it to be anideal boat to hunt from. It is very speedy, easily paddled, floats lowin the water, will hold much camp gear, and, when well handled, is mostseaworthy. So it was my purpose this year to again use one in skirtingthe shores of the deep bays, and in looking for bears, which showthemselves in the early spring upon the mountain sides, or roam thebeach in search of kelp. 

The Kadiak bear finds no trouble in getting all the food he wants duringthe berry season and during the run of the various kinds of salmon, which lasts from June until October. At this period he fattens up, andupon this fat he lives through his long winter sleep. When he wakes inthe spring he is weak and hardly able to move, so his first aim is torecover the use of his legs. This he does by taking short walks when theweather is pleasant, returning to his den every night. This lightexercise lasts for a week or so, when he sets out to feed upon the beachkelp, which acts as a purge. He now lives upon roots, principally of thesalmon-berry bush, and later nibbles the young grass. 

These carry him along until the salmon arrive, when he becomesexclusively a fish eater until the berries are ripe. I have been told bythe natives that just before he goes into his den he eats berries only, and his stomach is now so filled with fat that he really eats butlittle. 

The time when the bears go into their winter quarters depends upon theseverity of the season. Generally it is in early November, shortlyafter the cold weather has set in. Most bears sleep uninterruptedlyuntil spring, but they are occasionally found wandering about inmid-winter. My natives seemed to think that only those bears arerestless which have found uncomfortable quarters, and that they leavetheir dens at this time of year solely for the purpose of finding betterones. They generally choose for their dens caves high up on the mountainsides among the rocks and in remote places where they are not likely tobe discovered. The same winter quarters are believed to be used yearafter year. 

The male, or bull bear, is the first to come out in the spring. As soonas he recovers the use of his muscles he leaves his den for good andwanders aimlessly about until he comes upon the track of some female. Henow persistently follows her, and it is at this time that the ruttingseason of the Kadiak bear begins, the period lasting generally from themiddle of April until July. 

In Eagle Harbor, on Kadiak Island, a native, three years ago, during themonth of January, saw a female bear which he killed near her den. Hethen went into the cave and found two very small cubs whose eyes werenot yet open. This would lead to the belief that this species of bearbrings forth its young about the beginning of the new year. At birth thecubs are very small, weighing but little more than a pound and a half, and there are from one to four in a litter. Two, however, is the usualnumber. The mother, although in a state of semi-torpor, suckles thesecubs in the den, and they remain with her all that year, hole up withher the following winter, and continue to follow her until the secondfall, when they leave her and shift for themselves. 

For many years these bears have been so persistently hunted by thenatives, who are constantly patrolling the shores in their skin canoes, that their knowledge of man and their senses of smell and hearing aredeveloped to an extreme degree. They have, however, like most bears, but indifferent sight. They range in color from a light tawny lion to avery dark brown; in fact, I have seen some bears that were almostblack. Many people have asked me about their size, and how they comparein this respect with other bears. The Kadiak bear is naturally extremelylarge. His head is very massive, and he stands high at the shoulders. This latter characteristic is emphasized by a thick tuft of hair whichstands erect on the dorsal ridge just over the shoulders. The largestbear of this kind which I shot measured 8 feet in a straight line fromhis nose to the end of the vertebrae, and stood 51-1/2 inches in astraight line at the shoulders, not including between 6 and 7 inches ofhair. 

Most people have an exaggerated idea of the number of bears on theKadiak Islands. Personally I believe that they are too few ever to makeshooting them popular. In fact, it was only by the hardest kind ofcareful and constant work that I was finally successful in bagging myfirst bear on Kadiak. When the salmon come it is not so difficult to geta shot, but this lying in wait at night by a salmon stream cannotcompare with seeking out the game on the hills in the spring, andstalking it in a sportsmanlike manner. 

It was more than a week after our landing at Kadiak before the weatherpermitted me to go to Afognak, where my old hunters lived, to make ourfinal preparations. One winter storm after another came in quicksuccession, but we did not mind the delay, for we had come early and didnot expect the bears would leave their dens before April. 

I decided to take with me on my hunt the same two natives whom I had hadthe year before. My head man's name was Fedor Deerinhoff. He was aboutforty years of age, and had been a noted sea otter and bear hunter. Insize he was rather larger than the average of his race, and absolutelyfearless. Many stories are told of his hand-to-hand encounters withthese big bears. I think the best one is of a time when he crawled intoa den on his hands and knees, and in the dark, and at close quarters, shot three. He was unable to see, and the bears' heavy breathing was hisonly guide in taking aim. 

Nikolai Pycoon, my other native, was younger and shorter in stature, andhad also a great reputation as a hunter, which later I found was fullyjustified, and furthermore was considered the best baidarka man ofAfognak. He was a nice little fellow, always good natured, always keen, always willing, and the only native whom I have ever met with a truesense of gratitude. 

The year before I had made all arrangements to hire for this season asmall schooner, which was to take us to our various shooting grounds. Iwas now much disappointed to find that the owner of this schooner haddecided not to charter her. We were, therefore, obliged to engage a veryindifferent sloop, but she was fortunately an excellent sea boat. Herowner, Charles Payjaman, a Russian, went with us as my friend'shunter. He was a fisherman and a trapper by profession, and had thereputation of knowing these dangerous island waters well. His knowledgeof Russian we expected to be of great use to us in dealing with thenatives; Alaska was under Russian control for so many years that thatlanguage is the natural local tongue. 

It was the first of April before we got our entire outfit together, andit was not until four days later that the weather permitted us to hoistour sail and start for the shooting grounds, of which it was of theutmost importance that we should make good choice. All the nativesseemed to agree that Kiliuda Bay, some seventy-five miles below the townof Kadiak, was the most likely place to find bear, and so we now headedour boat in that direction. It was a most beautiful day for a start, with the first faint traces of spring in the air. As we skirted theshore that afternoon I sighted, through the glasses, on some low hillsin the distance, bear tracks in the snow. My Aleuts seemed to think thatthe bears were probably near, having come down to the shore in search ofkelp. It promised a pretty fair chance for a shot, but there wasexceedingly bad water about, and no harbor for the sloop to lie, soPayjaman and my natives advised me not to make the attempt. As oneshould take no chances with Alaskan waters, I felt that this was wise, and we reluctantly passed on. 

The next forenoon we put into a large bay, Eagle Harbor, to pick up alocal hunter who was to accompany us to Kiliuda Bay, for both my Aleutsand the Russian were unacquainted with this locality. IgnatiChowischpack, the native whose services we secured, was quite acharacter, a man of much importance among the Aleuts of this district, and one who had a thorough knowledge of the country chosen as a huntingground. 

We expected to remain at Eagle Harbor only part of the day, butunfortunately were storm-bound here for a week. Several times weattempted to leave, but each time had to put back, fearing that theheavy seas we encountered outside would crush in the baidarka, which wascarried lashed to the sloop's deck. It was not until early on themorning of April 12, just as the sun was topping the mountains, that wefinally reached Kiliuda Bay. 

Our hunting grounds now stretched before us as far as the eye couldsee. We had by this time passed the tree area, and it was only here andthere in isolated spots that stunted cottonwoods bordered the salmonstreams and scattered patches of alders dotted the mountain sides. Inmany places the land rolled gradually back from the shore until themountain bases were reached, while in other parts giant cliffs rosedirectly from the water's edge, but with the glasses one could generallycommand a grand view of this great irregular bay, with its long armscutting into the island in all directions. 

We made our permanent camp in a large barabara, a form of house so oftenseen in western Alaska that it deserves a brief description. It is asmall, dome-shaped hut, with a frame generally made of driftwood, andthatched with sods and the rank grass of the country. It has no windows, but a large hole in the roof permits light to enter and serves also asan outlet for the smoke from the fire, which is built on a rough hearthin the middle of the barabara. These huts, their doors never locked, offer shelter to anyone, and are frequently found in the most remoteplaces. The one which we now occupied was quite large, with ample spaceto stow away our various belongings, and we made ourselves mostcomfortable, while our Aleuts occupied the small banya, or Russianbathhouse, which is also generally found by the side of thebarabara. This was to be the base of supplies from which my friend and Iwere to hunt in different directions. 

The morning after reaching our shooting grounds I started with one of mynatives and the local hunter in the baidarka to get the lay of theland. Blake and I agreed that it was wise to divide up the country, bothbecause we could thus cover a much greater territory, and our modes ofhunting differed materially. Although at the time I believed from what Ihad heard that Payjaman was an excellent man, I preferred to hunt in amore careful manner, as is the native custom, in which I had had someexperience the year before. I firmly believe that had Payjaman huntedas carefully as my Aleuts did, my friend would have been moresuccessful. 

We spent our first day skirting the shores of the entire bay, paddlingup to its very head. Ignati pointed out to Fedor all the most likelyplaces, and explained the local eccentricities of the various winds--aknowledge of these being of the first importance in bear hunting. I wasmuch pleased with the looks of the country, but at the same time wasdisappointed to find that in the inner bays there was no trace ofspring, and that the snow lay deep even on the shores down to the highwater mark. Not a bear's track was to be seen, and it was evident thatwe were on the grounds ahead of time. 

We stopped for tea and lunch about noon at the head of the bay. Near bya long and narrow arm of water extended inland some three miles, and itwas the country lying adjacent to this and to the head of the bay that Idecided to choose as my hunting grounds. 

We had a hard time to reach camp that night, for a severe storm suddenlyburst upon us, and a fierce wind soon swept down from the hills, kickingup a heavy sea which continually swept over the baidarka's deck, andwithout kamlaykas on we surely should have swamped. It grew bitterlycold, and a blinding snow storm made it impossible to see any distanceahead, but Ignati knew these waters well, and safely, but half frozen, we reached the main camp just at dark. 

Next day the storm continued, and it was impossible to venture out. Myfriend and I passed the time playing piquet, and listening to ournatives, who talked earnestly together, going over many of their strangeand thrilling hunting experiences. We understood but little Russian andAleut, yet their expressive gestures made it quite possible to catch thedrift of what was being said. It seemed that Ignati had had a brotherkilled a few years ago, while bear hunting in the small bay which liesbetween Eagle Harbor and Kiliuda Bay. The man came upon a bear, whichhe shot and badly wounded. Accompanied by a friend he followed up theblood trail, which led into a thick patch of alders. Suddenly he cameupon a large unwounded male bear which charged him unprovoked, and atsuch close quarters that he was unable to defend himself. Before hiscompanion, who was but a short distance away, could reach him, he waskilled. The bear frightfully mangled the body, holding it down with hisfeet and using his teeth to tear it apart. 

Ignati at once started out to avenge his brother, and killed in quicksuccession six bears, allowing their bodies to remain as a warning tothe other bears, not even removing their skins. 

During the past few years three men while hunting have been killed bybears in the same vicinity as Ignati's brother, two instantly, and oneliving but a short time. I think it is from these accidents that thenatives in this region have a superstitious dread of a "long-tailedbear" which they declare roams the hills between Eagle Harbor andKiliuda Bay. 

The storm which began on the 13th continued until the 17th, and this wasbut one of a series. Winter seemed to come back in all its fury, and Ibelieve that whatever bears had left their winter dens went back to themfor another sleep. It was not until the middle of May that the snowbegan to disappear, and spring with its green grass came. 

All this time I was camped with my natives at the head of the bay, somefifteen miles from our base of supplies. On the 23d of April we firstsighted tracks, but it was not until May 15 that I finally succeeded inbagging my first bear. 

The tracks in the snow indicated that the bears began again to come outof their winter dens the last week in April; and should one wish to makea spring hunt on the Kadiak Islands, the first of May would, I shouldjudge, be a good time to arrive at the shooting grounds. 

When the wind was favorable, our mode of hunting was to leave campbefore daylight, and paddle in our baidarka up to the head of one ofthese long bays, and, leaving our canoe here, trudge over the snow tosome commanding elevation, where we constantly used the glasses upon thesurrounding hillsides, hoping to see bear. We generally returned to campa little before noon, but in the afternoon returned to the lookout, where we remained until it was too dark to see. 

When the wind was blowing into these valleys we did not hunt, for wefeared that whatever bears might be around would get our scent andquickly leave. New bears might come, but none which had once scented uswould remain. For days at a time we were storm-bound, and unable tohunt, or even leave our little tent, where frequently we were obliged toremain under blankets both day and night to keep warm. 

On May 15, by 4 o'clock, I had finished a hurried breakfast, and with mytwo Aleuts had left in the baidarka for our daily watching place. Thiswas a large mound lying in the center of a valley, some three miles fromwhere we were camped. On the right of the mound rose a gently slopinghill with its sides sparsely covered with alders, and at right anglesand before it, extended a rugged mountain ridge with rocky sidesstretching all across our front, while to the left rose another toweringmountain ridge with steep and broken sides. All the surrounding hillsand much of the low country were covered with deep snow. The mountainson three sides completely hemmed in the valley, and their snowy slopesgave us an excellent chance to distinguish all tracks. Such were thegrounds which I had been watching for over a month whenever the wind wasfavorable. 

The sun was just topping the long hill to our right as we reached ourelevated watching place. The glasses were at once in use, and soon anexclamation from one of my natives told me that new tracks wereseen. There they were--two long unbroken lines leading down from themountain on our right, across the valley, and up and out of sight overthe ridge to our left. It seemed as if two bears had simply wanderedacross our front, and crossed over the range of mountains into the baybeyond. 

As soon as my hunters saw these tracks they turned to me, and, withevery confidence, said: "I guess catch. " Now, it must be remembered thatthese tracks led completely over the mountains to our left, and it wasthe most beautiful bit of hunting on the part of my natives to know thatthese bears would turn and swing back into the valley ahead. To followthe tracks, which were well up in the heart of our shooting grounds, would give our wind to all the bears that might be lurking there, andthis my hunters knew perfectly well, yet they never hesitated for onemoment, but started ahead with every confidence. 

We threaded our way through a mass of thick alders to the head of thevalley, and then climbing a steep mountain took our stand on a rockyridge which commanded a wide view ahead and to our left in the directionin which the tracks led. We had only been in our new position half anhour when Nikolai, my head hunter, gripped my arm and pointed high up onthe mountain in the direction in which we had been watching. There Imade out a small black speck, which to the naked eye appeared but a bitof dark rock protruding through the snow. Taking the glasses I made outa large bear slowly floundering ahead, and evidently comingdownward. His coat seemed very dark against the white background, and hewas unquestionably a bull of great size. Shortly after I had thesatisfaction of seeing a second bear, which the first was evidentlyfollowing. This was, without doubt, a female, by no means so large asthe first, and much lighter in color. The smaller bear was apparentlyhungry, and it was interesting to watch her dig through the snow insearch of food. Soon she headed down the mountain side, payingabsolutely no attention to the big male, which slowly followed somedistance in the rear. Shortly she reached a rocky cliff which it seemedimpossible that such a clumsy animal could descend, and I almostdespaired of her making the attempt, but without a pause she wound inand out, seemingly traversing the steepest and most difficult places inthe easiest manner, and headed for the valley below. When the bullreached this cliff we lost sight of him; nor could we locate him againwith even the most careful use of the glasses. He had evidently chosenthis secure retreat to lie up in for the rest of the day. If I couldhave killed the female without alarming him, and then waited on hertrail, I should undoubtedly have got another shot, as he followed herafter his rest. 

It was 8 o'clock when we first located the bears, and for nearly threehours I had a chance to watch one or both of them through powerfulglasses. The sun had come up clear and strong, melting the crust uponthe snow, so that as soon as the female bear reached the steep mountainside her downward path was not an easy one. At each step she would sinkup to her belly, and at times would slip and fall, turning somersaultafter somersault; now and again she would be buried in the snow so deepthat it seemed impossible for her to go either ahead or backward. Thenshe would roll over on her back, and, loosening her hold on the steephillside, would come tumbling and slipping down, turning over and over, sideways and endways, until she caught herself by spreading out all fourlegs. In this way she came with each step and turn nearer andnearer. Finally she reached an open patch on the hillside, where shebegan to feed, digging up the roots of the salmon-berry bushes at theedge of the snow. If now I lost sight of her for a short time, it wasvery difficult to pick her up again even with the glasses, so perfectlydid the light tawny yellows and browns of her coat blend in with thedead grass of the place on which she was feeding. 

The wind had been blowing in our favor all the morning, and for oncecontinued true and steady. But how closely we watched the clouds, tosee that no change in its direction threatened us. 

We waited until the bear had left the snow and was quietly feedingbefore we made a move, and then we slowly worked ahead and downward, taking up a new position on a small ridge which was well to leeward, butstill on the opposite side of the valley from the bear. She seemed in anexcellent position for a stalk, and had I been alone I should have triedit. But the Aleut mode of hunting is to study the direction in whichyour game is working, and then take up a position which it willnaturally approach. 

Taking our stand, we waited, watching with much interest the greatungainly creature as she kept nibbling the young grass and digging uproots. At times she would seem to be heading in our direction, and thenagain would turn and slowly feed away. Suddenly something seemed toalarm her, for she made a dash of some fifty yards down the valley, andthen, seeming to recover her composure, began to feed again, all thewhile working nearer and nearer. The bear was now well down in thebottom of the valley, which was at this point covered with alders andintersected by a small stream. There were open patches in theunderbrush, and it was my intention to shoot when she passed through oneof these, for the ground was covered with over a foot of snow, whichwould offer a very tempting background. 

While all this was passing quickly through my mind, she suddenly madeanother bolt down the valley, and, when directly opposite our position, turned at right angles, crossed the brook, and came straight through thealders into the open, not eighty yards away from us. As she made herappearance I could not help being greatly impressed by the massive headand high shoulders on which stood the pronounced tuft of hair. I hadmost carefully seen to my sights long before, for I knew how much wouldprobably depend on my first shot. It surely seemed as if fortune waswith me that day, as at last I had a fair chance at the game I had comeso far to seek. Aiming with the greatest care for the lungs and heart, Islowly pressed the trigger. The bear gave a deep, angry growl, and bitfor the wound, [4] which told me my bullet was well placed; but she kepther feet and made a dash for the thicket. I was well above, and socommanded a fairly clear view as she crashed through the leaflessalders. Twice more I fired, and each time with the most careful aim. Atthe last shot she dropped with an angry moan. My hunters shook my hand, and their faces told me how glad they were at my final success after somany long weeks of persistent work. Including the time spent last yearand this year, this bear represented eighty-seven days of actualhunting. 

[Footnote 4: When a bullet strikes a Kadiak bear, he will always bitefor the wound and utter a deep and angry growl; whereas of the elevenbears which my friend and I shot on the Alaska peninsula, although they, too, bit for the wound, not one uttered a sound. ]

I at once started down to look at the bear, when out upon the mountainopposite the bull was seen. He had heard the shots and was now oncemore but a moving black speck on the snow, but it will always be amystery to me how he could have heard the three reports of my small-borerifle so far away and against a strong wind. My natives suggested thatthe shots must have echoed, and in this I think they were right; buteven then it shows how abnormally the sense of hearing has beendeveloped in these bears. 

I was sorry to find that the small-bore rifle did not give as great ashock as I had expected, for my first two bullets had gone through thebear's lungs and heart without knocking her off her feet. 

The bear was a female, as we had supposed, but judging from what mynatives said, only of medium size. She measured 6 feet 4 inches in astraight line between the nose and the end of the vertebrae, and 44-5/8inches at the shoulders. The fur was in prime condition, and of anaverage length of 4-1/2 inches, but over the shoulders the mane was twoinches longer. Unfortunately, as in many of the spring skins, there wasa large patch over the rump apparently much rubbed. The general beliefis that these worn patches are made by the bears sliding down hill ontheir haunches on the snow; but my natives have a theory that this iscaused by the bears' pelt freezing to their dens and being torn off whenthey wake from their winter's sleep. 

Although this female was not large for a Kadiak bear, as was proved byone I shot later in the season, I was much pleased with my finalsuccess, and our camp that night was quite a merry one. 

Shortly after killing this bear, Blake and I returned to the tradingpost at Wood Island to prepare for a new hunt, this time to the AlaskaPeninsula. 

II. 

BEAR HUNTING ON THE ALASKA PENINSULA

The year before I had chanced to meet an old pilot who had thereputation of knowing every nook and corner of the Alaskan coast. Hetold me several times of the great numbers of bears that he had oftenseen in a certain bay on the Alaska Peninsula, and advised me moststrongly to try this place. We now determined to visit this bay in agood sized schooner we had chartered from the North American CommercialCompany. 

There were numerous delays in getting started, but finally, on May 31, we set sail, and in two days were landed at our new shootinggrounds. Rarely in modern days does it fall to the lot of amateurs tomeet with better sport than we had for the next month. 

The schooner landed us with our natives, two baidarkas, and all ourprovisions, near the mouth of the harbor. Here we made our base ofsupplies, and the next morning in our two canoes started with ourhunters to explore this wonderful bay. At high tide Chinitna Bay extendsinland some fifteen miles, but at low water is one vast bog of glacialdeposit. Rugged mountains rise on all sides, and at the base of thesemountains there are long meadows which extend out to the high watermark. In these meadows during the month of June the bears come to feedupon the young and tender salt grass. 

There was a long swell breaking on the beach as we left our base ofsupplies, but we passed safely through the line of breakers to thesmooth waters beyond, and now headed for the upper bay. The twobaidarkas kept side by side, and Blake and I chatted together, but allthe while kept the glasses constantly fixed upon the hillsides. We hadhardly gone a mile before a small black bear was sighted; but the windwas unfavorable, and he got our scent before we could land. This lookeddecidedly encouraging, and we continued on in the best of spirits. Aboutmid-day we went on shore, lunched, and then basked in the sun until theafternoon, when we again got into the baidarkas and paddled further upthe bay to a place where a wide meadow extends out from the base of themountains. Here Nikolai, my head hunter, went on shore with theglasses, and raising himself cautiously above the bank, took a long lookat the country beyond. It was at once quite evident that he had seensomething, and we all joined him, keeping well hidden from view. There, out upon the marsh, could be seen two large bears feeding upon the younggrass. They seemed in an almost unapproachable position, and we lay andwatched them, hoping that they would move into a more advantageousplace. After an hour or so they fed back toward the trees, and soonpassed out of sight. 

We matched to see which part of the meadow each should watch, and itfell to my lot to go further up the marsh. I had been only a short timein this place when a new bear came into sight. We now made a mostbeautiful stalk right across the open to within a hundred yards. Allthis while a new dog, which I had bought at Kadiak and called Stereke, had crawled with us flat on his stomach, trembling all over withexcitement as he watched the bear. I had plenty of time to take aim, andwas in no way excited, but missed clean at one hundred yards. At thereport of my rifle Stereke bit himself clear from Nikolai, who washolding him, and at once made for the bear, which he tackled in a mostencouraging manner, nipping his heels, and then quickly getting out ofthe way as the bear charged. But I found that one dog was not enough tohold these bears, and this one got safely away. 

It was a dreary camp that night, for I had missed an easy shot without ashadow of excuse. We pitched our small tent at the extreme edge of themarsh behind a large mass of rocks. I turned in thoroughly depressed, but awoke the next morning refreshed, and determined to retrieve mycareless shooting of the day before. A bad surf breaking on the beachprevented our going further up the bay in our baidarkas, as we hadplanned to do. We loafed in the sun until evening, while our nativeskept constant watch of the great meadow where we had seen the bears theday before. We had just turned in, although at ten o'clock it was stilldaylight, when one of the natives came running up to say that a bear wasin sight, so Blake, with three natives and Stereke, made the stalk. Ihad a beautiful chance to watch it from the high rocks beside ourcamp. The men were able to approach to within some fifty yards, andBlake, with his first shot, hit, and with his third killed the bearbefore it could get into the brush. Stereke, when loosed, acted in agallant manner, and tackled the bear savagely. 

Unfortunately no measurements were taken, but the bear appeared to besomewhat smaller than the female I killed at Kiliuda Bay, and weighed, Ishould judge, some 450 pounds. It appeared higher on the legs and lessmassive than the Kadiak bear, and had a shorter mane, but was of muchthe same tawny color on the back, although darker on the legs and belly. 

Two days later we set out from our camp behind the rocks and paddled ashort distance up the bay. 

Here we left the baidarkas and crossed a large meadow without sightingbear. We then followed some miles the banks of a small stream. Leavingmy friend with his two men, I pushed ahead with my natives toinvestigate the country beyond. But the underbrush was so dense it wasimpossible to see more than a few yards ahead. We had gone somedistance, and Fedor and I had just crossed a deep stream on a ricketyfallen tree, while the other native was following, when I chanced tolook back and saw a small black bear just opposite. He must have smeltus, and, wanting to see what sort of creature man was, had deliberatelyfollowed up our tracks. Nikolai had my rifle on the other side of thebrook, so I snatched up Fedor's and twice tried to shoot; but the safetybolt would not work, and when I had it adjusted the bear showed only oneshoulder beyond a tree. It was just drawing back when I pressed thetrigger. The bullet grazed the tree, was deflected, and a patch of hairwas all that I had for what promised the surest of shots. 

In the afternoon we made for a place which our hunters declared was asure find for bear; but unlike most "sure places, " we sighted our gameeven before we reached the ground. There they were, two large grizzledbrutes, feeding on the salt marsh grass like two cows. We made a mostexciting approach in our baidarkas, winding in and out, across the open, up a small lagoon which cut into the meadow where the bears werefeeding. We got to within two hundred yards when they became suspicious, but could not quite make us out. One now rose on his hind legs to get abetter view, and offered a beautiful chance, but I waited for my friend, whose turn it was to have first shot, and he delayed, thinking that Iwas not ready. The result was that the bears at once made for the woods, and we both missed. 

Stereke again did his part well, catching one of the bears and tacklinghim in a noble manner, turning him and doing his best to hold him, butthis was more than one dog could do, and the bear broke away and soonreached cover. 

I am glad to record that with this day's miss ended some of the mostcareless shooting I have ever done. 

This evening we made our camp on the beach on the other side of thebay. I was up frequently during the night, for bears were constantlymoving about on the mountain side just behind our sleeping place, butalthough I could distinctly hear them, the thick brush prevented mygetting a shot. 

In this latitude there is practically no night during the month of June, and I can recall no more enchanting spot than where we were now camped. Even my hard day's work would not bring sleep, and I lay with myfaithful dog at my feet and gazed on the vast mountains about us, theirsummits capped with snow, while their sides were clothed in the dullvelvet browns of last year's herbage, through which the vivid greens ofa northern summer were rapidly forcing themselves. 

It was after five next morning when we left in our two baidarkas for theextreme head of the bay, where there was another vast meadow. My friendchose to hunt the right side of this marsh, while I took the left. 

On reaching our watching place I settled myself for the day in my furrug, and soon dozed off to finish my night's rest, while my men tookturns with the glasses. About ten o'clock a black bear was sighted along way off, but he soon wandered into the thicket which surrounded themarsh on three sides. At twelve o'clock he appeared again, and we nowcircled well to leeward and waited where two trails met at the edge ofthe meadow, expecting the bear would work down one of them to us. It wasa long tiresome wait, for we were perched upon some tussocks throughwhich the water soon found its way. About five o'clock we returned toour original watching place, where my friend joined me. 

The wind had been at a slant, and although we had worked safely aroundthe bear, he must have got the scent of Blake's party, although a longway off, for my friend reported that the bear was coming in ourdirection, as we had counted upon, when he suddenly threw up his head, gave one whiff, and started for the woods. 

On Friday morning, June 7, we made a three o'clock start from where wehad passed the night on the beach. The sun was not over the mountainsfor another hour, and there was that great charm which comes in theearly dawn of a summer's day. Blake in his baidarka, and I in mine, paddled along, side by side, and pushed up to the extreme head of thebay, where we came upon an old deserted Indian camp of the year before. Numerous stretchers told of their success with bear; but the remains ofan old fire in the very heart of our shooting grounds warned us that inthis section the bears might have been disturbed; for the Alaskan bearis very wary, and is quick to take alarm at any unusual scent. We cameback to our camp on the beach by ten o'clock, and had our firstsubstantial meal of the day; for we had now adopted the Aleutian habitof taking simply a cup of tea and a piece of bread in order to make theearliest of starts each morning. 

After our mid-day breakfast, we usually took a nap until afternoon; butthis day I was not sleepy, and so read for a while, then I loaded myrifle, which I always kept within arm's reach, and was just settling myrugs to turn in, when Stereke gave a sharp bark, and Blake shouted, "Bear. " Seizing my rifle I looked up, and walking toward us on thebeach, just 110 yards away, was a good sized bull bear. My dog at oncemade for him, while Blake jumped for his rifle. The bear was justturning when I fired. He bit for the wound, but uttered no sound, andwas just disappearing in the brush when I fired a hasty second; Blakeand I followed into the thick alders after the dog, which was savagelyattacking the bear. His barking told us where the bear was, and Iarrived just in time to see him make a determined charge at the dog, which quickly avoided him, and just as quickly renewed the attack. 

I forced my way through the alders and got in two close shots, whichrolled him over. It appeared that my first shot had broken his shoulder, as well as cut the lower portion of the heart; but this bear had gonesome fifty yards, and was still on his feet, when I came up and finishedhim off. He was a fair sized bull, six feet two inches in a straightline along the vertebrae, and stood exactly three feet at theshoulders. He had evidently been fighting, for one ear was badly torn, and his skin was much scarred with old and recent wounds. Afterremoving the pelt the carcass was thrown into the bay, so that theremight be no stench, which my natives declared would be enough to spoilany future shooting in this locality. This same afternoon we moved ourcamp to a new marsh, but the wind was changeable, and we saw nothing. 

The next morning we sighted a bear, which fed into the woods before wehad time to come up with him. Shortly after five o'clock the brute madea second appearance, but as the wind had changed and now blew in thewrong direction, a stalk could not be made without our scent beingcarried into the woods, where many bears were apt to be. We made it agreat point never to make a stalk unless the wind was right, for we wereextremely anxious not to spoil the place by diffusing our scent, anddriving away whatever bears might be lurking near. Therefore, many timeswe had a chance to watch bears at only a few hundred yards' distance. 

It was most interesting to see how careful these big animals were, andhow, from time to time, they would feel the wind with their noses, andagain stop feeding and listen. No two bears seemed to be built on quitethe same lines. Some were high at the shoulders and then sloped downtoward the rump and nose; and again, others were saddle-backed; stillothers stood with their front feet directly under them, making a regularcurve at the shoulders; while others had the front legs wide apart, andseemed to form a triangle, the apex of which was at the shoulders. 

Their range of color seemed to be from very dark, silver-tipped, to avery light dirty yellow, but with dark legs and belly. 

This evening, just as we were having our tea, another bear made hisappearance. The first, which we had been watching, evidently heard himcoming through the woods, and as the second came out into the open theformer vanished. The new one was a dirty yellowish white, with very darkbelly and legs, which gave him a most comical appearance. 

The wind still continued unfavorable, and my friend and I passed anextremely interesting evening with the glasses, for this watching game, especially bear, gives me almost as much pleasure as making the actualstalk. 

About ten o'clock the wind changed, and Blake went after the bear, butunfortunately missed at about one hundred yards. 

The following day opened dull, and we spent the morning keeping a sharpwatch on the marsh. About ten o'clock a large bear was seen to come outfrom the trees. The wind was wrong, and as the bear was in anunapproachable position I had to sit with folded arms and watch him. Iused the glasses with much interest until shortly after four o'clock, when he slowly fed into the brush. 

We had just finished supper when we saw another bear in a betterposition, and I proceeded to make the stalk, going part of the way inthe baidarka, for the great meadow was intersected by a stream fromwhich small lagoons made off in all directions. The wind was verybaffling, and although we successfully reached a clump of brush in themiddle of the marsh, the bear for some time continued to graze in anunapproachable spot. We had almost given up hope of getting a shot, when he turned and fed slowly some fifty yards in a new direction, whichwas up-wind. This was our chance. Quickly regaining the baidarka, wepaddled as noiselessly and rapidly as possible up the main stream of themarsh to a small lagoon, which now at high tide had sufficient water tofloat us. 

There was great charm in stalking game in this manner, although I was, in a sense, but a passenger in my natives' hands. But it was fascinatingto watch their keenness and skill as they guided the frail craft roundthe sharp turns, the noiseless use of the paddles, the light in theireye as they constantly stood up in the canoe to keep a hidden gaze uponthe game ahead, watching its every movement as well as the local eddiesand currents in the light evening breeze. All was so in keeping with thesombre leaden clouds overhead, and the grizzled sides of the ungainlybrute, blending in with the background of weather-beaten tree trunks andthe dull gray rocks. And so, silently and swiftly, stopping many timeswhen the bear's head was up, we approached nearer and nearer, until myhead man whispered, _Boudit_ (enough), and I knew that I was tohave a fair shot. Stealthily raising my head above the bank I saw thebear feeding, only seventy-five yards away. Creeping cautiously out ofthe boat I lay flat upon my stomach, rifle cocked and ready, waiting fora good shot. Soon it came. The bear heard some sound in the forest, andraised his head. Now was my chance, and the next second he droppedwithout a sound; he struggled to rise, but I could see he was anchoredwith a broken shoulder. My men were unable to restrain themselves anylonger, and as I shot for the second time, their rifles cracked justafter mine. We now rushed up to close quarters. The bear, shot throughthe lungs, was breathing heavily and rapidly choking. 

Suddenly I heard a yap, and then, out over the marsh, came Stereke atfull speed. I had left him with my friend, as we thought we might haveto do some delicate stalking across the open. He had sighted the bear, and watched our approach all a-tremble, and at the report of my riflethere was no holding him. Over the ground he came in great bounds, andarrived just in time to give the bear a couple of shakes before hebreathed his last. We carried the entire carcass to the baidarka, andeven the cartridge shells were taken away, to avoid tainting the placewith an unusual scent. 

The next day we returned to the main camp, for Fedor, who was ill, hadbecome very weak, and was in no condition to stand any hardships. Weleft him at the main camp in care of Payjaman. He was greatlydepressed, and seemed to give way completely, frequently saying that henever expected to see his home again. Knowing the Aleut's character sowell, I much feared that his mental state might work fatal results. Ourmedicines were of the simplest, and there was but little we coulddo. Fortunately he did recover, but it was not until two weeks later, when our hunt was nearly over, that he began to get better. 

Three days afterward we were back again at our camp behind the rocks. Wehad wanted rain for some time to wash out all scent. Then again bearsare supposed to move about more freely in such weather. Therefore wewere rather pleased when the wind changed, bringing a northwest stormwhich continued all the next day. The lofty mountains were rapidlylosing the snow on their summits, and the night's rain had wroughtmarvels in their appearance, seeming to bring out every shade of greenon their wooded slopes. One of our natives was kept constantly on thelookout, and a dozen times a day both Blake and I would leave our booksand climb to the watching place for a view across the great meadow. Bythis time we knew the bear trails and the most tempting feeding grounds, and the surest approaches to the game when it had once come into theopen. Therefore when I was told this evening that a bear had beensighted, I felt pretty sure of getting a shot. He had not come well outinto the open, and was clearly keeping near cover and working parallelto the brush. If he continued in this direction he would soon be out ofsight. Our only chance was to make a quick approach, and Nikolai and Iwere immediately under way, leaving my dog with my friend, who was toloose him in case I got a shot. 

The wind was coming in great gusts across our front, and the cornerwhere the bear was feeding offered a dangerous place for eddies andback-currents against the mountain side. In order to avoid these, wekept just inside the woods. Nikolai going first showed the greatestskill in knowing just how close to the wind we could go. We quicklyreached the place where we expected to sight the bear, but he was hiddenin the bed of the river, and it was some minutes before we could makeout the top of his head moving above the grass. Then noiselessly wecrawled up as the bear again fed slowly into view. He was now about 125yards away, and offered an excellent shot as he paused and raised hishead to scent the breeze; but Nikolai whispered, "No, " and we workednearer, crawling forward when the bear's head was down, and lying flatand close when his head was up. 

It is curious to note that often when game is being stalked it becomessuspicious, although it cannot smell, hear, or see the stalker;instinct, perhaps--call it what you will. And now this bear turned andbegan moving slowly toward cover. For some time he was hidden fromview, and then, just before he would finally vanish from sight, hepaused a moment, offering a quartering shot. The lower half of his bodywas concealed by the grass, but it was my last chance, and I took it, aiming for the lungs and rather high in order to get a clear shot. I sawas he bit for the wound that the bullet was well placed, and as heturned and lumbered across our front, I fired two more deliberate shots, one going through the fore leg and one breaking a hind leg. 

Nikolai also fired, giving the bear a slight skin wound, and hitting thehind leg just above where one of my bullets had previously struck. Asthe bear entered the brush we both ran up, my hunter going to the leftwhile I went a little below to head the bear off. We soon came upon him, and Nikolai, getting the first sight, gave him another bullet throughthe lungs with my heavy rifle, and in a few moments he rolled over dead. 

It was my thought always to keep a wounded bear from getting into thebrush, as the blood trail would have ruined future shooting. 

I think it important to point out that when my bullet struck this bearhe bit for the wound. As he did so he was turned from his originaldirection, which would have carried him in one bound out of sight amongthe trees, and instead turned and galloped across our front, therebygiving me an opportunity to fire two more shots. It frequently happenedthat bears were turned from their original direction to the sides uponwhich they received the first bullet, and we always gave this mattercareful consideration when making an approach. 

My Aleuts were not permitted to shoot unless we were following up awounded bear in the thick brush; but I found it most difficult to keepthem to this rule. The large hole of the bullet from my . 50-caliber whichNikolai carried made it easy to distinguish his hits, and if a bear hadreceived the mortal wound from his rifle, I should not have kept theskin. 

The pelt of this bear which we had just killed was in excellentcondition, and although he was not fat, he was of fair size, measuring 6feet 3-1/8 inches along the vertebrae. 

Great care was taken as usual to pick up the empty cartridge shells, andwe pulled up the bloody bits of grass, throwing them into a brook, intowhich we put also the bear's carcass. 

The storm continued for several days, and was accompanied by anunfavorable wind, which drew up into all our shooting grounds. We keptquietly in camp, which was so situated that although we were justopposite the great marsh, our scent was carried safely away. Then wewere most careful to have only small fires for our cooking, and we wereextremely particular to select dry wood, so that there would be aslittle smoke as possible. 

All this while we kept a constant watch upon the meadow, but no bearsmade their appearance. 

On the morning of the 19th, my friend and his hunter went up the shoreto investigate a small marsh lying a mile or so from camp. Here they sawthat the grass had been recently nibbled, and that there were freshsigns about. They returned to this spot again that evening and sighted abear. The bear fed quickly up to within sixty-five yards, when Blakerolled him over. This bear was not a large one, and was of the usualtawny color. 

The next morning a bear was seen by my natives in the big meadow by ourcamp, but he did not remain long enough for a stalk. At 9:30 he againcame out into the open, and Nikolai and I made a quick approach, but thebear, although he was not alarmed, did not wait long enough for us toget within range. We had skirted the marsh, keeping just inside of thethicket, and now when the bear disappeared we settled ourselves for along wait should he again come into the open. We were well hidden fromview, and the wind blew slanting in our faces and across our front. Ihad just begun to think that we should not get a shot until the bearcame out for his evening feed, when Nikolai caught my arm and pointedahead. There, slowly leaving the dense edge of the woods, was a newbear, not so large as the first, but we could see at a glance that shehad a beautiful coat of a dark silver-tip color. 

Removing boots and stockings, and circling around, we came out aboutseventy-five yards from where we had last seen the bear; but she hadmoved a short distance ahead, and offered us a grand chance for a closeapproach. Keeping behind a small point which made out into the open, wewere able to crawl up to within fifty yards, and then, waiting until thebear's head was up, I gave her a quartering shot behind theshoulders. She half fell, and bit for the wound, and as she slowlystarted for the woods I gave her another shot which rolled herover. This bear proved to be a female, the first we had shot upon themainland, probably the mate of the bear we had originally attempted tostalk. The skin, although small, was the most beautiful I have everkilled. 

Upon examining the internal effects of my shots, I was disappointed tofind that my first bullet, on coming in contact with one of the ribs, had torn away from the metal jacket and had expanded to, such an extentthat it lost greatly in penetration. I had of late been forced to theconclusion that the small-bore rifle I was using on such heavy gamelacked the stopping force I had credited it with, and that the bulletswere not of sufficient weight. 

The next morning I sent our men to the main camp for provisions, for wenow intended to give this marsh a rest, and go to the head of the bay. They returned that evening, and reported that they had seen a bear onthe mountain side; they had stalked to within close range, and had madean easy kill. They had but one rifle with them, and had taken turns, Ivan having the first shot, while Nikolai finished the bear off. Thisskin was a beautiful one, of light yellowish color, and although our menwanted to present it to us, neither Blake nor I cared to bring it homewith the trophies we had shot. 

On June 23 we turned our baidarkas' bows to the upper bay, at the headof which we ascended a small river that wound through a vast meadowuntil the stream met the mountains. Here we unloaded our simple campgear, and while the men prepared breakfast, Blake and I ascended anelevation which commanded an uninterrupted view of the grassy plain. Nobears were in sight, so we had time and undisturbed opportunity to enjoythe beauty of the scene. We lay for some time basking in the sun, talking of books and people, and of many subjects of commoninterest. Now and then one would take the glasses and scan the outskirtsof the vast meadow which stretched before us. All at once Blake gave alow exclamation and pointed to the west. I followed the direction of hisgaze, and saw four bears slowly leaving the woods. They were at somedistance, and we did not think we had time to reach them before theywould probably return to the underbrush for their mid-day sleep, so forthe present we let them go. 

After breakfast, as they were still In the same place, we attempted thestalk, going most of the way in our baidarkas, winding in and outthrough the meadow in the small lagoons which intersected it in alldirections. Every little while the men would ascend the banks with theglasses, thus keeping a watchful eye upon the bears' movements. Takinga time when they had fed into the underbrush, we made a quick circle toleeward over the open, then reaching the edge of the thicket, weapproached cautiously to a selected watching place. We reached thisspot shortly after one o'clock. The bears had entered the woods, so wesettled ourselves for a long wait. It was Blake's turn to shoot, whichmeant that he was to have an undisturbed first shot at the largest bear, and after he had fired I could take what was left. 

Just before three o'clock three bears again made their appearance. Twowere yearlings which in the fall would leave their mother and shift forthemselves, and one much larger, which lay just at the edge of theunderbrush. Had these yearlings not been with the mother she would nothave come out so early in the afternoon, and, as it was, she kept in theshadow of the alders, while the two smaller ones fed out some distancefrom the woods. 

We now removed our boots, and, with Stereke well in hand, for he smeltthe bears and was tugging hard on his collar, noiselessly skirted thewoods, keeping some tall grass between the bears and ourselves. In thisway we approached to within one hundred yards. Twice one of the smalleranimals rose on his hind legs and looked in our direction; but the windwas favorable, and we were well concealed, so they did not take alarm. 

My friend decided to shoot the mother, while I was to reserve my fireuntil after his shot. I expected that at the report of his rifle thebear I had chosen would pause a moment in surprise, and thus offer agood standing shot. As my friend's rifle cracked, the bear I hadselected made a sudden dash for the woods, and I had to take him on therun. At my first shot he turned a complete somersault, and then, quicklyspringing up, again made a dash for cover. I fired a second time, androlled him over for good and all. Stereke was instantly slipped, andmade at once for my bear. By the time we had run up he was shaking andbiting his hindquarters in a most approved style. We at once put himafter the larger bear, which Blake had wounded, and his bark in thethick alders told us he had located her. We all followed in and foundthat the bear, although down, was still alive. Blake gave her a finalshot through the lungs. 

The third bear got away, but I believe it was wounded by Nikolai. Theone that Blake had killed was the largest female we got on thePeninsula, measuring 6 feet 6 feet 6-1/2 inches along the vertebrae. 

It is interesting to note that the two yearlings differed greatly incolor. One was a grizzled brown, like the mother, while the other wasvery much lighter, of a light dirty yellowish color. 

We had watched these bears for some hours in the morning, and I feelpositive that the mother had no cubs of this spring with her; yet onexamination milk was found in her breasts. My natives told me thatfrequently yearling cubs continue to suckle, and surely we had positiveproof of this with the large female bear. 

On our way back to camp that night we saw two more bears on the otherside of the marsh, but they did not stay in the open sufficiently longto allow us to come up. 

The mosquitoes had by this time become almost unbearable, and it waslate before they permitted us to get to sleep. About 3 A. M. It began torain, but I was so tired that I slept on, although my pillow andblankets were soon well soaked. As the rain continued, we finally put upour small tent; but everything had become thoroughly wet, and we passeda most uncomfortable day. 

In the afternoon a black bear appeared not far from our campingplace. My friend went after this with his hunter, who made a mostwonderful stalk. The bear was in an almost unapproachable position, andthe two men appeared to be going directly down wind; but Ivan insistedthat there was a slight eddy in the breeze, and in this he must havebeen correct, for he brought Blake up to within sixty yards, when myfriend killed the bear with a bullet through the brain. 

I think it is interesting to note that our shooting grounds were theextreme western range of the black bear. A few years ago they were notfound in this locality, but it is quite evident that they are each yearworking further and further to the westward. 

The next day the heavy rain still continued. The meadow was now onevast bog, and the small lagoons were swollen into deep and rapidstreams. Everything was wet, and we passed an uncomfortable day. Ourtwo hunters were camped about fifty yards off under a big rock, and Ithink must have had a pretty hard time of it, but all the while theykept a sharp lookout. 

About one o'clock the men reported that a large bear had been seen somedistance off, but that it had remained in sight only a short time. Weexpected this bear would again make his appearance in the afternoon, andin this surmise we were correct, for he came out into the open threehours later, when Nikolai and I with Stereke made the stalk. We circledwell to leeward, fording the many rapid streams with greatdifficulty. The rain had melted the snow on the hills, and we frequentlyhad to wade almost up to our shoulders in this icy water. 

In crossing one of the lagoons Stereke was carried under some fallentrees, and for a while I very much feared that my dog would bedrowned. The same thing almost happened to myself, for the swift currenttwice carried me off my feet. 

The bear had fed well into the open, and it was impossible, even by themost careful stalking, to get nearer than a small patch of tall grassabout 175 yards away. I put up my rifle to shoot, but found that thefront sight was most unsteady, for I was wet to the skin and shaking allover with cold. Half expecting to miss, I pressed the trigger, and wasnot greatly surprised to see my bullet splash in the marsh just over thebear's head. He saw the bullet strike on the other side, and now came inour direction, but Stereke, breaking loose from Nikolai, turned him. Henow raced across our front at about 125 yards, with the dog in closepursuit. This gave me an excellent chance, and I fired three moreshots. At my last, I saw the bear bite for his shoulder, showing that mybullet was well placed. He continued to dash ahead, when Nikolai fired, also hitting him in the shoulder with the heavy rifle. He dropped, butgamely tried to rise and face Stereke, who savagely attacked hisquarters. Nikolai now fired again, his bullet going in at the chest, raking him the entire length, and lodging under the skin at the hindknee joint. Unfortunately this bear fell in so much water that it wasimpossible to take any other accurate measurement than the one along hisback. This was the largest bear we shot on the mainland, and the onemeasurement that I was able to take was 6 feet 10 inches along thevertebrae. 

[Illustration: THE HUNTER AND HIS HOME]

On examining the internal effects of his wounds, I found that my bullethad struck the shoulder blade and penetrated one lung, but had gone topieces on coming in contact with the bone. Although it would haveeventually proved a mortal wound, the shock at the time was notsufficient to knock the bear off his feet. 

The next morning the storm broke, and we started back to our camp behindthe rocks, for the skins we had recently shot needed to be cleaned anddried. We reached camp that afternoon, where I found my old hunter, Fedor, who was now better, and had come to join us. He had arrived thenight before, and reported that he had seen three bears on the marsh. Hesaid he had watched them all the evening, and that the next morning twomore had made their appearance. He could no longer withstand thistemptation, and just before we had arrived had shot a small black bearwith an excellent skin. 

Two days after, a bear was reported in the meadow, and as it was myfriend's turn to shoot, he started with his hunter to make the stalk. Itwas raining at the time, and I was almost tempted to lie among myblankets; but my love of sport was too strong, and, armed with powerfulglasses, I joined the men on the rocks to watch the hunters. 

The bear had fed well out into the meadow not far from a small clump oftrees. In order to reach this clump of trees, Blake and Ivan wereobliged to wade quite a deep stream, and had removed theirclothes. Unfortunately my friend carelessly left his coat, in the pocketof which were all the extra cartridges for his and Ivan's rifles. 

I saw them reach the clump of trees, and then turned the glasses on thebear. At the first shot he sprang back in surprise, while Blake's bulletwent high. The bear now located the shot, and began a quick retreat tothe woods, when one of my friend's bullets struck him, rolling him over. He instantly regained his feet, and continued making for cover, walkingslowly and looking back over his shoulder all the while. Blake now firedanother shot, and again the bear was apparently badly hit. He moved atsuch a slow pace that I thought he had surely received a mortal wound. 

Entirely against orders, Ivan now shot three times in quick succession, hitting the bear with one shot in the hind leg, his other two shotsbeing misses. Blake now rushed after the bear with his hunter followingsome fifty yards behind, and approached to within ten steps, when hefired his last cartridge, hitting the bear hard. The beast fell upon itshead, but once more regaining its feet, continued toward the woods. Atthis point Ivan fired his last cartridge, but missed. The bear continuedfor several steps, while the two hunters stood with empty rifleswatching. Suddenly, quick as a flash, he swung round upon his hind legsand gave one spring after Blake, who, not understanding his Aleut'sshouts not to run, started across the marsh, with the bear in closepursuit. At every step the bear was gaining, and Ivan, appreciating thatunless the bear's attention was distracted, my friend would soon bepulled down, began waving his arms and shouting at the top of his voice, in order to attract the bear's attention from Blake. The latter sawthat his hunter was standing firm, and, taking in the situation, suddenly stopped. The bear charged to within a few feet of the two men;but, when he saw their determined stand, paused, and, swinging his headfrom side to side, watched them for some seconds, apparently undecidedwhether to charge home or leave them. Then he turned, and, looking backover his shoulder, made slowly for the woods. 

This bear while charging had his head stretched forward, ears flat, andteeth clinched, with his lips drawn well back, and his eyes glaring. Iam convinced that it was only Ivan's great presence of mind whichprevented a most serious accident. 

It is a strange fact that a well placed bullet will knock the fight outof such game; but if they are once thoroughly aroused it takes much morelead to kill them. When they had got more cartridges my friend with twonatives proceeded to follow this bear up; but though they tracked himsome miles, he was never recovered. 

The Aleuts when they follow up a wounded bear in thick cover, strip tothe skin, for they claim in this way they are able to move with greaterfreedom, and at the same time there are no clothes to catch in the brushand make noise. They go slowly and are most cautious, for frequentlywhen a bear is wounded, if he thinks that he is being pursued, he willswing around on his own trail and spring out from the side upon thehunters. 

The next day I started with my two natives to visit a meadow well up thebay. 

As we had but a day or two left before the schooner would come to takeus away, we headed in the only direction in which the wind wasfavorable. We left camp about three o'clock in the afternoon, followingthe shore with the wind quartering in our faces. We had gone but a milefrom camp when I caught an indistinct outline of a bear feeding on thegrass at the edge of the timber, about 125 yards away. I quickly fired, missing through sheer carelessness. 

At the report the bear jumped sideways, unable to locate the sound, andmy next bullet struck just above his tail and ranged forward into thelungs. Fedor now fired, missing, while I ran up with Nikolai, firinganother shot as I ran, which knocked the bear over. Stereke savagelyattacked the bear, biting and shaking him, and seeing that he wasbreathing his last, I refrained from firing again, as the skin wasexcellent. 

This bear had had an encounter with a porcupine. One of his paws wasfilled with quills, and in skinning him we found that some quills hadworked well up the leg and lodged by the ankle joint, making a mostloathsome wound. 

This bear was almost as large as the one I had last shot at the head ofthe bay, and his pelt made a grand trophy. I was much disgusted withmyself that afternoon for missing my first shot. It is not enough simplyto get your bear, but one should always endeavor to kill with the firstshot, otherwise much game will be lost, for the first is almost alwaysthe easiest shot, hence one should kill or mortally wound at thatchance. 

This was the last bear that we shot on the Alaska Peninsula. I had beenfortunate in killing seven brown bears, while Blake had killed threebrown and one black, and our natives had killed one brown and one blackbear, making a total of thirteen between the 7th and 28th of June. 

The skulls of these brown bears we sent to Dr. Merriam, Chief of theBiological Survey, at Washington, and they proved to be most interestingfrom a scientific point of view, for from them the classification of thebears of the Alaska Peninsula has been entirely changed, and it seemsthat we were fortunate enough to bring out material enough to establisha new species as well as a new sub-species. 

The teeth of these two kinds of bears show a marked and uniformdifference, proving conclusively that there is no interbreeding betweenthe species. I was told by Dr. Merriam that the idea which is socommonly believed, that different species of bears interbreed like dogs, is entirely wrong. 

III. 

MY BIG BEAR OF SHUYAK

As I had been fortunate in shooting bears upon the Island of Kadiak andthe Alaska Peninsula, nothing remained but for me to obtain a specimenfrom one of the outlying islands of the Kadiak group, to render my tripin every way successful. 

I therefore determined to take my two natives and hunt from a baidarkathe deep bays of the Island of Afognak, while Blake, not yet havingobtained his bear from Kadiak, went back to hunt there. 

He had been extremely good to his men, and in settling with them on hisreturn from the Alaska Peninsula had good-naturedly paid the excessivedemands they made. The result was that his kindness was mistaken forweakness, and just as he was about to leave his hunters struck for anincrease of pay. He sent them to the right-about, and fortunatelysucceeded in filling their places. 

A sportsman in going into a new country owes it to those who follow toresist firmly exorbitant demands and at the same time to be fair andjust in all his dealings. 

I have already described bear hunting in the spring, when we stalked ourgame upon the snowy hillsides, and again on the Alaska Peninsula, wherewe hunted across the open on foot, and also in the baidarka. I will nowspeak of another form. 

Toward the end of June the red salmon begin to run. These go up only thestreams that have their sources in lakes. After the red salmon, come thehumpbacks, and after the humpbacks, the dog salmon. Both of these latterin great numbers force their way up all the streams, and are thefavorite food of the bears, which come down from the mountains by deep, well-defined trails to catch the fish in the shallow streams. When thesalmon have begun to run, the only practical way of hunting these bearsis by watching some likely spot on the bank of a stream. 

Early in July Blake and I parted, intending to meet again two weekslater. My friend sailed away in a small schooner, while I left with mytwo natives in the baidarka. In Fedor's place I had engaged a native bythe name of Lofka. We three paddled with a will, as we were anxious toreach a deep bay on the north side of the Island of Afognak as soon aspossible. 

This was all familiar country to me, for I had spent over a month inthis locality the year before, and as we camped for the night I couldhardly realize that twelve months had gone by since I left thisbeautiful spot. For the Island of Afognak, with its giant cliffs anddeep bays, is to my mind one of the most picturesque regions I have everseen. 

The next morning the wind was unfavorable, but in the afternoon we wereable to visit one of the salmon streams. The red salmon had come, but itwould be another week or more before the humpbacks would begin theirrun. It was a bleak day, with the rain driving in our faces. We forcedour way up the banks of a stream for some miles, following well-definedbear trails through the tall grass. Some large tracks were seen, but wesighted no game. We returned to camp after ten o'clock that night, wetto the skin and chilled through. The following day was a repetition ofthis, only under worse weather conditions, if that were possible. 

I now decided to push on to a large bay on the northeast side of theisland. This is locally known as Seal Bay, and is supposed to be withoutquestion the best hunting ground on Afognak. 

Unfortunately a heavy wind detained us in Paramonoff Bay for twodays. The morning after the storm broke we made a four o'clock start. There was a strong favoring breeze, and we made a sail of one of theblankets. The baidarka fairly flew, but it was rather ticklish work, asthe sea was quite rough. Early that afternoon we turned into the narrowstraits which lie between the islands of Afognak and Shuyak. Shuyak isuninhabited, but some natives have hunting barabaras there. Formerlythis island contained great numbers of silver gray foxes. A few yearsago some white trappers visited it and put out poison. The result wasthe extermination of all the foxes upon the island, for not only thefoxes that ate the poison died, but the others which ate the poisonedcarcasses. The hunters obtained but one skin, as the foxes died intheir holes or in the woods, and were not found until their pelts werespoiled. This is a fair example of the great need for Alaskan game laws. 

At the present time Shuyak is rich in bear and in land otter, and I canimagine no better place for a national game preserve. It has lakes andsalmon streams, and would be an ideal place to stock. 

The straits between Shuyak and Afognak are extremely dangerous, for thegreat tides from Cook Inlet draw through this narrow passage. My nervewas tested a bit as the baidarka swept by the shore, for had it once gotwell started we should have been drawn into the rapids and then into along line of angry breakers beyond. At one point it seemed as if we wereheading right into these dangerous waters, and then abruptly turning ata sharp angle, we glided around a point into a shallow bay. Circlingthis shore we successfully passed inside the line of breakers and soonmet the long ground swell of the Pacific, while Seal Bay stretched formany miles inland on the other side. 

It had been a long day, but as the wind was favorable we stopped onlyfor a cup of tea and then pushed on to the very head of the bay. Here, at the mouth of a salmon stream, we came upon many fresh bear tracks, and passed the night watching. As we had seen nothing by four o'clock inthe morning, we cautiously withdrew, and, going some distance down theshore, camped in an old hunting barabara. It had been rather a longstretch, when one considers that we had breakfasted a little overtwenty-four hours before. Watching a salmon stream by night is poorsport, but it is the only kind of hunting that one can do at this timeof the year. 

I slept until seven o'clock, when the men called me, and after a cup oftea we started for the salmon stream, which we followed up beyond wherewe had watched it the night previous. We were very careful to wade so asnot to give our scent to any bears which might approach the stream frombelow. There were many tracks and deep, well-used trails leading in alldirections, while every few yards we came upon places where the tallgrass was trampled down, showing where bears had been fishing. Thesebear trails are quite a feature of the Alaskan country, and some of themare two feet wide and over a foot deep, showing that they have been inconstant use for many years. 

That night we heard a bear pass within ten yards of us, but could notsee it. We returned to camp next morning at five o'clock, and I wrote upmy journal, for this night work is extremely confusing, and onecompletely loses track of the days unless careful. 

My men came to me after their mid-day sleep with very cheerfulcountenances, and assured me that there was no doubt but that I shouldsurely soon meet with success, for the palm of Nikolai's hand had beenitching, and he had dreamed of blood and a big dog fighting, whileLofka's eyelid trembled. My hunters told me in all seriousness thatthese signs never failed. 

In the afternoon we decided to watch a new place. We carried thebaidarka up a small stream and launched it in quite a large andpicturesque lake. We slowly paddled along the shores and watched nearthe mouths of several salmon streams. By twelve o'clock we had not evenseen a track, so I decided to return to camp and get some much neededsleep. The natives were to call me early the next morning, for I haddecided to return to Paramonoff Bay. 

I think this was the only time in my hunting life that I wasdeliberately lazy; but, although my natives called me several times, Islept right on until nine o'clock. I was strongly tempted when we gotunder way to start back by continuing around the Island of Afognak; butNikolai was anxious to have me give Paramonoff Bay another trial. Hethought the run of the humpback salmon might have begun since we left, and if this was so, we were likely to find some large bears near thestreams we had watched the week before. I had great confidence in hisjudgment, and therefore decided to retrace our steps. 

We made a start about ten o'clock, but after a couple of hours'paddling, when we had met a fair tide to help us on, I lit my pipe andallowed my men to do all the work, while I lay back among my rugs halfdreaming in the charm of my surroundings. Myriads of gulls flewoverhead, uttering their shrill cries, while now and then the blackoyster-catchers with their long red bills would circle swiftly aroundthe baidarka, filling the air with their sharp whistles, and seeminglymuch annoyed at our intrusion. Many different kinds of ducks rose beforeus, and the ever-present eagles watched us from the lofty rocks. We soonturned the rugged headland and were once more in the swift tide ofShuyak Straits, where the water boiled and eddied about us as we spedquickly on. 

Nikolai now pointed out one of his favorite hunting grounds for seals, and asked if he might not try for one; so we turned into a big bay, andhe soon had the glasses in use. He at once sighted several lying on somerocks, and we had just started in their direction when Nikolai suddenlystopped paddling, again seized the glasses, and looked excitedly acrossthe straits to the Shuyak shore. Following the direction of his gaze Isaw upon the beach a black speck which my native at once pronounced tobe a bear. He was nosing around among some seaweed and turning over therocks in search of food. Each one of us now put all his strength intoevery stroke in order to reach the other side before the bear couldwander off. We cautiously landed behind some big rocks, and quicklyremoving our boots my hunter and I were soon on shore and noiselesslypeering through the brush to the place where we had last seen the bear;but he had disappeared. 

The wind was favorable, and we knew that he had not been alarmed. Ittook us some time to hit off his trail, for he had wandered in alldirections before leaving this place; but after it was once found, hisfootprints in the thick moss made tracking easy, and we moved rapidlyon. We had not expected a long stalk, and our feet were badly punishedby the devil clubs which were here most abundant. We could see by thetracks that the bear had not been alarmed, and knew that we should sooncome up with him. After a mile or so the trail led in the direction of alow marsh where the coast line makes a big bend inward, so apparently wehad crossed a long point into a bay beyond. 

I at once felt sure that the bear was near, having probably come to thisbeach to feed, and as Nikolai looked at me and smiled I knew he, too, felt that we were on a warm trail. 

We had just begun to descend toward the shore when I thought I heard aslight noise ahead. Keeping my eyes fixed in that direction, Iwhispered to Nikolai, who was standing a few feet in front of me, intently peering to the right. Suddenly I caught just a glimpse of atawny, brownish bit of color through the brush a short distanceahead. Quickly raising my rifle I had just a chance for a snap shot, andthe next instant a large hear made a dash through some thickunderbrush. It was but an indistinct glimpse which I had had, and beforeI could throw another cartridge into the barrel of my rifle the bear wasout of sight. Keeping my eyes moving at about the rate of speed Ijudged he was going, I fired again through the trees, and at once a deepand angry growl told me that my bullet had gone home. 

Then we raced ahead, my hunter going to the left while I entered thethick brush into which the bear had disappeared. I had gone but a shortdistance when I heard Nikolai shoot three times in rapid succession, andas quickly as I could break through I hurried in his direction. Itseemed that as we separated, Nikolai had at once caught sight of thebear slowly making away. He immediately fired but missed; at the reportof his rifle the bear turned and came toward him, but was too badlywounded by my first two shots to be dangerous. At close range Nikolaifired two more shots, and it was at this moment that I joined him. Thebear was down, but trying hard to get upon his feet, and evidently in anangry mood, so I ran up close and gave him another shot, which againknocked him over. 

Now for the first time I had a good view of the bear, which proved to bea very large one. As my men declared that this was one of the largestthey had ever seen, I think we may safely place it as a fair example ofthe Kadiak species. Unfortunately I had no scales with me, and couldnot, therefore, take its weight; but the three of us were unable tobudge either end from the ground, and after removing the pelt thecarcass appeared to be as large as a fair sized ox. We had muchdifficulty in skinning him, for he fell on his face, and it took us somehalf hour even to turn him over; we were only able to do this by usinghis legs as levers. It required over two hours to remove the pelt. Then we had tea and shot the bear all over again many times, as we satchatting before the fire. 

It seemed that at the time when I had first caught sight of this bear, Nikolai had just located the bear which we had originally seen and werefollowing, and it was a great piece of luck my taking this snap shot, for the other bear was much smaller. 

We took the skin and skull with us, while I made arrangements with mynatives to return some months later and collect all the bones, for Idecided to present the entire skeleton to the National Museum. 

It was six o'clock when we again made a start. I had a deep sense ofsatisfaction as I lay lazily back in the baidarka with the large skin atmy feet, only occasionally taking the paddle, for it had been a hardtrip, and I felt unlike exerting myself. We camped that night in ahunting barabara which belonged to Nikolai, and was most picturesquelysituated on a small island. 

My natives were extremely fond of bear meat, and they sat long into thenight gorging themselves. Each one would dig into the kettle with hisfork, and bringing out a big chunk would crowd as much as possible intohis mouth, and holding it there with his teeth would cut off with hishunting knife a liberal portion, which he would swallow after a munch ortwo. 

I had tried to eat Kadiak bear before, but it has rather a bitter taste, and this one was too tough to be appetizing. The flesh of the bearswhich we had killed on the Alaska Peninsula was excellent and withoutthis strong gamy flavor. [5]

[Footnote 5: The true Kadiak bear is found only on the Kadiak Islandsand not on the mainland. ]

The next morning we made an early start, for to save this large skin Ihad decided to push on with all haste to the little settlement ofAfognak, where I had arranged to meet my friend some days later. It wasa beautiful morning, and once more we had a favoring breeze. Some fortymiles across Shelikoff Straits was the Alaskan shore. The rugged, snow-clad mountains seemed to be softened when seen through the hazyblue atmosphere. One white-capped peak boldly pierced a line of cloudsand stood forth against the pale blue of the sky beyond; while the greatDouglas Glacier, ever present, wound its way down, down to the verysea. It was all grandly beautiful, and seemed In keeping with the day. 

We paddled steadily, stopping only once for tea, and at six o'clock thatevening were back at the little fishing hamlet of Malina Place. Here Iwas asked to drink tea with a man whom my hunters told me had killedmany bears on these islands. 

This man said that at times there were no bears on Shuyak, and thatagain they were there in great numbers, showing that they freely swimfrom Afognak across the straits, which, at the narrowest point, are somethree miles wide. 

[Illustration: BAIDARKA. ]

While I was having tea in one of the barabaras I heard much shootingoutside, which announced the return of a sea otter party that had beenhunting for two months at Cape Douglas. It was a beautiful sight, thisfleet of twenty odd baidarkas, the paddles all rising and falling inperfect time, and changing sides without a break. There is nothing moregraceful than one of these canoes when handled by expert Aleuts. Thesenatives had already come forty miles that day, and were now going tostop only long enough for tea, and then push on to the little settlementof Afognak Place, some twenty-five miles away, where most of themlived. In one of the canoes I saw a small chap of thirteen years. He wasthe chief's son, and already an expert in hunting and in handling thebaidarka. So is the Aleut hunter trained. 

As it had been a very warm day I feared that the skin mightspoil. Therefore I concluded to continue to Afognak Place withoutcamping for the night, and so we paddled on and on. As darkness came, the mountains seemed to rise grander and more majestic from the water oneither side of us. At midnight we again stopped for tea, and while wesat by the fire the host of baidarkas of the sea otter party silentlyglided by like shadows. We joined them, for my men had much to tell oftheir four months with the white hunter, and many questions were askedon both sides. 

Some miles from Afognak the baidarkas drew up side by side in a long, even line, our baidarka joining in. _Drasti_ and _Chemi_[6]came to me from all sides, for I had from time to time met most of thenative hunters of this island, and they seemed to regard me as quite oneof them. 

[Footnote 6: Russian and Aleut for "How do you do?"]

When all the straggling baidarkas had caught up and taken their placesin the line, the chief gave the word _Kedar_ ("Come on"), and weall paddled forward, and just as the sun was rising above the hills wereached our journey's end. 

Two days later my friend joined me. He also had been successful, and hadkilled a good sized male bear in Little Uganuk Bay on Kadiak Island. 

Our bear hunt was now over, and we had been fortunate in accomplishingall we had hoped for. 

IV. 

THE WHITE SHEEP OF KENAI PENINSULA

The last of July Blake and I sailed from the Kadiak Islands, and oneweek later were landed at the little settlement of Kenai, on the KenaiPeninsula. 

The mountains of this region are unquestionably the finest big-gameshooting grounds in North America at the present day. Here one mayexpect to find four different kinds of bears--black, two species ofbrown, and the Alaska grizzly--the largest of moose, and the Kenai formof the white sheep (_Ovis dalli_). 

These hills lie back from the coast some thirty miles, and may bereached by one of several rivers. It takes a couple of days to ascendsome of these streams, but we determined to select a country moredifficult to enter, thinking it would be less often visited by the localnative hunters. We therefore chose the mountains lying adjacent to theKenai Lake--a district which it took from a week to ten days to reach. 

On August 14, shortly after noon, we started up the river which was tolead us to our shooting grounds. One cannot oppose the great tides ofCook Inlet, and all plans are based on them. Therefore we did not leaveuntil the flood, when we were carried up the stream some twelvemiles--the tide limit--where we camped. 

The next morning we were up at daylight, for at this point began thehard river work. There was much brush on the banks, but our nativesproved themselves most expert in passing the line, for from now on untilwe reached the lake our boats had to be towed against a swift current. 

That day we made about eight miles, and camped shortly after fiveo'clock. It rained hard during the night, and the next morning brokecloudy. The river for the first two days wound through the lowlands, butfrom this point on the banks seemed higher and the current perceptiblyswifter, while breaking water showed the presence of rocks under thesurface. The country back from the stream began to be more rolling, andas the river occasionally made some bold bend the Kenai Mountains couldbe seen in the distance. 

Again it rained hard during the night and continued well on into thenext morning, so we made a late start, breaking camp at eight o'clock. Spruce, alders, willows, and birch were the trees growing along thebanks, and we now passed through the country where the moose rangeduring the summer months. Already the days had become perceptiblyshorter, and there was also a feeling of fall in the air, for summer isnot long in this latitude. 

At this point in the river we encountered bad water, and all hands wereconstantly wet, while the natives were in the glacial stream up to theirwaists for hours at a time. Therefore we made but little progress. Thatnight there was a heavy frost, and the next morning dawned bright andclear. The day was a repetition of the day before, and the natives wereagain obliged to wade with the tow-line most of the way. But they were agood-natured lot, and seemed to take their wetting as a matter ofcourse. About ten o'clock the next morning we reached the Kenai Rapids, where the stream narrows and the water is extremely bad, for the currentis very swift and the channel full of rocks. We navigated this placesafely and came out into the smooth water beyond. Here we had tea and agood rest, for we felt that the hardest part of this tiresome journeywas over. Above the rapids there are a few short stretches of lesstroubled water where the oars can be used; but these are few and farbetween, and one must count upon warping the boat from tide water towithin two miles of the lake--an estimated distance of betweenthirty-five and forty miles. 

We had hardly got started the following day before it began to rainheavily. We were soon wet to the skin and thoroughly chilled, but wekept on until late in the afternoon, when we camped in a small Indiancabin some three miles from the lake. 

It stormed hard during the night with such heavy wind that we muchfeared that we should be unable to cross the lake the next day. In themorning, however, the wind had gone down, and we made an earlystart. Just before reaching the mouth of the river we sighted game forthe first time. A cow moose with her calf were seen on the bank. Theystood idly watching our boats for a short time, and then slowly ambledoff into the brush. 

Occasionally as the river had made some big bend we had been able tosight the mountains which were to be our shooting grounds. Day by daythey had grown nearer and nearer, and finally, after one week of thistoilsome travel, we glided from the river to the crescent-shaped lake, and they now rose close before us. 

This range of hills with their rough and broken sides compares favorablyin grandeur with the finest of Alaskan scenery. Half way up their slopeswas a well defined timber line, and then came the stunted vegetationwhich the autumn frosts had softened into velvet browns in deep contrastto the occasional berry patches now tinged a brilliant crimson; andbeyond, the great bleak, open tablelands of thick moss sloped gentlyupward to the mountain bases; and above all, the lofty peaks of dullgray rock towered in graceful curves until lost in the mist. Great banksof snow lay in many of the highest passes, and over all the landscapethe sun shone faintly through leaden and sombre storm clouds. 

Such was my first near view of the Kenai Mountains, and, as I learned toknow them better, they seemed to grow more awe-inspiring and beautiful. 

When we reached Kenai Lake, Blake and I decided that it would probablybe the wisest plan to divide things up into two separate shootingoutfits. We could then push over the hills in different directionsuntil we came upon the sheep. Each would then make his own shootingcamp, and our natives would carry out the heads we might shoot to ourunited base of supplies on the lake, and pack back needed provisions. 

At noon of August 22 Blake and outfit started for his shooting groundsat the eastern end of the sheep range, and shortly after my outfit wasunder way. My head man and the natives carried packs of some sixtypounds, while I carried about fifty pounds besides my rifle, glasses, and cartridges; even my dog Stereke had some thirty pounds of cannedgoods in a pack saddle. 

Our first march led up the mountain over a fairly steep trail, a galeaccompanied by rain meeting us as we came out from the timber on to thehigh mossy plateau. The wind swept down from the hills in great gusts, and our small tent tugged and pulled at its stakes until I greatlyfeared it would not stand the strain. It had moderated somewhat by thenext morning, and we made an early start. 

Our line of march, well above timber, led along the base of the summitsfor some miles, then swinging to the left we laboriously climbed overone range and dropped into the valley beyond. A strong wind made it hardgoing, and sometimes turned us completely around as it struck slantingupon the packs which we carried. During the day sheep were seen in thedistance, but we did not stop, for we were anxious to reach before darka place where Hunter--my head man--had usually made his hill camp. Itmust be remembered that at such an altitude there is very little fuel, and that good camping places are few and far between. 

The next morning we were up early, intending to take our first hunt, butthe small Killy River, on which we were now located, was much swollen bythe heavy rains, and could not be crossed. We devoted the forenoon tobridging this stream, but during the afternoon a small bunch of sheepwas sighted low down on the mountains, and I started with Hunter to seeif it contained any good rams. We left camp about noon and reached thesheep in a little over an hour. There was one ram which I shot formeat, but unfortunately his head was smaller than I thought, andvalueless as a trophy. 

As sheep hunting in these hills is at best hard work, I decided to movethe camp as high up as we could find wood and water. The next morning aswe started on our first real hunt, we took the native with us, and afterselecting a spot at the edge of the timber line, left him to bring upour camp to this place while my man and I continued over the mountainsin search of rams. The day was dull and the wind was fortunately light. 

After a stiff climb we came out upon a mossy tableland, intersected byseveral deep gulches, down which tumbled rapid glacial streams from manyperpetual snow banks. Above this high plateau rose sharp and barrenmountains which seemed but glacial heaps of jagged boulders and sliderock all covered with coarse black moss or lichen, which is the onlyfood of sheep during the winter months. 

It is generally supposed that when the heavy snows of winter set in thesheep seek a lower level, but my guide insisted that they work higherand higher up the mountain sides, where the winds have swept the snowaway, and they are able to get this coarse but nourishing food. 

The sky-line of these hills made a series of unbroken curves telling ofthe mighty power of the glaciers which once held this entire country intheir crushing grasp. 

We passed over the great plateau, which even at this latitude wassprinkled generously with beautiful small wild flowers. Crossing gulchafter gulch we continually worked higher and higher by a gradual andeasy ascent. 

We had been gone from camp but little over an hour, when, on approachinga small knoll, I caught sight of the white coat of a sheep just beyond. At once dropping upon my hands and knees I crawled up and carefullypeered over to the other side. We had unknowingly worked into the midstof a big band of ewes, lambs, and small rams. I counted twenty-seven onmy left and twenty-five on my right, but among them all there was not ahead worth shooting. 

This was the first great band of white sheep I had seen, and I watchedthem at this close range with much interest. Soon a tell-tale eddy inthe breeze gave them our scent, and they slowly moved away, nothurriedly nor in great alarm, but reminding me much of tame sheep, ordeer in a park. Man was rather an unfamiliar animal to them, and hisscent brought but little dread. From this time until darkness hid them, sheep were in plain view the entire day. In a short while I counted overone hundred ewes and lambs. 

We worked over one range and around another with the great valley of theriver lying at our feet, while beyond were chain upon chain of bleak andrugged mountains. Finally we came to a vast gulch supposed to be thehome of the large rams. My men had hunted in this section two yearsbefore, and had never failed to find good heads here, but we now sawnothing worth stalking. By degrees we worked to the top of the gulch, and coming to the summit of the ridge paused, for at our feet was whatat first appeared but a perpendicular precipice of jagged rock fallinghundreds of feet. The clouds now lifted a bit and we could see below avast circular valley with green grass and rapid glacial streams. On allsides it was hemmed in and guarded by mighty mountains with giant cliffsand vast slides of broken rocks reaching from the bottom to the verysummits. Opposite was a great dull blue glacier from which the northfork of the Killy River belched forth, while other smaller glaciers andsnow banks seemed kept in place only by granite barriers. 

We seated ourselves on the brink of this great cliff and the glasseswere at once in use. Soon Hunter saw rams, but they were so far belowthat even with my powerful binoculars it was impossible to tell morethan that they carried larger heads than other sheep near them. 

It was impossible to descend the cliff at the point where we then were, so we moved around, looking for a place where we might work down, andfinally found one where it was possible to descend some fifty yards to asort of shute. From where we were we could not see whether we should beable to make a still further descent, and if we did go down that far itwould be an extremely difficult climb to get back, but we thought itprobable that there would be slide rock at the other end of this shute, in which case the rest would be fairly easy. 

Moving with the greatest caution, we finally reached the shute, andafter a bit of bad climbing found the slide rock at the lower end as wehad expected; but it took us a good two hours to get low enough to tellwith the glasses how big were the horns the sheep carried. 

There were eight rams in all. A bunch of three small ones about half amile away, and just beyond them four with better heads, but still notgood enough to shoot, and apart from these, a short distance up themountain side, was a solitary ram which carried a really good head. Thebunch of three was unfortunately between us and the big sheep, and itrequired careful stalking to get within distance of the one wesought. We knew very well that if we suddenly alarmed the three, andthey rushed off, they, in turn, would alarm the four and also the bigram. When we were still at some distance we showed ourselves to thethree, and they took the hint and wandered slowly up the mountainside. The others, although they had not seen us, became suspicious, sowe remained crouched behind some rocks until they once more began tofeed. The big ram now came down from his solitary position and passedfrom view behind a mass of boulders near the remaining sheep. 

The head of the ram which I had shot the day before was much smallerthan I had supposed at the time. In order to avoid this in future I hadasked Hunter to advise me in selecting only really good heads. My man, who now had the glasses, declared that the big sheep had not joined thebunch of four, and I must confess that I was also deceived. 

Although the four had become suspicious from seeing the three go slowlyup the cliff, still they had not made us out, and the wind remainedfavorable. Lying close only long enough for them to get over theiruneasiness, we cautiously stalked up to within some two hundredyards. Again we used the glasses most carefully, but could not see thebig ram. Suddenly the sheep became alarmed and started up themountain. I expected each second to see the large ram come out frombehind the boulders, and therefore withheld from shooting. But when hedid not appear I turned my attention to the four which had paused andwere looking down upon us from a rocky ridge nearly four hundred yardsabove. As they stood in bold relief against the black crags, I saw thatone carried horns much larger than the others, and that it was the bigram. My only chance was to take this long shot. We had been crossing asnow bank at the time, and I settled myself, dug my heels well in, andwith elbows resting on my knees took a steady aim. I was fortunate injudging the correct distance, for at the report of the rifle the big ramdropped, gave a few spasmodic kicks, and the next minute came rollingdown the mountain side, tumbling over and over, and bringing with him agreat shower of broken rocks. I feared that his head and horns would beruined, but fortunately found them not only uninjured, but a mostbeautiful trophy. The horns taped a good 34 inches along the curve and13-1/2 inches around the butts. 

That night the weather changed, and thenceforth the mountains wereconstantly enveloped in mist, while it rained almost daily. These weremost difficult conditions under which to hunt, for sheep have wonderfulvision and can see a hunter through the mist long before they can beseen. 

I was anxious to bring out as trophies only the finest heads, and dailyrefused chances which some might have gladly taken. If we could notplainly see with the naked eye horns at 300 to 400 yards, we always letthe sheep pass, knowing that the head was small, but if at any time wecould make out that a sheep carried a full turn to his horns, we knewthat the head was well matured. If we saw a sheep facing us we couldalways tell when the horns made a full turn, for then the tips curvedoutward. 

A week after killing the big ram we again visited the great basin, butfound nothing, and cautiously moved a little higher to a shelteredposition. From here we carefully scanned the bottom of this large gulch, and soon spied a bunch of ewes and lambs, and shortly afterward threemedium sized rams. When we first saw them one had become suspicious andwas looking intently in our direction, so we crouched low against therocks, keeping perfectly still until they once more began to feed. Whenthey had gradually worked over a slight knoll we made a quick approach, cautiously stalking up to the ridge over which the sheep had gone. I hadexpected to get a fair shot at two hundred yards or under, but when Ipeered over nothing was in sight. I concluded they had not gone up themountain side, for their white coats against the black rocks would haverendered them easily seen. I, therefore, started to walk boldly in thedirection in which we had seen them go, thinking they had probably takenshelter from the gale behind some rocks. 

I had only gone some paces when we located them standing on a snow patchwhich had made them indistinguishable. I sat down and tried to shootfrom my knees, but the wind was coming in such fierce gusts that I couldnot hold my rifle steady, so I ran as hard as I could in theirdirection, looking hastily about for some rock which would offershelter. 

The sheep made up the mountain side for some three hundred yards, whenthey paused to look back. I had by this time found a sheltered positionbehind a large boulder, and soon had one of the rams wounded, but, although I fired several shots I seemed unable to knock him off hisfeet. Fearing that I might lose him after all, I aimed for the secondram, which was now on the move some distance further up the mountain, and at my second shot he stopped. Climbing up to within one hundred andfifty yards I found that both the sheep were badly wounded, and wereunable to go further, so I finished them off. What was my surprise tofind that the larger ram had seven bullets in him, while the smaller onehad three. 

These sheep would almost never flinch to the shot, and it was difficultto tell when you had hit, unless in an immediately vital spot. 

The weather continued unfavorable for hill shooting until the third ofSeptember, but that day opened bright and clear, and fearing lest thegood conditions might not last, we made an early start. Crossing thehigh plateau we followed the valley of the Killy River, keeping well upand skirting the bases of the mountain summits. As we trudged along, theshrill cries of alarm of the whistling marmots were heard, and thelittle fellows could be seen in all directions scampering for theirholes. Ptarmigan were also frequently met with, but not in such greatnumbers as one would have supposed in a region where they had never beenhunted. On several occasions we found these birds on the highest summitswhere there was nothing but rocks covered with black moss. It would havebeen interesting to have shot one of them and learned upon what theywere then feeding, but it was just in the locality where we hoped tofind rams, and this was out of the question. That morning we traveledsome distance before we saw sheep, but having once reached their feedingground I had the satisfaction of watching more wild game than on anyprevious day. 

The Kussiloff hills were dotted with scattered bands, and I counted inone large flock forty-eight, while the long and narrow valley on bothsides of the stream was sprinkled with smaller bunches containing fromtwo or three to twenty. It was a beautiful sight, for every ewe had atleast one, and many of them two, lambs frolicking at her side. 

In addition to these sheep we saw three moose feeding in a small greenvalley at the base of the opposite hills. The river was impassable forsome miles, and although they were hardly more than a mile away in astraight line, they were quite unapproachable, so we sat and watchedthem with much interest until they slowly fed into the timber. 

Shortly after noon we located some large sheep on a rocky knoll acrossthe Killy River just below where the stream gushes out from a mightyglacier. They were a long way off, but with the glasses we could seethat one lying apart from the others was a ram, and we surmised that ifwe could see his horns at such a distance even through the glasses heprobably carried a good head. 

Working down to the stream we finally found a point shallow enough towade. We now made a cautious and careful stalk to the place where we hadlast located the sheep, but a bunch of ewes and a small ram were allthat we could see. 

Hunter and I were both much disgusted, for we had expected surely tofind a head that was up to our standard. 

It was well on in the afternoon when we started back to camp. We hadbeen going steadily over the broken hillsides since early morning, andhad met sheep at almost every turn. At the sight of us some would boundup the steep mountain sides in great alarm, while several times at onlya couple of hundred yards others merely turned their heads in ourdirection, and after observing us for a short time continued tograze. Somehow these ewes seemed to understand that I had no intentionof molesting them. 

It is strange how the hope of seeing game keeps one from feeling tired, but as we trudged homeward, a bit depressed that in all the great numberof sheep seen, there had not been one good head, and that our hard daywas all to no purpose, my man and I both began to feel pretty wellfagged out. 

Late in the afternoon we paused for a brief rest and a smoke, and hereHunter sighted two lone rams in a gulch at the top of the mountain aboveus. By this time we were both pretty well used up, but the glassesshowed that they carried good heads, and I determined to stalk them, even if it meant passing the night on the hills. So we worked our way upto the top of a ridge which commanded a view of the gulch in which thesheep were grazing, but they had fed some distance away by the time wereached the place where I had expected to shoot, and were at too long arange to make my aim certain. If we had had plenty of time, we shouldhave worked up the ridge nearer, and this Hunter was still anxious forme to do, but when I saw one of the sheep suddenly raise his head andlook intently in our direction I knew my only chance was to take thelong shot. T had seen what the . 30-40 Winchester rifle would do in thehills, and the question was one of holding. However, I could count onseveral shots before they ran out of sight, and even at such a distanceI hoped to get one and possibly the pair. Both sheep carried good heads, but I aimed at the one which stood broadside to me. Hunter, who had theglasses, told me afterward that the ram with the more massive horns gotaway, but I succeeded in wounding the other so that he was unable tomove. Knowing he would shortly die, and that I could find him the nextmorning, we at once started at our best pace for camp. 

We only reached our tent at nine o'clock that night, both completelyfagged out. A cup of tea made us feel better, but it was late before Icould get to sleep. Such days are a bit too much for steady practice, but if they end in success the trophy means all the more. 

The following day we were literally wind-bound, and not until the dayafter could we set out for the wounded sheep, which we eventually found, not fifty yards from where we had last seen him. It was a long and hardclimb to reach him, but he carried a very pretty head with massive hornsof over a full turn. I found that two shots of the seven which I hadfired had taken effect. 

Two days later the native arrived from the main camp with moreprovisions, and brought an interesting letter from Blake. It seemed thatsome Englishmen who had been hunting in these hills just before us haddriven the big rams to the other end of the range, where my friend hadbeen most fortunate in finding them. He strongly advised my leaving mypresent camp and coming to the country which he had just left, havinggot six excellent heads. This was the limit which we had decided upon asthe number of sheep that we each wanted. 

It was now apparently clear that I had been hunting at a greatdisadvantage in my district. On receiving Blake's letter I at oncedetermined to retrace my steps to the main camp, go to the head of thelake and follow up the trail which he had laid out upon the mountains. 

Therefore the next morning (September 7) we shouldered our packs andwent over the hills to our main camp. Instead of following the trail bywhich we had come, we decided to push straight across country, hoping inthis way to reach our main camp in one march. Our change of route wasunfortunate, and this day I can easily put down as the hardest one Iever passed in the mountains. 

In order to bring out all our belongings in one trip we had extra heavypacks, and the country over which we marched was very trying. About noonI spied sheep on one of the outlying hills, and as we came nearer I madeout through the glasses that this was a bunch of five rams, and thatthree of them carried exceptionally good heads. My only chance was topush ahead of my men, and this I did, but stalking sheep over a roughcountry with a heavy pack on your back is very trying work, and I failedto connect with these rams. 

About five o'clock in the afternoon we came down over the mountains onto the high plateau above our main camp. We were all too used up to goany further, or even put up our light tent, although it soon began torain. We made a rude camp in a patch of stunted hemlocks, and as I satbefore the fire having my tea, I chanced to look up on the hills beforeme, and there was the bunch of five rams I had tried so hard to stalkearly in the afternoon. They were at no great distance, but it wasrapidly growing dark, and there was not time to get within range whileit would be light enough to shoot. So I sat and studied these sheepthrough the glasses, determined to find them later, even if it took me amonth. 

One of them had a most beautiful head, with long and massive horns wellover the full turn. Another had a head which would have been equallygood if the left horn had not been slightly broken at the tip. The thirdalso had an excellent head, and although not up to the other two, hishorns made the full turn. The remaining two rams were smaller. I watchedthem until darkness came on, and all this while they fed slowly backtoward the mountains on which my friend had been hunting the weekbefore. I am convinced that this bunch of sheep had been driven out ofthese hills by Blake, and had been turned back again by me. 

It rained hard that night, and the next morning the clouds were so lowthat it was impossible to go in search of the rams I had seen theevening before. I, therefore, determined to push immediately to themain camp, which we reached three hours later. We at once lunched, and, putting our light outfit in one of the boats, rowed up to the head ofthe lake. 

This range of hills is surrounded by a mighty glacier, and at the footof the glacier is a moraine some ten miles long extending down to KenaiLake. On one side of this moraine you can walk by skirting the shoreand using care, but on the other side the quicksands are deep anddangerous. We camped for the night in a place which my friend had usedas his base of supplies. 

The next morning opened dull, and I felt the effects of my hard work anddid not greatly relish the idea of shouldering a fifty-pound pack. Butmy time was now getting short. In two weeks the rutting season of themoose would begin, and in the meantime I wanted four more fine specimensof the white sheep. Any day we might expect a heavy fall of snow, forthe northern winter had already begun in the hills. 

We soon found the tracks of Blake's party, which led up the moraine, andcarried us over quicksand and through glacial streams, icy cold. Finally we came to where Blake had started up the mountain side, andwith all due regard to my friend, his trail was not an easy one. Aboutnoon it began to rain, but we pushed upward, although soon soaked to theskin, and came out above timber just at dark. We were all fagged out andshaking with cold by the time we reached Blake's old camp. 

The next morning broke dismally with the floodgates of the heavens openand the rain coming down in torrents. I lay among my rugs and smoked onepipe after another in order to keep down my appetite, for there waslittle chance of making a fire to cook with. In fact, most of the daywas passed in this way, for all the wood had become thoroughlywater-soaked. 

Late in the afternoon we succeeded in getting a fire started and had asquare meal. While we were crouched around the blaze the natives sawsheep on the hills just above us, but it was raining so hard that it wasimpossible to tell if they were rams. In fact, when sheeps' coats aresaturated with water they do not show up plainly when seen at anydistance, and might easily be mistaken for wet rocks. 

The next day opened just as dismally, with the storm raging harder thanever, but by eleven o'clock it began to let up, and we soon had ourthings drying in the wind, for the clouds looked threatening, and wefeared the rain would begin again at any time. 

As we were short of provisions and depended almost entirely upon meat, my head man and I started at once for the hills. The little stream byour camp was swollen into a rushing torrent, and we were obliged to goalmost to its source--a miniature glacier--before we could wade it. Climbing to the crest of the mountains on which we had seen the sheepthe evening before, and following just under the sky line, we soon saw alarge and two small rams feeding on a sheltered ledge before us. 

We much feared that they would get: our scent, but by circling wellaround we succeeded in making a fair approach. I should have had anexcellent shot at the big ram had not one of the smaller ones given thealarm. The gale was coming in such gusts that it was difficult to take asteady aim, and at my first shot the bullet was carried to one side. Ifired again just as the sheep were passing from view, and succeeded inbreaking the leg of the big ram. Hunter and I now raced after him, butthe hillside was so broken that it was impossible to locate him, so myman went to the valley below where he could get a good view and signalto me. 

It is always well in hill shooting to have an understood code of signalsbetween your man and yourself. The one which I used and found mostsatisfactory provided that if my man walked to the right or left itmeant that the game was in either of these directions; if he walked awayfrom the mountain, it was lower down; if he approached the mountain, itwas higher up. 

As Hunter, after reaching the valley and taking a look with the glasses, began to walk away, I knew that the sheep was below me, and I suddenlycame close upon the three, which had taken shelter from the gale behinda large rock. Very frequently sheep will remain behind with a woundedcompanion; especially is this so when it is a large ram. Now, unfortunately, one of the smaller rams got between me and the big one, and as I did not want to kill the little fellow the big ram was soon outof range. But he was too badly wounded to go far over such grounds, andI soon stalked up near, when I fired, breaking another leg, and then ranup and finished him off. This ram carried a very pretty head 13-1/2inches around the butts and 36-1/4 inches along the curve, butunfortunately the left horn was slightly broken at the tip. It wasundoubtedly an old sheep, as his teeth, worn to the gums, and the tenrings around his horns indicated. 

When a ram's constitution has been undermined by the rutting season, thehorns cease to grow, nor do they begin again until the spring of theyear with its green vegetation brings nourishing food, and this is thecause of the rings, which, therefore, indicate the number of winters olda sheep is. This was my head man's theory, and is, I believe, a correctone, for in the smaller heads which I have examined these ringscoincided with the age of the sheep as told by the teeth. Up to fiveyears, the age of a sheep can always be determined by the incisor teeth;a yearling has but two permanent incisors, a two-year-old four, athree-year-old six, and a four-year-old or over eight teeth, or a fullset. 

[Illustration: HEADS OF DALL'S SHEEP(The horns above are of the Stone's sheep)]

It was unpleasantly cold upon the mountains this day, and as no othersheep could be seen, we returned to camp by five o'clock. This was theeasiest day's shooting that I had had. 

As we sat by the camp-fire that evening, four sheep were seen on thehills above us, two of which I recognized as the small rams that hadbeen with the one I had just killed. We felt quite certain that thesewere the bunch of five rams which we had seen when we were packing outfrom our first hill camp. In fact, this was the only good band of ramswhich I saw during the entire hunt. If these were the same sheep, thetwo newcomers carried good heads, for, as previously stated, I hadstudied this lot carefully through the glasses. 

The next day, the thirteenth and Friday, opened dismally enough, but bythe time we had finished breakfast the mountains Were clear of cloudsand there was no wind to mar one's shooting. Such conditions were to betaken advantage of, and Hunter and I were soon working up the ridge wellto leeward of the place where we had seen the sheep the nightbefore. Reaching the crest we scanned the grounds on all sides, and alsothe rugged mountain tops about us. 

The white coats of these sheep against the dark background of blackmoss-covered rocks render them easily seen, but we now failed to sightany even on the distant hills. Therefore we pushed ahead, goingstealthily up wind and keeping a careful watch on all sides. We crossedover the ridge and worked our way just below the sky-line on the otherside of the mountain from our camp, never supposing that the sheep wouldwork back, for they had seen our camp-fire on the night before. Wetraveled nearly to the end of the ridge, and were just about to crossand work down to a sheltered place where we expected to find our game, when Hunter chanced to look back, and instantly motioned me to drop outof sight. 

While we had been working around one side of the summit the sheep hadbeen working back on the other side, and we had passed them with themountain ridge between. Fortunately they were all feeding with theirheads away or they must have seen us as we came out on the sky-line. Myman had the glasses and assured me that there were two excellentheads. We now felt quite certain that these were the sheep we knew sowell. 

We cautiously dropped out of sight and worked back, keeping the mountainridge between us. We were well above and had a favorable wind and theentire day before us. It was the first and only time upon these hillsthat the conditions had all been favorable for a fair stalk and goodshooting. Hunter did his part well, and brought me up to within onehundred and twenty-five yards of the rams, which were almost directlybelow us. They had stopped feeding and were lying down. Only one of thesmaller sheep was visible, and my man advised me to take a shot at him, and then take the two large ones as they showed themselves. Aiming low, I fired, and then as one of the big rams jumped up I fired again, killing him instantly. The smaller one that I had first shot at went tothe left, while the one remaining large ram and the second smaller onewent to the right. The latter were instantly hidden from view, for themountain side was very rough and broken and covered with large sliderock. I raced in the same direction, knowing well that they would workup hill. But hurrying over such ground is rather dangerous work. 

Soon the two sheep came into view, offering a pretty quartering shot ata little under a hundred yards. The old ram fell to my first bullet, andI allowed the smaller one to go and grow up, and I hope offer good sportto some persevering sportsman five years hence. 

While Hunter climbed down and skinned out the heads I turned in pursuitof the one which I had first fired at, for we both thought he had beenhit, having seen hair fly. I soon located him in the distance, but heshowed no signs of a bad wound, and as his head was small I was trulyglad that my shot had only grazed him. Both the rams which I killedcarried excellent heads with unbroken points, and we were safely back incamp with the trophies shortly after two o'clock that afternoon--an easyand a pleasant day. 

The larger ram measured 13-1/4 inches around the base of the horns, and37-7/8 inches along the outer curves. These were the longest horns ofthe _Ovis dalli_ that I killed. The other ram measured 13 inchesaround the horns and 34-1/2 inches along the outer curve. 

[Illustration: MY BEST HEAD]

While we were having tea that afternoon, we chanced to look up on thehills, and there, near the crest of the ridge, was one of the small ramsfrom the bunch we had stalked that morning. He offered a very easychance had I wanted his head. It is worthy of note that these sheepseem to have no fear of the smell of blood or dead comrades, and onseveral occasions I have observed them near the carcass of some ramwhich I had shot. 

The next day opened perceptibly cooler, and the angry clouds overheadtold us to beware of a coming storm. As I now had seven heads, five ofwhich were very handsome trophies, I concluded to take Hunter's adviceand leave the high hills. 

Our sheep shooting for the year was now practically over. Had theweather been fine it would have been an ideal trip; but with theexception of the third and thirteenth of September every day passed uponthe mountains was not only disagreeable, but with conditions sounfavorable that it had been almost impossible to stalk our gameproperly, for when I had been once wet to the skin the cold wind fromthe glaciers soon chilled me to such a degree that I was unable toremain quietly in one place and allow the game to get in a favorableposition for a stalk. I had been obliged to keep constantly going, andthis frequently meant shooting at long range. With the exception of therams shot on the eleventh and thirteenth of September, I had killednothing under three hundred yards. Therefore much of the sport inmaking a careful and proper stalk had been lost. 

My success with the white sheep had come only with the hardest kind ofwork, but I now had five really fine heads--which I later increased tosix, my limit. I was quite satisfied with the measurements of thesehorns along the curve, but had hoped to have shot at least one whichwould tape over 14 inches around the butts, although this would beextreme, for the horns of the white sheep do not grow so large as thecommon Rocky Mountain variety. They are also much lighter in color. Ibelieve that large and perfect heads will be most difficult to find afew years hence in this section, and the sportsman who has ambitions inthis direction would do well not to delay his trip too long; for thisrange of hills is not over large, and unless these sheep have someprotection, it is only a question of time before they will be almostentirely killed off. 

V. 

HUNTING THE GIANT MOOSE

On September 17 we packed up and moved down the lake several miles, where we made another base of supplies, for we were now going upon themoose range. 

The rutting season of the moose begins on the Kenai Peninsula about the15th of September, and lasts, roughly speaking, for one month. At thistime the bulls come from the remote places where they have passed thesummer and seek the cows, and the country which they now roam isgenerally the high tablelands which lie at the base of the mountainsjust below the timber line. We had timed our hunt to be in the mooserange during this season, for then the bulls are bold, and not sodifficult to find. 

Bull moose differ from the rest of the deer family in not gettingtogether a big band of cows, but pair off. The female remains with thebull only a short time, and then slips away, and then the bulls roam theforest in search of other partners. They are now very fearless, and ifthey come upon a female accompanied by another bull, fight gallantly toget possession of her. Their sense of smell is rather dulled at thistime, for I have often seen their tracks following the trail which mynative was constantly traveling. 

The calves are born in May or June, and are weaned during the ruttingseason, for the bulls are very apt to drive them away from theirmothers. 

The antlers are hardly out of the velvet before the rutting seasonbegins. They are then a light yellowish color, but are later staineddark brown by constant rubbing and scraping against bushes and treetrunks. 

The moose of Alaska undoubtedly carry heads far grander than those foundin the East. In fact, the antlers of the Kenai Peninsula moose equal, ifthey do not exceed in size, those from any other part of the world, andit was my ambition to kill by still-hunting a good example of one ofthese. 

Calling moose I have never looked upon as true sport, unless the hunterdoes his own calling, and I am glad to see that many feel in the sameway about this mode of hunting. 

After we had made our base of supplies on the shore of the lake, weshouldered our packs and climbed up through the forest for severalhours, until we came to the shore of a small lake, where we madecamp. The scrubby woods were very thick, and extended up the sides ofthe mountains for some distance; then came a broad belt of thick alders, and beyond that the high open tablelands, which rolled back to the baseof the sheep hills. In all directions deep game trails, traveled by themoose for many years, wound through the forest. 

In the afternoon my man and I took our first hunt. Fresh tracks wereseen in the much-used runways, which were often worn two feet deep byconstant travel. Late in the afternoon I saw five sheep feeding on somelow hills at no great distance, and as there were no lambs among thelot, we supposed that this was a band of rams, but we had not time toreach them before dark. 

We were just about to return to camp when Hunter saw glistening in thesun among the thick alders, just above the timber line, the massiveantlers of a moose. There was no time to be lost if we meant to come upwith him, and so my man and I raced the entire way through the woods, and then up the steep ascent, but failed to reach him. 

When I started on this hunt I had a thorough understanding with Hunterand my native that no one was to carry a rifle but myself, for I wasdetermined not to allow my natives to molest the game. Indians do notlike to wander through the forests without a gun, and my native hadlately borrowed a rifle from one of Blake's men, but I insisted upon hisleaving it at our base of supplies. 

That afternoon, as Hunter and I started from camp, we sent the nativeback to the lake to bring us more provisions. He told us that he had nosooner reached the shore than he had heard a splash in the water nearhim, and looking up had seen a large moose swimming across to a neck ofland at no great distance. He described this moose as at times beingcompletely submerged by the weight of his antlers, and said that he hadapparently great difficulty in swimming. 

This temptation was too great for Lawroshka, and, as his rifle was athand, he pushed off in the boat, and coming up close to the moose, shothim just as he was leaving the water. He offered to give me the head, and seemed greatly surprised when I refused it, and told him I did notwish to bring out any trophies which I had not shot myself. I was sorryto learn that some men who have hunted in this region did not hesitateto class among their trophies the heads which had been shot by theirmen. 

I went to sleep that night with the expectation of a fair day and goodsport on the morrow, but woke next morning to find it raininghard. Since reaching our hunting grounds on the 22d of August, we hadhad only five pleasant days, and three of these were used up in marchingfrom one camp to another. It was now raining so hard that I determinednot to hunt, and turned in among my blankets with my pipe, but after atime this failed to satisfy me, and by 11 o'clock Hunter and I decidedthat even a thorough wetting was preferable to doing nothing. 

The five sheep which we had seen the evening before were still in viewfrom our camp. One bunch of three lay in a commanding position on anopen hillside, and were unapproachable, but the other two had left themain mountain range and were feeding on one of the outlying foothills. These offered an excellent chance, and Hunter and I started in theirdirection. 

Nothing so thoroughly wets one as passing through thick underbrush whichis ladened with raindrops, and we were both soon drenched, but we werenow quite used to this discomfort, and had expected it. 

After coming out above timber, we reached the belt of alders throughwhich we were working upward, when one of the sheep appeared upon therugged sky-line some half mile above us. The glasses showed that he wasa young ram with a head not worth shooting, but as his mate followed, wecould see at a glance that his horns made the full turn, and were wellup to the standard that I had set. 

The smaller one soon wandered down the hill to our left, but the oldfellow was more wary, and kept to the rocky summit. We gradually workednearer and nearer as his head was turned, or as he slowly fed behindsome rocks. In this way we had almost reached a dip in the hillsidewhich would hide us from view until I could approach near enough for ashot, when the ram suddenly appeared on the sky-line above. We bothcrouched to the ground and kept perfectly still, while he stood in boldrelief against the clouds intently gazing in all directions. For almosta half hour he never moved, except to slowly turn his head. It wasevident that he was restless, and missed his young companion which hadwandered away. Then he gradually moved off and sank behind a rock, andas Hunter and I had seen his hindquarters disappear last, we knew he waslying down, for a sheep goes down on his front knees first. This wasour chance, and we hastened to take advantage of it. In fact, Hunter hadcrossed the last open and I was half way over, when the ram suddenlyappeared again on the crest of the hill, and by his side was his youngcompanion. Again I dropped to the ground, while the sheep gazed down atme. I was almost tempted to take the shot, for the distance was now notover 400 yards, and I had killed several sheep at this range. But hopingthat they had not made me out, I kept perfectly still. I could seeHunter crouching behind a bush a short distance ahead, and soon hebeckoned. I now looked up only to find that the sheep had vanished. 

As I was wearing a dark green shooting suit, I do not think they quitemade me out, but their suspicions were aroused, and they headed for themain range of mountains. In order to reach this they would be obliged tocross nearly half a mile of open tableland. We hastened after them, andsoon saw the rams, as we had expected, heading for the other hills. Weyet hoped to stalk them when they had reached the level, for they hadnot been greatly alarmed, and were going leisurely along, now and againstopping to munch some of their favorite black moss from the rocks. Onreaching the last hill they seemed to change their minds, for aftergazing in all directions they lay down in an absolutely unapproachableposition. 

Hunter and I were caught on a bald hillside exposed to a biting northwind, with no chance of a nearer approach without being seen. Finally, as a last resort, we determined upon a drive. 

While I lay perfectly still, Hunter advanced boldly across the open in abig circle, getting between the hill and the main range. When the rams'attention was fixed on him, I cautiously worked back and around, takingup a position which commanded the ridge over which the sheep had justgone. When Hunter had got between them and the other mountains, he beganto approach. The rams now sprang to their feet, and evidently fullyrealized their dangerous position. They came, as we had expected, tothe other end of the range from where I had taken my stand, but seemedreluctant to go back further on the isolated foothills. 

It was too far for an accurate shot, and I waited, hoping for a betterchance. As Hunter now worked up over the summit, the sheep broke backbelow him, and in another second would have had a clear field across theflat to the main range. Running up as quickly as the nature of theground would permit, I lessened the distance some fifty yards, and, justas they were about to disappear from view, I fired twice, carefullyaiming at the larger sheep, which I knew to be the big ram. 

There was a strong wind blowing, and accurate shooting at such a longdistance was out of the question, so I must regard it as anexceptionally lucky shot which broke his leg. 

Hunter now signaled me to continue around the hill, and I soon came uponthe old fellow lying down. I seated myself well within range, intendingto catch my breath before shooting, when he suddenly sprang to his feetand bounded down the hill. I fired and missed, and started in pursuit. Although a sheep with a broken leg finds it hard to go up hill overrough ground, it is surprising how fast they can go down hill or acrossthe open. 

When this ram came to the base of the mountain he started in a straightline across the tableland, and led me a long chase before I ran him downand shot him. He carried quite a pretty head, measuring 13-1/2 inchesaround the butts and 32 inches along the curve. 

I had now reached the limit I had set on sheep, and although I saw somelater, I did not go after them. 

It stormed hard all that night, and we woke the next morning to anotherwet and dismal day. I, therefore, determined to remain in camp, and wasmending my much-worn knickerbockers by the fire when a moose was sightedon the mountain above timber, making for the thick belt of alders. Hewas soon hidden from view, and as we could not see that he passedthrough any of the open patches lower down, we hoped that he had chosenthis secure retreat to lay up in. 

The rain was coming down in torrents, but the bull carried a large andmassive pair of antlers, and as I did not want to allow a chance to goby, Hunter and I were soon in pursuit. We circled well around in orderto get the wind, and then forced our way through the heavy underbrushfor some hours until we finally came to the belt of alders where we hadlast seen him. I now climbed a tree at the edge of the timber, hopingthat from a lofty position I should be able to locate him, but met withno success. 

It was now my intention to take a stand upon the hillside above timber, hoping that the moose would show himself toward evening, but in our wetclothes we were soon too chilled to remain inactive. As a last resort, Hunter forced his way back into the alders, while I kept in the openabove. After going some distance my man turned to the right for thepurpose of driving him out in my direction, but our hard anddisagreeable hunt was to no purpose, and we returned to camp just beforedark, having passed a wetter and more uncomfortable day than any yet. 

Both Hunter and I thought this was the same bull which we had twice seenbefore, as he carried rather an unusual head, and had come from the samedirection and to the same place. 

The next day it rained even harder, and the clouds were so low that wecould not see the mountain side, and therefore had no temptation toleave camp. My patience was by this time nearly exhausted, for thecontinual rain was very depressing, and detracted much from the pleasureof being in such a grand game country. 

About noon I was sitting before the fire when Lawroshka went to thelake, only some ten steps away, for a pail of water. Here he saw a bullmoose standing on the other side. He beckoned to me, and I seized myrifle and cautiously approached the native. The moose offered an easyshot at 250 yards, and my first bullet rolled him over. His head wasdisappointing, but it is often difficult to tell the size of a moose'santlers when they are half hidden in the trees. 

We woke next morning to the usual dismal surroundings, and remained incamp all that day. Late that afternoon the fog lifted and we saw thesame large moose in his accustomed place among the alders, but it wastoo late in the day to try for him. 

That night the wind veered to the west, and just as I was about to turnin, the rain stopped and a few stars shone faintly in the heavens. Theweather had been so constantly bad that even these signs failed to cheerme, and I had decided that we would break camp the next day no matterwhat the conditions might be. But the morning (September 22) openedbright and clear, with the first good frost in two weeks. We were mostanxious for a cold snap, for the leaves were still thick upon the trees, which made it next to impossible to sec game in the woods at anydistance. 

After breakfast we shouldered our packs and were soon on the march, expecting to reach our permanent quarters in the moose range beforenoon, and have the afternoon to hunt. Bright days had been so rare withus that we meant to make the most of this one. 

The heavy rains had flooded the woods, and the deep worn game trailsthat we followed were half full of water, while the open meadows andtundra that we occasionally crossed were but little better thanminiature lakes. We had made about half of our march and my pack hadjust begun to grow doubly heavy from constant floundering around in themire, when we came out into a long and narrow meadow. There were a fewdwarf spruce at our end, but the rest of the small opening was free ofunderbrush. 

Hunter was leading and I was close behind with Stereke at heel, whilethe native was a few steps further back. I had noticed my dog a shorttime before sniffing the air, and was therefore keeping a constant watchon all sides, hoping that we might come upon game, but little expectingit, when suddenly I caught sight of a large bull moose standing in themiddle of the opening. He was about 300 yards away, and almost directlydown wind. I do not see how he could have failed to get our scent, andhe must have been indifferent to us rather than alarmed. 

My first thought was of Stereke. I knew that he would break at the sightof game, and realized for the hundredth time my mistake in bringing abear dog into the moose range. Quickly giving him to the native to hold, I dropped my pack and was instantly working my way toward the moose. Ihad got to within rather less than 200 yards when I saw the moose turnhis head and look in my direction. A nearer approach was impossible, soI gave him at once two shots, and at the second he fell. 

My dog, having bitten himself free from the native, made for the moose, and savagely attacked his haunches. Seeing that the bull was trying toregain his feet, I gave him another shot, and running up drove off thedog. 

Now, for the first time, I had a good chance to see my trophy. I knewthat it was a good head, but hardly expected such large and massiveantlers. They were malformed and turned in, or the spread would havebeen considerably larger, but even then they went over sixty inches, with forty-four well defined points. I am quite sure that this was thesame bull that we had seen so often among the alders, and which I hadtwice before unsuccessfully stalked. 

Our march was delayed until we skinned out the head, cleaned the scalp, and hung the meat in some near-by trees for future use. It was thereforelate that afternoon when we reached our new camp. We now settledourselves comfortably, for we meant to stay in these quarters for theremainder of the hunt. 

The next week my friend Blake joined me, and we scoured the countryaround this camp most diligently, but with no further success. Daily wecame upon cows and small bulls, but it seemed as if all the large maleshad left the neighborhood. Stamp holes and unmistakable signs of therutting season were found everywhere, but with the most careful huntingI was unable to get another shot. 

There were a few bull moose in the dense woods, but not a sufficientnumber to warrant the hope of my getting another head such as I hadalready shot. At this time of the year moose are such restless animals, and are so constantly on the move that it is not difficult todistinguish their presence. 

I had now hunted this entire range most thoroughly, and was reluctantlyforced to the conclusion that there were not sufficient signs to warrantmy remaining another month. I talked the matter over with my friend, andtold him that if he cared to wait until the next monthly steamer wecould combine our forces and start into a new country which we knew wasgood; but Blake did not want to delay his departure so long, and as henow decided to return to the coast, I made up my mind to go out withhim, take the steamer to Seattle, and thence go to British Columbia, where I would finish my long hunt by a trip after Rocky Mountain sheep. 

Shortly after this we broke camp and started back to Cook Inlet, whichwe reached October 2. A few days later the steamer arrived, and thatsame night I was on my way from Alaska. 

Unfortunately, my hunting for the year was over, for on my arrival atSeattle I found that I had been too much pulled down by the hard workupon the hills to make it wise for me to go into British Columbia. [7]

[Transcriber's Note: Footnote numbered in the text, but no associatedtext. ]

_Jas. H. Kidder_. 

The Kadiak Bear and his Home

In 1901 the opportunity came to me to make a trip to the island whichthe Kadiak bear inhabits, and to become slightly acquainted with thislargest of all carnivora. My companion was A. W. Merriam, of Milton, Mass. 

We were under great obligations to Dr. C. Hart Merriam, of theBiological Survey, Washington, who, before we left home, gave usvaluable information about the large game of Alaska. He told us ofinvestigations which might prove of scientific value, and helped us toplace our trip on a much broader base than a mere shooting expedition. One of the pleasantest features of such a trip was to see how freelyinformation came in from all sides from those who could help in roundingout our work. 

In order to find the Alaskan bears in their best pelage one must be onthe ground in April, and this made it necessary for us to sail fromSeattle April 1, on the Pacific Steam Whaling Company's boat, Excelsior. Seattle proved a very good outfitting place, and beforesailing we had safely stowed away below, in waterproof canvas bags, theprovisions necessary to last us three months, in the most condensed andevaporated form. 

Most of our fellow passengers were miners. One of them interested meparticularly. He was a Finn, one of the pioneer white hunters in theAleutian country, and his drawn face and stooping shoulders told thetale of trails too long and packs too heavy. I passed much time withhim, and learned a good deal about the habits of the big, brown, barrenbear, and his methods of fighting when hard pressed. 

Our first Alaskan port was Hunter's Bay, Prince of Wales Island, interesting because here is Clincon, one of the old settlements of theHaida Indians, famed for their wonderful totem poles, which tell instriking symbolic language the family histories of the tribe. There weremany good faces among these people, and we asked ourselves and othersthe puzzling question, are they Aztecs, New Zealanders, or Japanese inorigin? Among these people families with the same totem pole may notintermarry. An old man, the special wood carver of the tribe, doeswonderful work. 

An offshoot of the tribe inhabits Annette Island, under the kindlygovernorship of an old priest named Duncan. At first he founded hiscolony on the mainland, in British territory, but was there so hamperedby religious rules that, with almost all his followers, he moved toAnnette, where he is still beloved by the natives, to whom he has taughtright living and many valuable arts of civilization. 

We kept the inland route until Icy Straits took us away from GlacierBay, and out into the open ocean. Early the next morning Yakutat cameinto view, and our boat was quickly surrounded by canoes filled withIndians, their wives, and woven baskets. These natives, supposed tobelong to the Tlinkits, were distinctly less advanced than the HaidaIndians. 

In Yakutat we thought we were lucky in buying three Siwash bear dogs, but were not long in discovering our mistake. One of the dogs was sofierce we had to shoot him. Another was wild and ran away at the firstopportunity, and the "last of the Siwash, " though found wanting in everyhunting instinct, had a kindly disposition and staid with us. We couldnot bring ourselves to the shooting point. Finally we found a Creole, who kept a store in a remote village on Kadiak Island, willing to takehim off our hands. 

The sight of the massive snow face of Mt. St. Elias, rising 18, 002 feetabove the immense stretches of the Malaspina glacier, called to mind thesuccessful Abruzzi expedition, which reached the top of this mountain afew years ago. Looking at the rough sides of the grand old mountain, more impressive than any snow peak in Europe, one unconsciously plans anattack, as the climbing instinct is aroused. 

Abruzzi has taken Mt. St. Elias out of the field of the mountain climberlooking for new peaks, but a glance at the map shows us Mt. Logan, 19, 000 feet, backing up Mt. St. Elias from the north, and Mt. McKinley, 20, 000 feet, the highest known peak we have, placed nearer the center ofthe big peninsula. These should now claim the attention of some goodmountaineer, with time and money at his command. They demand both. 

We did not fail to inquire at Yakutat about that rare animal, the blueor St. Elias bear, and were told that two or three skins were securedevery year. I was later much disappointed in being unable to return tothis coast early enough in the year to look up this bear, which hasnever been killed by a white man, and as its skull has never beenbrought in by the Indians, it remains practically unknown. 

The island of Kayak, the next calling place for boats, played a veryimportant part in the early history of Alaska. This is the first landthat Bering sighted, and where he landed after the memorable voyage ofhis two boats, the St. Peter and St. Paul, from Kamtschatka. 

The early Russian adventurers of this part of the world have, it seems, been lost sight of, and have not had justice done them. The names of theDane Bering, the Russians Shelikoff and Baranoff, should mean to ussomething more than the name of a sea, strait or island. A man whofitted out his expedition in Moscow, carried much of the buildingmaterial for his two boats across Siberia to the rough shores ofKamtschatka, and sailed boldly eastward, deserves our warmestadmiration. Bering never reached home. He died on the return voyage, and was buried on the small island of the Commander group which bearshis name. The story of the expedition is one of extreme hardship and ofsplendid Russian courage. 

At Orca we were transferred to the Newport, with Captain Moore incommand, and, as on the Excelsior, everything was done for our comfort. We looked with envious eyes on Montague Island as we passed it in PrinceWilliam Sound, for we were told that the natives avoid fishing andshooting here, claiming that the big Montague brown bear are larger andfiercer than any others. 

Our boat made a brief call at Homer, in Cook Inlet, one of the startingpoints for the famous Kenai shooting grounds. This inlet was named forthe renowned voyager, who hoped that it would furnish a water passagefor him to Hudson's Bay. 

The trees stop at Cook Inlet, there being only a few on the westernshore. To the south the wooded line intersects the Kadiak group ofislands, and we find the northeastern part of Kadiak, as well as thewhole of Wood and Afognak, except the central portion of the last, wellcovered with spruce. 

The absence of forests makes it often possible to see for miles over thecountry, and explains why the Barren Grounds of Alaska offer suchwonderful opportunities for bear hunting. There are bears all along thesouthern coast of the peninsula, but in the timber there, as elsewhere, the bears have all the best of it. 

On leaving Cook Inlet, we kept a southerly course through the gloomyBarren Islands which mark the eastern boundary of the much-dreadedShelikoff Straits, and early one morning passed Afognak, and made WoodIsland landing, where we were most hospitably received by the NorthAmerican Fur Company's people. Wood Island, about 1-1/2 miles from Kadiak, is small and well covered with spruce. It has some two hundred people, for the most part natives, and under Russian rule was used for a hugeice-storing plant. Kadiak Island, 100 miles by 30, is thickly studdedwith mountains, and extremely picturesque, with the white covering ofearly spring, as we found it, or when green with heavy grass dotted withwild flowers in July. 

[Illustration: ST. PAUL, KADIAK ISLAND. ]

The Kadiak group looks as if it might have fallen out of Cook Inlet, andone of the native legends tells us that once the Kadiak Islands were sonear the Alaskan shore that a mammoth sea otter, while trying to swimthrough the narrow straits, got wedged between the rocks, and histremendous struggles to free himself pushed the islands out into theirpresent position. The sea otter and bear have always been mostintimately connected with the lives of the Kadiakers, and have exerciseda more important influence on their characters than any of theirsurroundings except the sea. It is no wonder, then, that the nativesendowed these animals with a strength and size which easily takes theminto the realm of mythology. The sea otter being nearly extinct, thebear is now made to shoulder all the large stories, and, strong as heis, this is no light burden. 

The Kadiak coast line is roughly broken by deep bays, running inlandfrom a half mile to fifteen or twenty miles. Some are broad, othersnarrow, but all are walled in by serrated, mountainous sides, muchresembling the fjords of Norway. The highest peaks are about 4, 000feet. 

The portions of Kadiak Island uncovered by spruce and the barren landsof the mainland, are not absolutely devoid of trees or bushes. Oftenthere is a considerable growth of cottonwood trees along the bottomlands of the streams, and large patches of alder bushes are common, sothat when the leaves are well out, one's view of the bottoms and lowerhillsides is much obscured. The snowfall must be heavy on the upperreaches of the mountains, as there are great white patches to be seenwell into the summer time. The climate is not what one would expect, unless he should look at the map, and note the warm Kuro Siwo (Japancurrent) sweeping along the southern Alaskan coast. Zero weather isuncommon, and except for the great rainfall the island is a verycomfortable place of existence; existence, because that is the limitreached by most of the people. The few connected with the mission andthe two fur companies are necessarily busy people, the latter especiallyso on steamer days, but a deep, unbroken peacefulness permeates theisland and its people; it is a place so apart that outside happeningsawaken but little interest, and time is not weighed in the balance. Someof the rare old Kadiak repose seems to have come down to the presentpeople from the time when Lisiansky first visited the island and foundthe natives sitting on their mud houses, or on the shore, gazing intospace, with apparent satisfaction. 

[Illustration: SUNSET IN ENGLISH BAY, KADIAK. ]

On the other hand, if there is any sailing, fishing or shooting to bedone, you will find the Kadiakers keen enough, and in trying situationsthey will command your respect, and will quite reverse your impressionof them, gathered in the village life. The Eskimo inhabitants of the oldtimes are gone, and the population is now made up of Russians, Creoles(part Russian and part Aleut), and a handful of Americans. 

The natives are good-natured but not prepossessing in looks orcleanly. They live in dwellings kept very hot, and both men and womeninjure themselves by immoderate indulgence in the banya, a small Turkishbath, often attached to the barabaras, or native huts. It is made like asmall barabara, except there is no smoke hole, has a similar frame, isthatched with straw, and can be made air-tight. The necessary steam isfurnished by pouring water on stones previously heated very hot. 

The women are frail and many die of consumption. When once sick, theyappear to have no physical or mental resistance. They must beattractive, however, as there is a considerable population of white menhere who have taken native wives. From a condition of comparativewealth, eight or ten years ago, when fur was plenty and money cameeasily, and was as promptly spent on all sorts of unnecessary luxuries, these people are now rapidly coming down to salmon, codfish andpotatoes. When a native wants anything, he will sell whatever he ownsfor it, even to his rifle or wife. They almost all belong to the GreekChurch, the Russians, when we bought Alaska, having reserved the rightto keep their priests in the country. 

The baidarka, the most valuable possession of the native in a country socut up by waterways that little traveling is done by land, deserves aword. These are trusted in the roughest water more than any othercraft, except the largest. A trip from Kadiak to Seattle in a baidarkais in fact on record. With a light framework of wood, covered, bottomand deck, excepting the hatches, with the skin of the hair seal, it islighter than any other canoe, pliable, but very staunch, and works itsway over the waves more like a snake than a boat. The lines are suchthat friction is done away with, and driven through the water by goodmen, it is the most graceful craft afloat. It has a curious split prow, so made for ease in lifting with one hand, and may have one, two, orthree hatches, according to its size. The paddles used are curiouslynarrow and pointed. 

What still remains unexplained is the native one-sided method ofpaddling; that is to say, in a two-hatch baidarka, both natives make sixor seven short strokes on one side together, and then change to theother side. An absolutely straight course is thus impossible, but theAleut is a creature of habit, and smiles at all new suggestions. 

In the canoe is plenty of room for provisions and live stock. I speak ofthe latter because a native will often carry his wife, children, and doginside a one-hatch baidarka while he paddles. 

Water is kept out of the hatches by the kamlaykas which the nativeswear. This is a long jacket made of bears' intestines, very light andwater tight, and when the neck and sleeve bands are made fast, and theskirts secured about the hatch with a thong, man and canoe alike are dryas a chip. 

In the early days, Shelikoff's severe rule in Kadiak actively encouragedthe hunting instinct, and the first Russian fur post was established atSt. Paul, named after one of Bering's boats, the present town of Kadiak, by far the largest village of the island, and situated on the easterncoast, opposite Wood Island. It is said that the Russians, after a fewvery prosperous years of indiscriminate slaughter, recognized the greatimportance of carrying on the fur industry in a systematic manner, inorder to prevent entire extinction of the game, and divided the landsand waters into large districts. They made laws, with severe penaltiesattached, and enforced them. Certain districts were hunted and trappedover in certain years. Fur animals were killed only when in goodpelage, and the young were spared. In this way hunted sections alwayshad considerable intervals in which to recover from attacks. 

A solitary sea otter skin hanging up in the fur company's store, at theend of the season, told us plainer than words that these animals, formerly so plentiful east of Kadiak Island, and along the coast ofCook's Inlet, were almost extinct. Two of our hunters were famous shots, and they liked to talk of the good old days, when sea otter and bearwere plenty. One of them, Ivan, it is claimed, made $3, 000 in oneday. The amount paid a native is $200 or more for each sea otter pelt. They are much larger than a land otter, a good skin measuring six feetin length and three feet in width when split and stretched. 

When fishing is allowed from schooners, the natives leave Kadiak for thegrounds early in May. Each schooner carries thirty or forty baidarkasand twice as many men. Otters are often found at some distance fromshore, and can be seen only when the water is quiet. The natives preferthe bow and arrow to the . 40-65 Winchesters the company have given them, even claiming that otter are scarce because they have been driven fromtheir old grounds by the noise of firearms. The bows, four feet long, are very stout, and strongly reinforced with cords of sinew along theback. The arrows, a little under a yard in length, are tipped with awell-polished piece of whalebone. A sharp and barbed piece of whale'stooth fits into a hole bored in the end of the bone, and a cord ofconsiderable length is tied to the detachable arrow head, the other endof the cord being wound around and fastened to the middle of the shaft. 

The advantages of this arrow are obvious. When the game is struck, itsstruggles disengage the arrow head, and the shaft being dragged by thecord attached to its middle, soon tires the otter out. The seal spears, used for the finishing coup, are made in the same way, and in additionhave attached to the long shaft a bladder, which continually draws theanimal to the surface. So expert are the natives, that, after shootingseveral arrows, they gather them all up together in one hand as theysweep by in a baidarka. The arrow is not sent straight to the mark, butdescribes a considerable curve. Good bows are valued very highly, and onan otter expedition will not be swapped even for a rifle. 

On a favorable morning the baidarkas leave the schooners, and, holdingtheir direction so as to describe a large fan, can view a good piece ofwater. A paddle held high in air shows that game has been sighted, and alarge circle, perhaps a mile in circumference, is at once formed aroundthe otter, each baidarka trying to get in the first successful shot. Tothe man who first hits home belongs the skin, but as an otter can stayunder water twenty minutes, and when rising for air exposes only hisnose, a long and exciting chase follows. 

Some natives patrol the small island shores, and during the winter makea good harvest picking up dead otters which have washed ashore. Thishappens in winter, because it is during severest weather that the otterfreezes his nose, which means death. The pelts from these frozenanimals, however, bring only a small price. 

In earlier days nets were spread beneath the water around rocks shown bythe hair rubbings to be resting places of otter. The method was oftensuccessful, as the poor beast swam over the trap in gaining his rock, but when leaving dove well below the surface, and was caught. Thisbarbarous custom, together with the netting of ducks in narrowpassageways, has, fortunately, long been a thing of the past. 

In Kadiak Village, we met a Captain Nelson, the first man down from thenorth that spring, who had sledded from Nome to Katmai on ShelikoffStraits in two months. At Katmai he was held up several days, his menrefusing to cross the straits until the local weather prophet, orastronom, as he is called, gave his consent. Seven hours of hardpaddling carried them over the twenty-seven miles, the most treacherousof Alaskan narrows. 

These astronoms are relics of an interesting type, who formerly heldfirm sway over the natives. They are supposed to know much about theweather from reading the sunrises, sunsets, stars, moon and tides, andoften sit on a hilltop for hours studying the weather conditions. Theyare still absolutely relied upon to decide when sea otter parties maystart on a trip, and are looked up to and trusted as chiefs by thepeople of the villages in which they live. 

At Wood Island we heard of Messrs. Kidder and Blake, two other sportsmenfrom Boston, who had already left for their hunting grounds in KaludaBay. 

The spring was backward, and the bears still in their dens, but Merriamand I decided to take the North American Company's schooner Maksoutoffon its spring voyage around the island, when it carries supplies andcollects furs from the natives. We were to sail as far as Kaguiac, asmall village on the south shore, and were here promised a 30-foot sloopby the company. We added to our equipment two native baidarkas forhunting and a bear dog belonging to an old Russian hunter, WalterMatroken. Tchort (Russian for Devil) looked like a cross between a waterspaniel and a Newfoundland, and though old and poorly supplied withteeth, many of which he had lost during his acquaintance with bears, heproved a good companion, game in emergencies, and a splendid retriever. 

Our rifle and camera batteries were as follows:

Merriam had a. 45-70 and a. 50-110 Winchester, both shooting half-jacketedbullets. My rifles were a. 30-40 Winchester, a double . 577, and adouble . 40-93-400, kindly lent me by Mr. S. D. Warren, of Boston, and onwhich I relied. Besides the pocket cameras and a small Goerz, I carriedone camera with double lenses of 17-1/2-inch focus, and one with singlelense of 30-inch focus. The last two were, of course, intended foranimals at long range. 

Hoping to prove something in regard to the weight of the Kadiak bear, Ibrought a pair of Fairbanks spring scales, weighing up to 300 pounds, and some water-tight canvas bags for weighing blood and the viscera. 

We selected two good men as hunters for the trip, Vacille and Klampe. 

On the second day out from Wood Island a storm came on, and though theMaksoutoff was staunch, we could not hold for our port, owing to theexposed coast, where squalls come sweeping without warning from themountain tops, driving the snow down like smoke, the so-called"wollies. " It was wild and wintry enough when we turned into thesheltered protection of Steragowan Harbor. 

A few mallards and a goose were here added to the ship's store nextmorning from the flats, and the weather clearing, we made Kaguiac, andfound our sloop in good condition. In addition we took along an otterboat, a large rowboat, from here, as our baidarkas proved ratherunseaworthy. Besides Mr. Heitman, the fur company's man, there was oneother white settler in Kaguiac named Walch, who came to Kadiaktwenty-seven years ago at the time of the first American militaryoccupation, and though he had served in many an exciting battle in theCivil War, the Kadiak calm appealed to him. He married, settled downamong the natives contentedly, and has never moved since. This, curiously, is the case of many men who come to the North, after leadingwandering and adventurous lives. 

Unfavorable winds at Kaguiac delayed our sailing, so we passed the timein excursions after ptarmigans and mallards. We also secured hereanother native, a strong, willing worker, who knew the coast. 

The weather cleared suddenly, the wind shifting from northeast tonorthwest, and enabled us to make a run to our first good hunting groundin Windy Bay, a large piece of water five miles long by three wide, andsurrounded by rock mountains covered with snow, the only bare ground tobe seen at this time being on the low foothills, and in the sunnyravines. We made ourselves at home at the only good anchorage in a smallcove with high crags on two sides and a ravine running off toward theeast. 

The following morning--April 28--opened bright and calm, and we weresoon viewing the snow slopes with our glasses. Ivan, the new man, wasthe first to call our attention to a streak on a distant mountain side, and although perhaps 2-1/2 miles away, we could make out, even with thenaked eye, a deep furrow in the snow running down diagonally into thevalley below, undoubtedly a bear road. I took a five-cent piece from mypocket, tossed for choice of shot, and lost to Merriam. 

Once on land, we found the going very bad, and often wallowed in thesnow mid-thigh deep. Then was the time for snowshoes, which we had beentold were unnecessary. Floundering along in this soft snow began to tella little on the keenness of the party, when Vacille and Ivan, who wereoff on one side, suddenly waved, and hunting on to them we were shownthe bear far up the valley in some bushes. As he lay on his side in thesnow he looked much like a cord of wood, and very large. The wind camequartering down the valley, and made a stalk difficult, so it wasthought best to wait, as the bear would probably come down nearer thewater in the evening. We watched nearly four hours, and during that timethe bear made perhaps 150 yards in all, crawling, rolling over, lappinghis paws, occasionally trying a somersault, and finally landing in apatch of alders. 

As night was upon us, we decided to chance the situation, and approachedalong a ridge on one side of the valley until almost above the bear. Atthis point Tchort, the dog, caught the scent, broke away, and raced downover the bluff out of sight. Almost immediately the bear appeared inthe open 200 yards away, legging as fast as he could in the snow, andheaded for the hillside. Merriam made a good shot behind the shoulderwith his fifty. The bear fell, caught his feet again, and was in andover a small brook, leaving a bloody road behind him, which Tchort wasquick in following. The dog was soon nipping the bear's heels, andgiving him a good deal of trouble. Up the side of the hill they raced, Merriam firing when the dog gave him opportunity. The bear, angry andworried, suddenly whipped around and made for the dog, which in the softsnow at such close quarters could not escape. But Tchort, a bornfighter, accepted the only chance and closed in. He disappearedcompletely between the forelegs of the bear, and we felt that all wasover. To our great wonder in a few seconds he crawled out from beneaththe hindquarters of his enemy, and engaged him again. One more shot andthe bear lay quiet. The skin was a beauty--dark brown, with a littlesilvering of gray over the shoulders, without any rubbed spots, such asare common on bears only just out of their dens. Some brush was thrownover the bear, and we rowed back to the sloop, well content. The nextday, which was foggy and rainy, was spent in getting off the skin, measuring and weighing the animal piecemeal, and carrying all back tothe sloop. 

Contrary to expectation, the bear was found to be still covered with athin layer of fat, even after his long hibernation. Before weighing, ourmen, who had killed some thirty bear among them, said that this one wastwo-thirds as large as any they had seen. 

The measurements and weights were as follows: Height at shoulder, about4 ft. Length in straight line from nose to root of tail, 6 ft. 8 in. Total weight, 625 lbs. Weight of middle piece, 260 lbs. Weight of skull(skin removed), 20 lbs. Weight of skin, 80 lbs. The right forearmweighed 50 lbs. , and the left 55. This supports the theory that a bearis left-handed. Right hind-quarter, 60 lbs. ; left hindquarter, 60pounds. The stomach was filled with short alder sticks, not much chewed, and one small bird feather. Organic acids were present in the stomach, but no free hydrochloric for digestion of flesh. 

It was a great satisfaction to see that none of the bear was wasted, which fact brings up one very good trait of the Creole hunters. Theydislike to go after bear into a district situated far from the coast, because in so rough a country it is almost impossible to get all themeat out. They sell the skin, eat the meat, and make the intestines intokamlaykas for baidarka work. 

April 30 a strong wind kept us from trying the head of the bay, and ashort trip was made up into a low lying valley, near the sloop, butwithout results. 

Our men had already proved themselves good. Vacille was the bestwaterman and a good cook; Klampe the best hunter, and Ivan a glutton forall sorts of work. 

The underlying principle on which the Aleut hunter works was brought outon our short bear hunt. After sighting the game, he waits until he issure of his wind, then takes a stand where the bear will pass close by, and shows himself a monument of patience. Almost all the viewing is donefrom the water, a small hill near the shore being occasionally used fora lookout. They get up at daylight, and two men in a baidarka patrolboth sides of a big bay, watching carefully for bear tracks on themountain sides, as this is the surest indication of their presence. Assoon as the bears come from their dens they always make a climbing tour, the natives claiming that this exercise is taken to strengthenthem. Personally I believe the Kadiak bear has very good reasons forkeeping on the move continually outside of his hibernating season. 

If the natives find no sign on their morning tour, they rest all day, perhaps taking a Turkish bath in a banya, which is not infrequentlyattached to the hunting barabara. Another trip of inspection is madeagain in the afternoon at four or five o'clock, as the bear usually liesup between nine and three. A bay is watched for several days in thisway, and if nothing is seen the natives return to their village, or huntthe hair seal, which are still to be found in fair numbers, especiallyon Afognak Island. 

When you are with these men you must either conduct the shooting trip onyour own lines or give yourself entirely into the native's hands, and doas he thinks best. You must leave him alone, and not bother him withmany questions, and in any case you usually get _Nish naiou_ ("Idon't know") for answer. The native gives this reply without thinking;it is so much easier. The most you can do is to cheer him on when luckis bad, as he is easily discouraged and becomes homesick. 

During the bad weather that followed we had plenty of opportunity to useour ingenuity in extracting information from our men on the subject ofbear. 

It seems that the Kadiak bear hibernates, as a rule, from December toApril, depending on the season somewhat, and the young are supposed tobe born in March in the dens. Although the skins are good in the latefall, they are finest when the bear first comes out in early spring, asit is then that the hide is thinnest and the hair longest. On the otherhand, in summer, when the hair is very thin, the hide becomes extremelythick and heavy; this condition changing again as fall comes on. Thetotal amount of epidermis, in other words, does not vary so much as onewould suppose, and whether the hide or the hair is responsible for mostof the weight depends on the time of year. 

When the animal leaves his den he finds food scarce, and has to go onthe principle that a full stomach is better than an empty one, even ifthe filling is made of alder twigs. It is not long, however, beforegreen grass begins to sprout along the small streams, low down, andgrass and the roots of the salmon berry bushes carry the bear alonguntil the fish run. 

The running of the salmon varies, and the bears make frequentprospecting trips down the streams in order to be sure to be on hand forthe first run, which usually occurs during the latter part ofMay. During the salmon season the bears have opportunity to fillthemselves full every night, and put on a tremendous weight of fat inthe late fall, when they become saucy and lazy, and more inclined toshow fight. Berries--especially the salmon berry--help out the fish dietin summer time. As soon as salmon becomes their food the peltsdeteriorate, but unless living near a red salmon stream, with shallowreaches, the bears do not get much fish diet until the second run earlyin July, so that fair skins are sometimes obtained even up to June 15, although by this time the hair is usually much faded in color. 

The bear makes a zigzag course down the salmon stream from one shallowrapid to another, standing immovable while fishing, and throwing out hiscatch with the left paw. The numerous fishing beds give a false idea ofthe number of bear present in a district, as it takes but a few days fora single bear to cover the sides of a stream for a long distance withsuch places. One finds fish skeletons scattered all along a salmonstream, and it is generally easy to tell whether a bear or eagle hasmade the kill. An eagle usually carries the whole fish away with him, leaving only scales behind. A bear, on the other hand, eats his fishwhere he catches him, preferring the belly and back, and usuallydiscarding the skeleton, and always the under jaw. 

The Finn hunter whom I met on my way north, said he had seen an old cowbear when fishing with her cubs, rush salmon in toward the shore andscoop them out for the young. Generally they watch on a low bank, or inthe shallow water, while fishing. 

During the rutting season, supposed to be in June, the female travelsahead, the male bringing up the rear to furnish protection from thatquarter. Then if one kills the female the male gives trouble, oftencharging on sight. 

The Finn thought that, as a rule, the cow bear comes on at a gallop anda bull rises on his hind legs when getting in close. When wounded thebear usually strikes the injured spot, or if it is a cow and cubs, theold one cuffs her young soundly, thinking them the cause of pain. Thenose is the main source of protection, as, like all bears, these arefollowed to their very dens in the fall by the keenest of hunters, andtheir only restful sleep is the long winter one. Fortunately someexcellent game laws for Alaska have been passed, and by making a closeseason for several years, followed by severe restrictions, we may yethope that the perpetual preservation of this grand brown bear will beassured on the Kadiak group, which, from its situation, fitly offershim, when well guarded, his best chance of making a successful standagainst his enemies. 

[Illustration: SITKALIDAK ISLAND FROM KADIAK. ]

The fact that the natives make a profit from the bear skins, and thathis flesh furnishes them with food is not to be considered, as at thepresent rate of extermination there will soon be no bear left fordiscussion. 

The natives certainly could and should be helped out in their living, ascompetition in the fur trade of late has so exterminated fur-bearinganimals that hunting and trapping bring them in little, and their dietis indeed low. One of my hunters during last fall only secured one bear, one silver gray fox, and two land otter. 

A good way to help out the food question, and compensate the native forhis loss of bear meat, would be to transport a goodly number of Sitkadeer to the three islands, and allow them to multiply. There has been aSitka deer on Wood Island for several years, and he has lived throughthe winters without harm, as his footprints scattered over the islandtestify. Afognak and Wood Island are especially suitable for such apurpose, being well wooded and furnishing plenty of winter food for deerin willows, alders and black birch. The clement winters make the planfeasible, and it ought not to be an expensive experiment. 

[Illustration: A KADIAK EAGLE. ]

We had a very bad time of it on the night of April 30, which showed mewhat I had long felt, that the dangers of Kadiak were not centered inthe bear, but in the tremendous wind blows and tide rips in itsfjords. A strong wind came on from the east, and fairly howled throughthe ravine opposite our anchorage, catching our little sloop with fullforce. We could not change our position, as we occupied the onlyanchorage. Vacille, who had turned in, felt the anchor dragging, and wefound ourselves being blown out into the large bay, where we could nothave lived for any time in the big seas, and, should we continue todrag, our only chance was to try to beach her on a sand shore some halfmile away. 

When the boat was not dragging she was wallowing in cross seas, andbeing hammered by the otter boat, which was difficult to manage. Theanchors held firmly, much to our relief, and after a disagreeable nightof watching we beat back to our mooring at the head of the littlecove. The mountains being covered with fresh snow in the morning, therewas nothing to do but eat and sleep. 

The bear meat improved with age, and hours of boiling rid it of itsbitter flavor. The whole cabin--and its occupants--smelled of bear'sgrease. The thermometer registered 30. 

On May 2, as the wind was unsuitable for bear hunting, we made aphotographing trip to a cliff across the bay, where two bald-headedeagles had built their nest. Merriam and I had a very interesting stalkwith a camera. We landed near the cliff, and the eagles, becomingdisturbed, flew away. The men were sent out in the boat, and we kept inhiding until signalled that the birds had quieted down. We gained thetop of the cliff, a mere knife edge in places, where we worked our wayalong, straddling the rock. The birds had selected a splendid place, straight up from the water, where they had built their nest firmly intoa bush on the side of the cliff. 

I stalked the eagle within about 75 feet and caught her with the camera, as she was leaving her nest. The earth forming the center of the nestwas frozen and three eggs lay in a little hollow of hay on top. The bigbirds circled about us all the time, but did not offer toattack. Bald-headed eagles are very common on Kadiak, and are alwaysfound about the salmon streams later, during the run, being goodfishermen. It seems they, of all the birds here, are the first to laytheir eggs, and their young are the last to leave the nest. 

We secured some eagle eggs on these trips, of which we made several, andfound the cliff nests much the easier to approach, as it was verydifficult to get above nests built in trees. 

In connection with the eagle, the magpie should not be forgotten. Ofthese black and white birds there were many about, and there seemed tobe a bond of sympathy between the widely separated species ofmarauders. Bold enough we knew the smaller bird to be, but to believethat he would actually steal an eagle's fish breakfast from under hisvery nose one must sec the act. The eagle appeared to mind but little, occasionally pecking the thief away when he became offensive. 

The magpie, on the other hand, seemed to have a warm feeling for his bigfriend, and once at least we saw him flying about an eagle's nest andwarning the old birds of our approach with his harsh cry. 

One good day among many bad ones showed no more bear signs, so we soapedthe seams of the otter boat, which leaked badly, and set sail for ThreeSaints Bay, named after Shelikoff's ship. This proved to be a narrowpiece of water running far inland, with snow-covered mountain sides, andby far the most beautiful fjord on the island. 

There were no bear signs, however, and a favorable wind carried useastward toward Kaluda Bay, where Kidder and Blake were hunting. On ourway we stopped at Steragowan, an interesting little village, bought afew stores, and secured some interesting stone lamps, and whale spears, with throwing sticks. 

Once in Kaluda Bay, we found Kidder's and Blake's barabara where theymade headquarters, and their cook informed us that both sportsmen weremany miles up the bay after bear. 

Several years ago there was a flourishing colony of natives at theentrance to Kaluda Bay, but now there are only two hunting barabaras, abroken down chapel, and a good-sized graveyard. The village prospereduntil one day a dead whale was reported not far from land. All theinhabitants gorged themselves on the putrid blubber, and they diedalmost to a man. 

The Kadiakers show a good deal of courage in whale hunting. With nothingbut their whale spears tipped with slate, two men will run close up to awhale, drive two spears home with a throwing stick, and make offagain. The slate is believed in some way to poison the animal, and heoften dies within a short time. The natives go home, return in a fewdays, and, if lucky, find the whale in the same bay. Whales are plenty, and were sometimes annoying to us, playing too near our otter boat. Onone occasion we tried a shot at one that was paying us too muchattention, and persuaded the big chap to leave us in peace. 

Bad weather held us fast several days, but we finally made the southeastcorner of the island, and from there had good wind to Kadiak. On our waywe passed Uyak, one of the blue fox islands. Raising these animals fortheir fur has become a regular business, and when furs are high it payswell. The blue fox has been found to be the only one that multiplieswell in comparative captivity, and he thrives on salmon flesh. 

At Wood Island, news came to us through prospectors, of a bear inEnglish Bay, south of Kadiak village. This bay is well known as a goodbear ground, and at the end of the bay there are some huge iron cagesweighing tons which were used as bear traps, some years ago, by menworking for the Smithsonian Institution. 

We found bear tracks coming into the valley, down one mountain side, andleading out over the opposite mountain, and were obliged to return toWood Island empty handed. 

Merriam now decided to return home on the next boat, and after a fewdays I started off for the north side of Kadiak in an otter boat fittedwith sail, picking up on the way a white man, Jack Robinson, and anative hunter, Vacille, at Ozinka, a small village on Spruce Island. Mymen proved a good combination, but we were all obliged to work hard fortwo months before a bear was finally secured. 

We tried bay after bay, and were often held up, and for days at a timekept from good grounds by stormy weather and bad winds. The inability todo anything for long periods made these months the most wearing I haveever passed. Our little open boat went well only before the wind, but, as somebody has said, the prevailing winds in Alaska are head winds, andwe spent many long hours at the oars. 

Although we had a good tent with us, we used, for the most part, thenative hunting barabara for shelter. These are fairly clean andcomfortable, and are found in every bay of any size. 

The natives inherit their hunting grounds, and are apparently scrupulousin observing each other's rights. In fact, it is dangerous to invadeanother man's trapping country, as one may spring a Klipse trap set forfox and otter, and receive a dangerous gash from the blade that makesthese contrivances so deadly. 

On the way to the hunting grounds Vacille pointed out to us a cliffwhere he once had an exciting bear hunt. 

There were two hunters, and they were fortunate enough to locate aninhabited den in early spring. Two bears were killed through crevices inthe rocks, but the men suspected there was still one inside, and Vacillecrawled in to make sure. He found himself in a fair sized chamber witha bear at the other end, and a lucky shot tumbled the animal at hisfeet. 

This story brought up others of bear hunting with the lance. Beforefirearms came into common use, boys were given lessons in fighting thebear with the lance, and became very expert at it. Their method was toapproach a bear as closely as possible, without being seen, then showthemselves suddenly, and as the bear reared strike home. The lance washeld fast by the native, and the bear was often mortally wounded byforcing the lance into himself in his struggles to reach his enemy. 

This class of native no longer exists on Kadiak, but it is said there isone famous old Aleut near Iliamna Lake on the mainland who scorns anybut this method of hunting. 

High above the den where the three bears were killed was a scoop out ofthe cliff called the shaman's barabara. Here, before Russian times, theshamans or witches were buried, and here also were kept the masks usedin certain ceremonial rites. The Russians removed the mummies and maskslong ago. 

The shamans were considered oracles. It was claimed they could prevent awhale from swimming out of a bay by dragging a bag of fat, extractedfrom the dead body of a newly born infant, across the entrance. Theirinstructions were unfailingly obeyed, as it was supposed they couldcause death as a punishment for their enemies. 

One evening at our first halting place beyond Ozinka, we found tracks inthe snow on one side of our valley, and early in the morning came upon atwo-year-old bear, not far from camp. The bear was grubbing about on thehillside, and we took our position so that he crossed us under a hundredyards. Unbeknown to me, and just as I was about to fire, my native gavethe caw of a raven to hold the bear up. He whipped around and faced us, my bullet entering the brush on one side of him. Off he rushed into thewoods with the dog after him. I followed, and on coming out into aclearing saw the dog being left far behind on the mountain side. OldTchort was not in condition. This was sad and illustrated the fact thatit is sometimes best to be alone. 

[Illustration: BEAR PATHS, KODIAK ISLAND. ]

We next tried Kaguiac Bay and here spent many days. Two bears had beenkilled by the natives near the barabara where we camped, and there wasplenty of sign. 

Before sunrise we were watching from a good position, and it wasscarcely light when Vacille made out a big bear, two miles or moreaway. He was traveling the snow arête of the mountain opposite, andtrying to find a good descent into our valley. One could see the hugebody and head plainly with the naked eye against the sky-line as he madehis way rapidly through the deep snow. Finally he found a placesomewhat bare of snow and gave us a splendid exhibition of rockclimbing. It took little time for him to get down into the alders, where he apparently dropped asleep. To our astonishment he woke up about10 o'clock and worked down toward the bottom land. We stalked him in thewoods and alders, which were very thick, within 300 yards, and here Ishould have risked a shot at his hindquarters showing up brown againstthe hillside, and seemingly as large as a horse. 

We chanced a nearer approach, though the wind was treacherous, andcoming up to a spot where we could have viewed him found the monster haddecamped. All attempts to locate him again were fruitless. 

The bear paths around this bay were a very interesting study. They arehammered deep into the earth, and afford as good means of traveling asthe New Brunswick moose paths. 

Sometimes instead of a single road we have a double one, the bear usingone path for the legs of each side of his body. Again, on soft mossyside hills, instead of paths we find single footprints which have beenused over and over, and made into huge saucers, it being the custom ofthe bear to take long strides on the side hills, and to step into theimpressions made by other animals which had traveled ahead of it. 

The red salmon were beginning to run, and some fishermen in another partof the bay supplied us, from time to time, from their nets. Especiallygood were the salmon heads roasted. 

Bear sign failed, and Afognak Island, where Vacille shot and trapped, had been so much talked about, that I determined to see it for myself, and with a good wind we rowed across the straits and sailed twelve milesinto the island by Kofikoski Bay. 

[Illustration: BEAR PATHS, KODIAK ISLAND. ]

Scattered along up the bay were small islands, and these furnished uswith a good supply of gulls' eggs, which lasted many days. 

The Afognak coast is heavily wooded with spruce, while a large plateauin the interior is almost barren, and gave good opportunity for usingthe glasses. 

During several days at the head of Kofikoski Bay nothing was seen, so wepacked up and crossed a large piece of the island by portages and achain of lakes, where our Osgood boat was indispensable. The countrycrossed was like a beautiful park of meadows, groves and lakes, and onecould scarcely believe it was uncultivated. 

The Red Salmon River of Seal Harbor, to which we were headed, could notfail us, for bear could scoop out the salmon in armfuls below the lowerfalls, so Vacille said, and he was honest, and now as keen as anythingwhile traveling his own hunting grounds. 

For a whole week a northeast storm blew directly toward the bay, andkept us in camp. It was fishing weather, however, and my fly-rod, with aParmachenee belle, kept us well supplied with steelheads and speckledtrout, which were plentiful in the clear waters of a wandering troutbrook running through a meadow below the camp. 

A calm evening came finally, and we paddled down the last lake, somethree miles, to the famous pool. 

There were the salmon swarming below the fall, and many constantly inthe air on their upward journey, but the eagles perched high on the darkspruces, closing in the swirling water, were all they had to fear. Therewere no bears and no fresh bear signs. It was an ideal spot, this salmonpool, but a feast for the eyes only, as the red salmon will not rise toa fly. Even Tchort looked disconsolate on our track back to Ozinka. 

About July 10 there is usually a run of dog salmon, and not much lateranother of humpbacks. The dog salmon grow to be about twice as large asthe red salmon, and often weigh 12 pounds. They are much more sluggishthan the red fish, and as they prefer the small shallow streams, becomean easy prey for the bear. The humpback fish are fatter and bettereating even than the red salmon, but are somewhat smaller. 

The red fish never ascend a stream which has not a lake on its upperwaters for spawning. The dog and humpback, on the contrary, are not soparticular, and are found almost everywhere. In September there is a runof silver salmon, which, like the red salmon, will only swim a streamwith a lake at its head. They run up to 40 pounds, and the bears growfat on them before turning into winter quarters. The skeletons of thisbig fish, cleaned by bear, are found along every small stream runningfrom the lakes. 

The large canneries, like the one at Karluk, on Karluk River, near thewestern end of Kadiak, put up only the red salmon. They are not nearlyas good eating as the humpback or silver salmon, but are red, and thiscolor distinction the market demands. The catches at Karluk run up intothe tens of thousands, and one thinks of this with many misgivings, remembering the fate of the sea otter and bear. Good hatcheries areconstantly busy, keeping up the supply, but it appears that though onein every ten thousand of these fish is marked before being set free, sofar as known no marked fish have ever been captured. 

On our return to Kadiak Island, we found the streams still free ofsalmon, and the vegetation had become so rank as to interfere a gooddeal with traveling and sighting game. The whole party looked serious, and the strain was beginning to tell, no game having been seen for sevenlong weeks. This, with the swarms of gnats and mosquitoes, made timepass heavily. 

Other places proving barren, we finally brought up at Wesnoi Leide, halfan hour's row from Ozinka, and found the dog fish just beginning to runup stream, at the head of the bay. Better still, there were fresh beartracks. 

The wind was favorable, and we stationed ourselves the first evening ona bluff overlooking a long meadow, on the lower part of the stream. Hardly had we sat down, when Vacille said: "If that brown spot on thehillside were not so large, I would take it for a bear. " The brown spotpromptly walked into the woods, half a mile away. We were keen enoughagain, but our watching proved fruitless, as nothing came down on themeadow, showing that there was good fishing well up the stream. 

We rowed back to Ozinka, and left the country undisturbed, determined toget well into the woods the following night, before the bear came downto feed. 

The next evening we made an early start, and walking up the stream intothe woods found plenty of fresh tracks, and finally halted by some bigtrees. The men placed themselves on some high limbs, where they couldwatch, and I stood in deep grass, some six or eight feet from awell-traveled path used by the bear in fishing the stream. The magpieswere calling all about, and seemed to be saying, _Midwit, midwit_, Aleut for bear. The air was dead calm. Hardly were the men on theirperches, before they saw a bear walk into the brush on one side of thevalley. We waited quietly, in the midst of mosquitoes, but nothing camein sight. It was already after 10 o'clock, and so dark that the mengave up their watch, and came down to join me. Suddenly we heard a sharpscreech up the stream, and when it was repeated, Vacille said it must bea young bear crying because its mother would not feed it fastenough. Here Vacille did some good work. 

We walked rapidly up stream, through the thick brush, and before we hadgone 100 yards heard a large animal, just ahead, moving about in thebrush, and making a good deal of noise. I started ahead to get a view, thinking we had disturbed the bear, but Vacille held me back. We walkedon noiselessly to a little bare point in the stream, and just then thebear appeared, bent on fishing, thirty feet away. She lumbered down intothe stream, and when I fired fell into the water, the ball just missingher shoulder. She was up again, and this time I shot hurriedly, and alittle behind the ribs. She ran, crossing up about forty feet away, anda trial with the . 30-40 scored, but made no impression. 

Tchort caught up with her just as she fell, after running a hundred feetor more, and gave us to understand that he was the responsible party. Wetried immediately to capture the cub, which would have been a rareprize, but had no success at all in the thicket. The old one, though ofconsiderable age, was not a large specimen, and, with the exception ofthe head, the hair was in bad condition. Length about 6 feet 4 inches;height at shoulder 44 inches; weight 500 pounds. The stomach was full ofsalmon, gleaned from the fishing beds made all along the stream. TheOzinka people did not enjoy my killing a bear just outside the village. 

I caught the boat about a week later, after a few pleasant days withKidder and Blake, who had turned up at Wood Island, after a verysuccessful hunt on the mainland. 

A word in regard to the Kadiak bear. Dr. Merriam has proved that he isdistinct from other bear. That he ever reached 2, 000 pounds is doubtfulin my mind, but, by comparing measurements of skins, we can be sure hecomes up to 1, 200, or a little over. Whether the Kadiak bear is biggerthan the big brown bear of the mainland is doubtful. At present thegrowth of these bears is badly interfered with by the natives, and theyrarely reach the old bear age, when these brutes become massive in theirbony structure, and accumulate a vast amount of fat, just before denningup. 

_W. Lord Smith_. 

The Mountain Sheep and its Range

The mountain sheep is, in my estimation, the finest of all our Americanbig game. Many men have killed it and sheep heads are trophies almost ascommon as moose heads, and yet among those who have hunted it most andknow it best, but little is really understood as to the life of themountain sheep, and many erroneous ideas prevail with regard to it. Itis generally supposed to be an animal found only among the tops of theloftiest and most rugged mountains, and never to be seen on the lowerground, and there are still people interested in big game who now andthen ask one confidentially whether there really is anything in thestory that the sheep throw themselves down from great heights, and, striking on their horns, rebound to their feet without injury. 

Each one of us individually knows but little about the mountain sheep, yet each who has hunted them has observed something of their ways, andeach can contribute some share to an accumulation of facts which sometime may be of assistance to the naturalist who shall write the lifehistory of this noble species. But unless that naturalist has alreadybeen in the field and has there gathered much material, he is likely tobe hard put to it when the time comes for his story to be written, sincethen there may be no mountain sheep to observe or to write of. The sheepis not likely to be so happy in its biographer as was the buffalo, forDr. Allen's monograph on the American bison is a classic among NorthAmerican natural history works. 

The mountain sheep is an inhabitant of western America, and the bookstell us that it inhabits the Rocky Mountains from southern California toAlaska. This is sufficiently vague, and I shall endeavor a littlefurther on to indicate a few places where this species may still befound, though even so I am unable to assign their ranges to the variousforms that have been described. 

For this species seems to have become differentiated into severalspecies and sub-species, some of which are well marked, and all of whichwe do not as yet know much about. These as described are the commonsheep of the Rocky Mountains _(Ovis canadensis_); the white sheepof Alaska _(Ovis dalli)_, and its near relative, _O. Dallikenaiensis_; the so-called black sheep of northern British Columbia(_O. Stonei_), described by Dr. Allen; Nelson's sheep of thesouthwest (_O. Nelsoni_) and _O. Mexicanus_, both described byDr. Merriam. Besides these, Mr. Hornaday has described _Ovisfannini_ of Yukon Territory, about which little is known, andDr. Merriam has given the sheep of the Missouri River bad landssub-specific rank under the title _O. C. Auduboni_. RecentlyDr. Elliot has described the Lower California sheep as a sub-species ofthe Rocky Mountain form under the name _O. C. Cremnobates_. Fortwenty-five years I heard of a black sheep-like animal in the centralrange of the Rocky Mountains far to the north, said to be not only blackin color, but with black horns, something like those of an antelope, butin shape and ringed like a female mountain sheep. From specimensrecently examined at the American Museum of Natural History, I now knowthis to be the young female of _Ovis stonei_. That several speciesof sheep should have been described within the last three or four yearsshows, perhaps as well as anything, how very little we know about theanimals of this group. 

The sheep of the Rocky Mountains and of the bad lands(_O. Canadensis_ and _O. Canadensis auduboni_) are those withwhich we are most familiar. Both forms are called the Rocky Mountainsheep, and from this it is commonly inferred that they are confined tothe mountains, and live solely among the rocks. In a measure this beliefis true today, but it was not invariably so in old times. As in Asia, so in America, the wild sheep is an inhabitant of the high grass landplateaus. It delights in the elevated prairies, but near these prairiesit must have rough or broken country to which it may retreat whenpursued by its enemies. Before the days of the railroad and thesettlements in the West, the sheep was often found on the prairie. Itwas then abundant in many localities where to-day farmers have theirwheat fields, and to some extent shared the feeding ground of theantelope and the buffalo. Many and many a time while riding over theprairie, I have seen among the antelope that loped carelessly out of theway of the wagon before which I was riding, a few sheep, which wouldfinally separate themselves from the antelope and run up to risingground, there to stand and call until we had come too near them, whenthey would lope off and finally be seen climbing some steep butte orbluff, and there pausing for a last look, would disappear. 

Those were the days when if a man had a deer, a sheep, an antelope, orthe bosse ribs of a buffalo cow on his pack or in his wagon, it did notoccur to him to shoot at the game among which he rode. I have seen sheepfeeding on the prairies with antelope, and in little groups bythemselves in North Dakota, Montana, and Wyoming, and men whoseexperience extends much further back than mine--men, too, whose life waslargely devoted to observing the wild animals among which theylived--unite in telling me that they were commonly found in suchsituations. Personally I never saw sheep among buffalo, but knowing as Ido the situations that both inhabited and the ways of life of each, I amconfident that sheep were often found with the buffalo, just as wereantelope. 

The country of northwestern Montana, where high prairie is broken nowand then by steep buttes rising to a height of several hundred feet, andby little ranges of volcanic uplifts like the Sweet Grass Hills, theBear Paw Mountains, the Little Rockies, the Judith, and many others, wasa favorite locality for sheep, and so, no doubt, was the butte countryof western North Dakota, South Dakota and Nebraska, this being roughlythe eastern limit of the species. In general it may be said that theplains sheep preferred plateaus much like those inhabited by the muledeer, a prairie country where there were rough broken hills or buttes, to which they could retreat when disturbed. That this habit was takenadvantage of to destroy them will be shown further on. 

To-day, if one can climb above timber line in summer to the beautifulgreen alpine meadows just below the frowning snow-clad peaks in regionswhere sheep may still be found, his eye may yet be gladdened by thesight of a little group resting on the soft grass far from any coverthat might shelter an enemy. If disturbed, the sheep get updeliberately, take a long careful look, and walking slowly toward therocks, clamber out of harm's way. It will be labor wasted to followthem. 

Such sights may be witnessed still in portions of Montana and BritishColumbia, Idaho, Wyoming and Colorado, where bald, rolling mountains, showing little or no rock, are frequented by the sheep, which graze overthe uplands, descending at midday to the valleys to drink, and thenslowly working their way up the hills again to their illimitablepastures. 

Of Dall's sheep, the white Alaskan form, we are told that its favoritefeeding grounds are bald hills and elevated plateaus, and although whenpursued and wounded it takes to precipitous cliffs, and perhaps even totall mountain peaks, the land of its choice appears to be not roughrocks, but rather the level or rolling upland. 

The sheep formerly was a gentle, unsuspicious animal, curious andconfiding rather than shy; now it is noted in many regions for itsalertness, wariness, and ability to take care of itself. 

Richardson, in his "Fauni-Boreali Americana, " says: "Mr. Drummondinforms me that in the retired part of the mountains, where hunters hadseldom penetrated, he found no difficulty in approaching the RockyMountain sheep, which there exhibited the simplicity of character soremarkable in the domestic species; but that where they had been oftenfired at they were exceedingly wild, alarmed their companions on theapproach of danger by a hissing noise, and scaled the rocks with a speedand agility that baffled pursuit. " The mountain men of early days tellprecisely the same thing of the sheep. Fifty or sixty years ago theywere regarded as the gentlest and most unsuspicious animal of all theprairie, excepting, of course, the buffalo. They did not understand thatthe sound of a gun meant danger, and, when shot at, often merely jumpedabout and stared, acting much as in later times the elk and the muledeer acted. 

We may take it for granted that, before the coming of the white man, themountain sheep ranged over a very large portion of western America, fromthe Arctic Ocean down into Mexico. Wherever the country was adapted tothem, there they were found. Absence of suitable food, and sometimes thepresence of animals not agreeable to them, may have left certain areaswithout the sheep, but for the most part these animals no doubt existedfrom the eastern limit of their range clear to the Pacific. There weresheep on the plains and in the mountains; those inhabiting the plainswhen alarmed sought shelter in the rough bad lands that border so manyrivers, or on the tall buttes that rise from the prairies, or in thesmall volcanic uplifts which, in the north, stretch far out eastwardfrom the Rocky Mountains. 

While some hunters believe that the wild sheep were driven from theirformer habitat on the plains and in the foothills by the advent ofcivilized man, the opinion of the best naturalists is the reverse ofthis. They believe that over the whole plains country, except in a fewlocalities where they still remain, the sheep have been exterminated, and this is probably what has happened. Thus Dr. C. Hart Merriam writesme:

"I do not believe that the plains sheep have been driven to themountains at all, but that they have been exterminated over the greaterpart of their former range. In other words, that the form or sub-speciesinhabiting the plains (_auduboni_) is now extinct over the greaterpart of its range, occurring only in the localities mentioned by you. The sheep of the mountains always lived there, and, in my opinion, hasreceived no accession from the plains. In other words, to my mind it isnot a case of changed habit, but a case of extermination over largeareas. The same I believe to be true in the case of elk and many otheranimals. "

That this is true of the elk--and within my own recollection--iscertainly the fact. In the early days of my western travel, elk werereasonably abundant over the whole plains as far east as within 120miles of the city of Omaha on the Missouri River, north to the Canadianboundary line--and far beyond--and south at least to the IndianTerritory. From all this great area as far west as the Rocky Mountainsthey have disappeared, not by any emigration to other localities, but byabsolute extermination. 

A few years ago we knew but one species of mountain sheep, the commonbighorn of the West, but with the opening of new territories and theirinvasion by white men, more and more specimens of the bighorn have comeinto the hands of naturalists, with the result that a number of newforms have been described covering territory from Alaska to Mexico. Theseforms, with the localities from which the types have come, are as follows:

_Ovis canadensis_, interior of western Canada. (Mountains of Alberta. )

_Ovis canadensis auduboni_, Bad Lands of South Dakota. (Between the White and Cheyenne rivers. )

_Ovis nelsoni_, Grapevine Mountains, boundary between California and Nevada. (Just south of Lat. 37 deg. )

_Ovis mexicanus_, Lake Santa Maria, Chihuahua, Mexico. 

_Ovis stonei_, headwaters Stikine River(Che-o-nee Mountains), British Columbia. 

_Ovis dalli_, mountains on Forty-Mile Creek, west of Yukon River, Alaska. 

_Ovis dalli kenaiensis_, Kenai Peninsula, Alaska (1901). 

_Ovis canadensis cremnobates_, Lower California. 

The standing of _Ovis fannini_ has been in doubt ever since itsdescription, and recent specimens appear to throw still more doubt onit. Those most familiar with our sheep do not now, I believe, acknowledge it as a valid species. It comes from the mountains of theKlondike River, near Dawson, Yukon Territory. 

What the relations of these different forms are to one another has notyet been determined, but it may be conjectured that _Ovis canadensis, O. Nelsoni_, and _O. Dalli_ differ most widely from one another;while _O. Stonei_ and _O. Dalli_, with its forms, are closetogether; and _O. Canadensis_, and _O. C. Auduboni_ are closelyrelated; as are also _O. Nelsoni, O. Mexicanus_, and _O. C. Cremnobates_. The sub-species _auduboni_ is the easternmostmember of the American sheep family, while the sheep of Chihuahuaand of Lower California are the most southern now known. 

PRIMITIVE HUNTING. 

At many points in the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevadas the Indianswere formerly great sheep hunters, and largely depended on this game fortheir flesh food. That it was easily hunted in primitive times cannot bedoubted, and is easily comprehended when we remember the testimony ofwhite observers already quoted. In certain places in the foothills ofthe mountains, or in more or less isolated ranges in Utah, Nevada, Montana, and other sections, the Indians used to beat the mountains, driving the sheep up to the summits, where concealed bowmen might killthem. On the summits of certain ranges which formerly were great resortsfor sheep, I have found hiding places built of slabs of the trachytewhich forms the mountain, which were used by the Indians for thispurpose in part, as, later, they were also used by the scouting warrioras shelters and lookout stations from which a wide extent of plain mightbe viewed. The sheep on the prairie or on the foothills of such ranges, if alarmed, would of course climb to the summit, and there would be shotwith stone-headed arrows. 

Mr. Muir has seen such shelters in Nevada, and he tells us also that theIndians used to build corrals or pounds with diverging wings, somewhatlike those used for the capture of antelope and buffalo on the plains, and that they drove the sheep into these corrals, about which, no doubt, men, women, and children were secreted, ready to destroy the game. 

Certain tribes made a practice of building converging fences and drivingthe sheep toward the angle of these fences, where hunters lay in wait tokill them, as elsewhere mentioned by Mr. Hofer. In fact, sheep in thoseold times shared with all the other animals of the prairie that tamenessto which I have often adverted in writing on this subject, and which nowseems so remarkable. 

The Bannocks and Sheep Eaters depended for their food very largely onsheep. In fact, the Sheep Eaters are reported to have killed littleelse, whence their name. Both these tribes hunted more or less indisguise, and wore on the head and shoulders the skin and horns of amountain sheep's head, the skin often being drawn about the body, andthe position assumed a stooping one, so as to simulate the animal with aconsiderable closeness. The legs, which were uncovered, were commonlyrubbed with white or gray clay, and certain precautions were used tokill the human odor. 

A Cheyenne Indian told me of an interesting happening witnessed by hisgrandfather very many years ago. A war party had set out to take horsesfrom the Shoshone. One morning just at sunrise the fifteen or sixteenmen were traveling along on foot in single file through a deep canon ofthe mountains, when one of them spied on a ledge far above them the headand shoulders of a great mountain sheep which seemed to be looking overthe valley. He pointed it out to his fellows, and as they walked alongthey watched it. Presently it drew back, and a little later appearedagain further along the ledges, and stood there on the verge. As theIndians watched, they suddenly saw shoot out from another ledge abovethe sheep a mountain lion, which alighted on the sheep's neck, and bothanimals fell whirling over the cliff and struck the slide rockbelow. The fall was a long one, and the Cheyennes, feeling sure that thesheep had been killed, either by the fall or by the lion, rushed forwardto secure the meat. When they reached the spot the lion was hobbling offwith a broken leg, and one of them shot it with his arrow, and when theymade ready to skin the sheep, they saw to their astonishment that it wasnot a sheep, but a man wearing the skin and horns of a sheep. He hadbeen hunting, and his bow and arrows were wrapped in the skin close tohis breast. The fall had killed him. From the fashion of his hair andhis moccasins they knew that he was a Bannock. 

A reference to the hunting methods of the Sheep Eaters reminds one verynaturally of that pursued by the Blackfeet, when sheep were needed, fortheir skins or for their flesh. These animals were abundant about themany buttes which rise out of the prairie on the flanks of the RockyMountains, in what is now Montana, and when disturbed retreated to theheights for safety. 

Hugh Monroe, a typical mountain man of the old time, who reached FortEdmonton in the year 1813, and died in 1893, after eighty years spentupon the prairie in close association with the Indians, has often toldme of the Blackfoot method of securing sheep when their skins wereneeded for women's dresses. On such an occasion a large number of themen would ride out from the camp to the neighborhood of one of thesebuttes, and on their approach the sheep, which had been feeding on theprairie, slowly retreated to the heights above. The Indians then spreadout, encircling the butte by a wide ring of horsemen, and sending threeor four young men to climb its heights, awaited results. When the mensent up on the butte had reached its summit, they pursued the sheep overits limited area, and drove them down to the prairie below, where themounted men chased and killed them. In this way large numbers of sheepwere procured. 

Of the hunting of the sheep by the Indians who inhabited the roughmountains in and near what is now the Yellowstone National Park, Mr. Hofer has said to me:

"It is supposed that when the Sheep Eater Indians inhabited themountains about the Park they kept the sheep down pretty close, butafter they went away the sheep increased in that particular range ofcountry, the whole Absaroka range; that is to say, the country fromClark Fork of the Yellowstone down to the Wind River drainage. 

"The greatest number of sheep in recent years was pretty well toward thehead of Gray Bull, Meeteetsee Creek and Stinking Water. In those oldtimes the Indians used to build rude fences on the sides of themountains, running down a hill, and these fences would draw togethertoward the bottom, and where they came nearly together the Indians wouldhave a place to hide in. Fifteen years ago there was one such trap thatwas still quite plainly visible. One fence follows down pretty near theedge of a little ridge, draining steeply down from Crandle Creek divideto Miller Creek. There was no pen at the bottom, and no cliff to runthem off, so that the Indians could not have killed them in that way, but near where the fences came together there was a pile of dead limbsand small rocks that looked to me as if it had been used by a personlying in wait to shoot animals which were driven down this ridge; and itwas near enough to the place that they must pass to shoot them witharrows. These Indians had arrows, and hunted with them; and up on top ofthe ridges you will find old stumps that have been hacked down withstone hatchets. Some of the tree trunks have been removed, but othershave been left there. I think that some Indians would go around thesheep and start them off, and gradually drive them to the pass where thehunter lay. I remember following along this ridge, and then on anotherridge that went on toward the Clark Fork ridge to quite a high littlepeak, and on top of this peak was quite a large bed for a man to liein. He could watch there until the sheep should pass through, and thenhe could come out and drive them on. "

AGENTS OF DESTRUCTION. 

The settling up of much of their former range, with pursuit byskin-hunters, head-hunters, and meat-hunters, has had much to do withthe reduction in numbers of the mountain sheep, but more important thanthese have been the ravages by diseases brought in to their range by thedomestic sheep, and then spread by the wild species among their wildassociates. For many years it has been known that the wild sheep ofcertain portions of the Rocky Mountain region are afflicted with scab, adisease which in recent years seems to have attacked the elk aswell. Testimony is abundant that wild sheep are killed by scab asdomestic sheep are. On a few occasions I have seen animals that appearedto have died from this cause, but Mr. Hofer, to be quoted later, has hada much broader experience. 

More sweeping and even more fatal has been the introduction among thewild sheep of an anthrax, of which, however, very little is known. 

Aside from man, the most important enemies of the sheep in nature arethe mountain lion and eagles of two species. These last I believe to beso destructive to newly born sheep and goats that I think it a duty tokill them whenever possible. 

Dr. Edward L. Munson, at that time Assistant Surgeon, U. S. Army, butwhose services in more recent years have won him so much credit, andsuch well deserved promotion, wrote me in 1897 the following interestingparagraphs with relation to disease among sheep. He said:

"The Bear Paw Mountains were full of mountain sheep a dozen yearsago. One was roped last summer, and this is the only representativewhich has been seen or heard of there in ten years. The introduction oftame sheep early in the '80's was followed by a most destructiveanthrax, which not only destroyed immense numbers of tame sheep, butalso exterminated the wild ones, which appeared to be especiallysusceptible to this disease. In going through these mountains one oftenfinds the skeletons of a number huddled together, and the above is theexplanation given by some of the older settlers. The mountains aresmall, and the wild sheep could not climb up out of the infectedzone. Immediate contact is, of course, not necessary in the propagationof anthrax, and the bacilli and spores left on soil grazed over by aninfected band would readily infect another animal feeding over such acountry even a long time afterward. 

"I have also heard that the introduction of dog distemper played havocwith wolves, coyotes, and Indian dogs, when it first came into thecountry. This is the case with regard to any disease introduced into avirgin human population, in which there is no immunity due to theprevalence of such a disease for hundreds of years previously. "

Mr. Elwood Hofer, discussing this subject in conversation, says:

"There are not a great many sheep in the Park now, anywhere; they havedied off from sickness--the scab. This is a fact known to everyoneliving in the neighborhood of the Park. I have killed only one that hadthe disease badly, but I used to see them every day, and pay noattention to them. I did not hunt for them, for I did not want them inthat condition. I remember that once a man came out to Gardiner who didnot know that the sheep were sick. He saw some when he was hunting, andrushed up in great excitement and killed three of them. They seemed tobe weak and were pretty nearly dead with scab before he saw them. Sometimes they become so weak from this disease that they lie down anddie. 

"I first noticed sheep with the scab around the canyon by theYellowstone. I never saw any troubled with this disease aroundMeeteetsee or Stinking Water. I have been there in winter, and huntedthem as late as November, and Col. Pickett used to kill some stilllater. I never heard him speak of the scab. "

In spring and early summer, when the young sheep are small, the eaglesare constantly on the watch for them, and unquestionably capture manylambs. I have been told by my friend, Mr. J. B. Monroe, who has severaltimes captured lambs alive, that when they heard the rope whistling ashe threw it toward them, they would run directly toward him, seeming tofear some enemy from above. He believes that they took the sound of therope flying through the air for the sound of the eagle's wings. 

While, of course, the mountain lions cannot overtake the sheep in fairchase, they lie in wait for them among the rocks, killing many, becausethe sheep range on ground suitable for the lions to stalk them on; thatis to say, among the rocks on steep mountain sides, or at the edges ofcanyons. 

A conversation had with Mr. Hofer a year or two since is so interestingthat I offer no apology for giving the gist of it here. It has to dowith the enemies of the sheep, especially the mountain lion, and withsome of the sheep's ways. In substance, Mr. Hofer said:

"One day about the first of January I was in my cabin looking throughthe window, and up through the Cinnabar Basin, over the snow-coveredmountains. As I was looking, I saw a dark patch disappear in the snowand then rise out of it again. The snow was deep and fluffy. The animalthat I was watching would disappear in the snow with a plunge, and thenwould come up with a jump. It made several wonderful flights. It was sofar off I could not tell what it was, and when I looked at it throughthe glasses I saw that it was a big ram breaking a trail. I was watchinghim closely and at first did not notice that others were with him. Soon, however, I discovered that there were four or five other sheep followinghim. 

"The big ram came down from the side of the mountain, and, to pass overto the other mountain, he had to cross the valley. There were a numberof knolls or ridges in this valley, where the snow was not so deep as inthe hollows. The ram broke a trail to a knoll, and stopped and lookedback, and pretty soon I saw the rest of the sheep coming along. Theyfollowed his trail and passed him while he was standing there lookingback, always looking up at the mountain. While he stood on this knollwhere the snow was not deep--for it had blown off--and the other sheephad passed him, one of them took the lead to the next knoll, breakingthe trail, but here the snow was not so deep as that the ram had comethrough. No sooner had the sheep got to this knoll than the old ramstarted. He took the trail the others had made, and joined them at thenext knoll, and then plunging in, went on ahead and broke a fresh trailto the next rise of ground. The ram did most of the trail-breaking, butsometimes one of the others went ahead; there was always one in therear, on guard, as it were, until they had crossed the valley to a steepridge on the next mountain. As they went, they stopped every littlewhile and stood for some time looking back. 

"Knowing the habits of the animal, I felt sure that something had driventhem off the mountain. They looked back as if to see whether anythingwas following, or perhaps to look again at what had frightened them. Ithought it was a mountain lion. Soon afterward I took my snowshoes andwent up that way and found the track of a mountain lion. From the sizeof the track it seemed as if the animal must have been enormous. Onsoft snow, though, tracks spread and look big, and besides that, thesecats commonly spread out their toes. There was no mistake about itsbeing a mountain lion, for I could see where the tail had struck thesoft snow and made holes in it. 

"Mountain lions were around there a good deal, and E. De Long, who had acabin a little further up in the valley, told me that three times in hisexperience of hunting up there he had come on a place where a mountainlion had just killed a sheep. In each case he found the sheep in nearlythe same place, and in each case the sheep was freshly killed, and hedressed it and took it home. 

"This seemed to be a favorite place for the lions to kill sheep. Theyare great hands to kill sheep in about the same place. Far up on theBoulder--way up near the head--Col. Pickett and I found nineteen ortwenty skulls of sheep by one rock. There was a wonderful lot ofthem. They had been killed at various times, and in a place where theynever could have been killed by snowslides. It was under a very highrock, fifteen feet perpendicular on one side, and in the valley a gametrail passed close under this side. On the other side the rock was notso high, but sloped off to the side of the hill. A lion could easily liethere without being seen, but could himself see both ways. The gametrail was so close that he could jump right down on to it. The number ofskulls that we saw here was so remarkable that Col. Pickett and Icounted them; there were more than eighteen. 

"The skulls were most of them old--killed a good while before. None ofthem had the shells of the horns. They were old skulls, and the oldestwere almost in fragments, very much weathered. It was the accumulationof a number of years, probably ten or fifteen. To my mind it showedclearly that this was a favorite place for lions to lie for mountainsheep. I have known of something similar to that in Cinnabar Basin, where I have seen a number of skulls scattered along the gulch. Therewas a heavy trail there which led up to a valley where there is a passby which we used to wind down to the Yellowstone and Tom Miner Creek andTrapper Creek. 

"Lions are quite bad along the Yellowstone here, and sometimes in a hardwinter they seem to be driven out of the mountains, and a considerablenumber have been killed on Gardiner River and Reese Creek. 

"If mountain lions are after the sheep, the sheep leave the mountainthey are on and go to another; they will not stay there, and will notreturn until something drives them back. "

SOME WAYS OF THE SHEEP. 

Mr. Hofer said:

"In old times it was sometimes possible to get a 'stand' on sheep, and, in my opinion, sheep often, even to-day, are the least suspicious of allthe mountain animals. A mountain sheep always seems to fear the thingthat he sees under him. If a man goes above him he does not seem to knowwhat to do. I could never understand why, when one is above him, hestands and looks. I have sometimes been riding around in the mountains, and have come on sheep right below me. I have often thrown stones atthem, and sometimes it was quite a while before I could get them tostart. Finally, however, they would run off. They acted as if they weredazed. 

"On the other hand, when I carried the mail down in San Juan county, Colorado, in the winter of 1875-'76, going across from Animas Forks byway of the Grizzly Pass to Tellurium Fork, I was the only person in thatsection of the country all through the winter, and yet, although thesheep saw only me, and saw me every day, they always actedwild. Sometimes a ram would see me and stand and look for a long time, and then presently all along the mountain side I would see sheep runningas if they were alarmed. On the other hand, if I met any of them on topof the mountain, they scarcely ever ran, they just stood and looked atme. 

"Once, when on a hunting trip, I had my horses all picketed in sight, just above the basin where we were camped. The boy that had the care ofthe horses had been up to change the picketed animals, and when he camein he said: 'There's a sheep up there close by the horses. He saw me andwas not afraid. ' We went out of the tent and presently I could see thesheep, a small one about four years old. We went up toward it, and I sawthe sheep moving about. It went out to a little flat place on the sliderock, where the slide rock had pushed out a little further, making alittle low butte, or flat-topped table; it was loose rock, withsnow. Here the sheep lay down. 

"I went around to station my man where he could get a rest for hisrifle, and when I had done this, I went around above to make the sheepget up to drive him out, so that the man could shoot him. After I gotwell up the gulch, above him, the sheep could see me plainly, and Icould see his eyes. I hesitated about making him get up, thinkingperhaps it was somebody's tame sheep, but we were the first ones upthere that spring, and of course it was not a tame sheep. If we had notbeen out of meat I would not have disturbed the animal. I walked towardit to make it get up, but it would not, and still lay there. When I waswithin thirty feet of it I took up a stone and threw it, and called athim. The sheep stood up and looked at me. I said, 'Go on, now, ' and hestarted in the direction I wished him to take. When he came in sight, the man fired two or three shots at him, but did not hurt him, and thesheep again lay down in sight of camp. Afterward I fired at him about300 yards up the side of the mountain, but I did not touch him. However, he was disturbed by the shooting, and moved away. 

"It is often difficult to find a reason for the way sheep act. It ispossible that this young ram, which was in the Sunlight Mining District, had seen many miners, and that they had not disturbed him, and that sohe had lost his fear of man. He was not at all afraid of horses, perhapsbecause he was accustomed to seeing miners' horses; or he may have takenthem for elk. I do not see why our wind did not alarm him. At allevents, for some reason, this one showed no fear. 

"Along the Gardiner River, inside the northern boundary of theYellowstone Park, there are always a number of sheep in winter, and theybecome very tame, having learned by experience that people passing toand fro will not injure them. Men driving up the road from Mammoth HotSprings to Gardiner, constantly see these sheep, which manifest theutmost indifference to those who are passing them. Sometimes they standclose enough to the road for a driver to reach them with his whip. Onewinter the surgeon at the post, driving along, came upon a sheepstanding in the road, and as it did not move, he had to stop his teamfor it. He did not dare to drive his horse close up to it. Finally theram jumped out to one side of the road, and the surgeon drove on. Hesaid he could have touched it with his whip. "

One winter when Mr. Hofer made an extended snowshoe trip through thePark, he passed very close to sheep. It appeared to him that they fearman less along the wagon roads than when he is out on the benches and inthe mountains. They seem to care little for man, but if a mountain lionappears in the neighborhood, the sheep are no longer seen. Just wherethey go is uncertain, but it is believed that they cross the YellowstoneRiver by swimming. 

In winter, and especially late in the winter, sheep frequent southernand southwestern exposures, and spend much of their time there. I haveseen places on the St. Marys Lake, in northern Montana, where there werecartloads of droppings, apparently the accumulation of many years, andhave seen the same thing in the cliffs along the Yellowstone River. Onthe rocks here there were many beds among the cliffs and ledges. Oftensuch beds are behind a rock, not a high one, but one that the sheepcould look over. In places such as this the animals are very difficultto detect. 

Although the wild sheep was formerly, to a considerable extent, aninhabitant of the western edge of the prairies of the high dry plains, it is so no longer. The settling of the country has made thisimpossible, but long before its permanent occupancy the frequent passagethrough it by hunters had resulted in the destruction of the sheep orhad driven it more or less permanently to those heights where, in timesof danger, it had always sought refuge. 

To the east of the principal range of the wild sheep in America to-daythere are still a few of its old haunts not in the mountains which areso arid or so rough, or where the water is so bad that as yet they havenot to any great extent been invaded by the white man. Again to thesouth and southwest, in portions of Arizona, Old Mexico, and LowerCalifornia, there rise out of frightful deserts buttes and mountainranges inhabited by different forms of sheep. In that country water isextremely scarce, and the few water holes that exist are visited by thesheep only at long intervals. There are many men who believe that thesheep do not drink at all, but it is chiefly at these water holes thatthe sheep of the desert are killed. 

At the present day the chief haunts of the mountain sheep are the freshAlpine meadows lying close to timber line, and fenced in by tall peaks;or the rounded grassy slopes which extend from timber line up to theregion of perpetual snows. Sitting on the point of some tall mountainthe observer may look down on the green meadows, interspersed perhapswith little clumps of low willows which grow along the tiny watercourseswhose sources are the snow banks far up the mountain side, and ifpatient in his watch and faithful in his search, he may detect with hisglasses at first one or two, and gradually more and more, until atlength perhaps ten, fifteen or thirty sheep may be counted, scatteredover a considerable area of country. Or, if he climbs higher yet, andoverlooks the rounded shoulders which stretch up from the passes towardthe highest pinnacles of all--he will very likely see far below him, lying on the hill and commanding a view miles in extent in everydirection, a group of nine, ten or a dozen sheep peacefully resting inthe midday sun. Those that he sees will be almost all of them ewes andyoung animals. Perhaps there may be a young ram or two whose horns havealready begun to curve backward, but for the most part they are femalesand young. 

The question that the hunter is always asking himself is where are thebig rams? Now and then, to be sure, more by accident than by any wisdomof his own, he stumbles on some monster of the rocks, but of the sheepthat he sees in his wanderings, not one in a hundred has a head so largeas to make him consider it a trophy worth possessing. It is commonlydeclared that in summer the big rams are "back along the range, " bywhich it is meant that they are close to the summits of the tallestpeaks. It is probable that this is true, and that they gather by twosand threes on these tall peaks, and, not moving about very much, escapeobservation. 

During the spring, summer, and early fall the females and their youngkeep together in small bands in the mountains, well up, close under whatis called the "rim rock, " or the "reefs, " where the grass is sweet andtender, the going good, and where a refuge is within easy reach. Whilehunting in such places in September and October, when the first snowsare falling, one is likely to find the trail of a band of sheep close upbeneath the rock. If the mountain is one long inhabited by sheep, theyhave made a well-worn trail on the hillside, and the little band, whiletraveling along this in a general way, scatters out on both sidesfeeding on the grass heads that project above the snow, and often withtheir noses pushing the light snow away to get at the grass beneath. Ihave never seen them do this, nor have I seen them paw to get at thegrass, but the marks in the snow where they have fed showed clearly thatthe snow was pushed aside by the muzzle. 

Like most other animals, wild and tame, sheep are very local in theirhabits, and one little band will occupy the same basin in the mountainsall summer long, going to water by the same trail, feeding in the samemeadows and along the same hillsides, occupying the same beds stampedout in the rough slide rock, or on the great rock masses which havefallen down from the cliff above. Even if frightened from their chosenhome by the passage of a party of travelers, they will go no furtherthan to the tops of the rocks, and as soon as the cause of alarm isremoved will return once more to the valley. 

I saw a striking instance of this some years ago, when, with aGeological Survey party, I visited a little basin on the head of one ofthe forks of Stinking Water in Wyoming, where a few families of sheephad their home. 

Our appearance alarmed the sheep, which ran a little way up the face ofthe cliff, and then, stopping occasionally to look, clambered along moredeliberately. When we reached the head of the basin we found that therewas no way down on the other side, and that we must go back as we hadcome. The afternoon was well advanced and the pack train started backand camped only a mile or two down the valley, while I stopped amongsome great rocks to watch the movements of the sheep. Though at firstnot easy to see, the animals' presence was evident by their calling, andat length several were detected almost at the top of the cliff, butalready making their way back into the valley. 

I was much interested in watching a ewe, which was coming down a steepslope of slide rock. There was apparently no trail, or if there wasone, she did not use it, but picked her way down to the head of theslope of slide rock, stood there for a few moments, and then, afterbleating once or twice, sprang well out into the air and alighted on theslide rock, it seemed to me, twenty-five feet below where she hadbeen. A little cloud of dust arose and she appeared to be buried to herknees in the slide rock. I could not see how it was possible for her tohave made this jump without breaking her slender legs, yet she repeatedit again and again, until she had come down about to my level and hadpassed out of sight. Nor was this ewe the only one that was comingdown. From a number of points on the precipice round about I could hearrocks rolling and sheep calling, and before very long eight or ten ewesand four or five lambs had come together in the little basin, andpresently marched almost straight up to where I lay hid. There was meatin the camp, and so no reason for shooting at these innocents. Laterwhen I returned to camp, one of the packers informed me that for an houror two before a yearling ram had been feeding in the meadow with thepack animals, close to the camp. 

The sheep now commonly shows himself to be the keenest and wariest ofNorth American big game. Yet we may readily credit the stories told usby older men of his former simplicity and innocence, since even to-daywe sometimes see these characteristics displayed. I remember riding up anarrow valley walled in on both sides by vertical cliffs and at its headby a rock wall which was partly broken down, and through which we hopedto find a way into the next valley to the northward. As we rode along, a mile or more from the cliff at the valley's head, I saw one or twosheep passing over it, and a few minutes later was electrified byhearing my companion say: "Oh, look at the sheep! Look at the sheep!Look at the sheep!" And there, charging down the valley directly towardus, came a bunch of thirty or forty sheep in a close body, running as ifsomething very terrifying were close behind them, and paying not theslightest attention to the two horsemen before them. I rolled off myhorse and loaded my gun. The sheep came within twenty-five or thirtysteps and a little to one side, and passed us like the wind, but theyleft behind one of their number, which kept us in fresh meat for severaldays thereafter. 

The first shot I fired at this band gave me a surprise. I drew my sightfine on the point of the breast of the leading animal and pulled thetrigger, but instead of the explosion which should have followed I heardthe hammer fall on the firing-pin. There was a slow hissing sound, alittle puff at the muzzle of the rifle, and I distinctly heard theleaden ball fall to the ground just in front of me. In a moment I hadreloaded and had killed the sheep before it had passed far beyond me;but for a few seconds I could not comprehend what had happened. Then itcame back to me that a few days before I had made from half a dozencartridges a weight to attach to a fish line for the purpose of soundingthe depth of a lake. Evidently a lubricating wad had been imperfect, and dampness had reached the powder. 

Like others of our ungulates, wild sheep are great frequenters of"licks"--places where the soil has been more or less impregnated withsaline solutions. These licks are visited frequently--perhapsdaily--during the summer months by sheep of all ages, and such pointsare favorite watching places for men who need meat, and wish to secureit as easily as possible. At a certain lick in northern Montana, shotsat sheep may be had almost any day by the man who is willing to watchfor them. In the summer of 1903 a bunch of nine especially good ramsvisited a certain lick each day. The guide of a New York man who washunting there in June--of course in violation of the law--took him tothe lick. The first day nine rams came, and the New Yorker, after firingmany shots, frightened them all away. Perhaps he hit some of them, forthe next day only seven returned, of which three were killed. In BritishColumbia I have seen twenty-five or thirty sheep working at a lick, fromwhich the earth had been eaten away, so that great hollows and ravineswere cut out in many directions from the central spring. 

Examination of such licks in cold--freezing--weather, seems to show thatthe sheep do not then visit them. I have seen mule deer and sheepnibbling the soil in company, and have seen white goats visit a lickfrequented also by sheep. 

Of Dall's sheep, Mr. Stone declares that it is rapidly growing scarcer, and this statement is based not only on his own observation, but onreports made to him by the Indians. Mr. Stone describes it as possessingwonderful agility, endurance, and vitality, and gives many examples oftheir ability to get about among most difficult rocks when wounded. Headds: "From my experience with these animals, I believe they seek quiteas rugged a country in which to make their homes as does the RockyMountain goat. They brave higher latitudes and live in regions in everyway more barren and forbidding. " He reports the females with their lambsas generally keeping to the high table lands far back in themountains. Among the specimens which he recently collected, broken jawbones reunited were so frequent among the females killed as to excitecomment. Notwithstanding Mr. Stone's gloomy view of the future of thisspecies, we may hope that the enforcement of the game laws in Alaskawill long preserve this beautiful animal. 

Our knowledge of the habits of the Lower California sheep inhabiting theSan Pedro Martir Mountains has been slight. Mr. Gould's admirableaccount of a hunting trip for them--"To the Gulf of Cortez, " publishedin a preceding volume of the Club's book--will be remembered, and thecurious fact stated by his Indian guide that the sheep break holes inthe hard, prickly rinds of the venaga cactus with their horns, and theneat out the inside. 

Recently, however, a series of thirteen specimens collected by EdmundHeller were received by Dr. D. G. Elliot, and described, as alreadystated, and he gives from Mr. Heller's note-book the following notes ontheir habits:

"Common about the cliffs, coming down occasionally to the water holes inthe valley. Most of the sheep observed were either solitary or in smallbands of three to a dozen. Only one adult ram was seen, all the others, about thirty, being either ewes or lambs. The largest bunch seenconsisted of eleven, mostly ewes and a few young rams. " The sheep, as arule, inhabit the middle line of cliffs where they are safe from attackabove and can watch the valley below for danger. Here about the middleline of cliffs they were observed, and the greater number of tracks anddust wallows, where they spend much of their time, were seen. A few wereseen on the level stretches of the mesas, and a considerable number oftracks, but these were made by those traveling from one line of cliffsto another. 

"They are constantly on guard, and very little of their time is given tobrowsing. Their usual method is to feed about some high cliffs or rocks, taking an occasional mouthful of brush, and then suddenly throwing upthe head and gazing and listening for a long time before again takingfood. They are not alarmed by scent, like deer or antelope, thedirection of the wind apparently making no difference in hunting them. Asmall bunch of six were observed for a considerable time feeding. Theirmethod seemed to be much the same as individuals, except that whendanger was suspected by any member, he would give a few quick leaps, andall the flock would scamper to some high rock and face about in variousdirections, no two looking the same way. These maneuvers were oftenperformed, perhaps once every fifteen minutes. 

"Their chief enemy is the mountain lion, which hunts them on the cliffs, apparently never about watering places. Lion tracks were not rare aboutthe sheep runs. They are extremely wary about coming down for water, andtake every precaution. Before leaving the cliffs to cross the valley towater they usually select some high ridge and descend along this, gazingconstantly at the spring, usually halting ten or more minutes on everyprominent rocky point. When within a hundred yards or less of the water, a long careful search is made, and a great deal of ear-work performed, the head being turned first to one side and then to the other. When theydo at last satisfy themselves, they make a bolt and drink quickly, stopping occasionally to listen and look for danger. 

"If, however, they should be surprised at the water they do not flee atonce, but gaze for some time at the intruder, and then go a short wayand take another look, and so on until at last they break into a steadyrun for the cliffs. At least thirty sheep were observed at the water, and none came before 9:30 A. M. Or later than 2:30 P. M. , most coming downbetween 12:00 M. And 1:00 P. M. This habit has probably been establishedto avoid lions, which are seldom about during the hottest part of theday. A few ewes were seen with two lambs, but the greater number hadonly one. Most of the young appeared about two months old. Their usualgait was a short gallop, seldom a walk or trot. "

The great curving horns of the wild sheep have always exercised more orless influence on people's imagination, and have given rise to variousfables. These horns are large in proportion to the animal, and sopeculiar that it has seemed necessary to account for them on the theorythat they had some marvelous purpose. The familiar tale that the hornsof the males were used as cushions on which the animal alighted whenleaping down from great heights is old. A more modern hypothesis whichpromises to be much shorter lived is that advanced a year or two ago byMr. Geo. Wherry, of Cambridge, England, who suggested that "The form ofthe horn and position of the ear enables the wild sheep to determine thedirection of sound when there is a mist or fog, the horn acting like anadmiralty megaphone when used as an ear trumpet, or like the topophone(double ear trumpet, the bells of which turn opposite ways) used for afog-bound ship on British-American vessels to determine the direction ofsound signals. "

It is, of course, well understood, and, on the publication ofMr. Wherry's hypothesis, was at once suggested, that there are manyspecies of wild sheep, and that the spiral of the horn of each speciesis a different one. Moreover, within each species there are of coursedifferent ages, and the spiral may differ with age and also at the sameage to some extent with the individual. In some cases, the ear perhapslies at the apex of a cone formed by the horn, but in others it does notlie there. Moreover this hypothesis, like the other and older one, inwhich the horns were said to act as the jumping cushion, takes noaccount of the females and young, which in mists, fogs, and at othertimes, need protection quite as much as the adult males. The old maleswith large and perfect horns have to a large extent fulfilled thefunction of their lives--reproduction--and their place is shortly to betaken by younger animals growing up. Moreover they have reached the fullmeasure of strength and agility, and through years of experience havecome to a full knowledge of the many dangers to which their race isexposed. It would seem extraordinary that nature should have cared sowell for them, and should have left the more defenseless females andyoung unprotected from the dangers likely to come to them from enemieswhich may make sounds in a fog. 

The old males with large and perfect horns have come to their fullfighting powers, and do fight fiercely at certain seasons of theyear. And it is believed by many people that the great development ofhorns among the mountain sheep is merely a secondary sexual characteranalogous to the antlers of the deer or the spurs of the cock. 

Most people who have hunted sheep much will believe that this speciesdepends for its safety chiefly on its nose and its eyes. And if theobservations of hunters in general could be gathered and collated, theywould probably agree that the female sheep are rather quicker to noticedanger than the males, though both are quick enough. 

PROTECTION. 

It is gratifying to note that the rapid disappearance of the mountainsheep has made some impression on legislators in certain States where itis native. Some of these have laws absolutely forbidding the killing ofmountain sheep; and while in certain places in all of such States andTerritories this law is perhaps lightly regarded, and not generallyobserved, still, on the whole, its effect must be good, and we may hopethat gradually it will find general observance. The mountain sheep is sosuperb an animal that it should be a matter of pride with every Statewhich has a stock of sheep within its borders to preserve that stockmost scrupulously. It is said that in Colorado, where sheep have longbeen protected, they are noticeably increasing, and growing tamer. Ihave been told of one stock and mining camp, near Silver Plume, wherethere is a bunch of sheep absolutely protected by public sentiment, inwhich the miners, and in fact the whole community, take great pride anddelight. 

It is fitting that on the statute books the mountain sheep should havebetter protection than most species of our large game, since there is noother species now existing in any numbers which is more exposed todanger of extinction. Destroyed on its old ranges, it is found now onlyin the roughest mountains, the bad lands, and the desert, and it issufficiently desirable as a trophy to be ardently pursued whereverfound. 

Several States have been wise enough absolutely to protect sheep; theseare North Dakota, California, Arizona, Montana, Colorado (until 1907), Utah, New Mexico (until March 1, 1905), and Texas (until July, 1908). Three other States, South Dakota, Wyoming and Idaho, permit onemountain sheep to be killed by the hunter during the open season of eachyear. Oregon, which has a long season, from July 15 to November 1, putsno limit on the number to be killed, while in Nevada there appears to beno protection for the species. 

If these protective laws were enforced, sheep would increase, and oncemore become delightful objects of the landscape, as they have inportions of Colorado and in the National Park, where, as already stated, they are so tame during certain seasons of the year that they willhardly get out of the way. On the other hand, in many localities coveredby excellent laws, there are no means of enforcing them. Montana, whichperhaps has as many sheep as any State in the Union, does not, andperhaps cannot, enforce her law, the sheep living in sections distantfrom the localities where game wardens are found, and so difficult towatch. In some cases where forest rangers are appointed game wardens, they are without funds for the transportation of themselves andprisoners over the one hundred or two hundred miles between the place ofarrest and the nearest Justice of the Peace, and cannot themselves beexpected to pay these expenses. In the summer of 1903 sheep were killedin violation of law in the mountains of Montana, and also in the badlands of the Missouri River. 

On the other hand, in Colorado there are many places where the lawprotecting the sheep is absolutely observed. Public opinion supports thelaw, and those disposed to violate it dare not do so for fear of thelaw. Near Silver Plume, already mentioned, a drive to see the wild sheepcome down to water is one of the regular sights offered to visitors, andwhile there may be localities where sheep are killed in violation of thelaw in Colorado, it is certain that there are many where the law isrespected. 

There are still a few places where sheep may be found to-day, livingsomewhat as they used to live before the white men came into the westerncountry. Such places are the extremely rough bad lands of the MissouriRiver, between the Little Rocky Mountains and the mouth of Milk River, where, on account of the absence of water on the upper prairie and thesmall areas of the bottoms of the Missouri River, there are as yet fewsettlements. The bad lands are high and rough, scarcely to be traversedexcept by a man on foot, and in their fastnesses the sheep--protectedformally by State law, but actually by the rugged country--are stillholding their own. They come down to the river at night to water, andreturning spend the day feeding on the uplands of the prairie, andresting in beds pawed out of the dry earth of the washed bad lands, justas their ancestors did. 

In old times this country abounded in buffalo, elk, deer of two species, sheep, and antelope, and if set aside as a State park by Montana, itwould offer an admirable game refuge, and one still stocked with all itsold-time animals, except the elk and the buffalo. 

 * * * * *

RANGE. 

The present range of the different forms of mountain sheep extends fromAlaska and from the Pacific Ocean east to the Rocky Mountains--with atongue extending down the Missouri River as far as the LittleMissouri--south to Sonora and Lower California. The various forms fromnorth to south appear to be Dall's sheep, the saddleback sheep, Stone'ssheep, the common bighorn, with the Missouri River variety, existing tothe east, in the bad lands, and with Nelson's, the Mexican and the LowerCalifornia sheep running southward into Mexico. 

Among the experienced hunters of both forms of Dall's sheep areMessrs. Dali DeWeese, of Colorado, and A. J. Stone, Collector of ArcticMammals for the American Museum of Natural History. Mr. Stone gives twodistinct ranges for this sheep, (1) the Alaska Mountains and KenaiPeninsula, and (2) the entire stretch of the Rocky Mountains north oflatitude 60 degrees to near the Arctic coast just at the McKenzie, reaching thence west to the headwaters of the Noatak and Kowak riversthat flow into Kotzebue Sound. 

Stone's sheep, which was described by Dr. Allen in 1897, came from thehead of the Stickine River, and two years after its description Dr. J. A. Allen quotes Mr. A. J. Stone, the collector, as saying: "I traced the_Ovis stonei_, or black sheep, throughout the mountainous countryof the headwaters of the Stickine, and south to the headwaters of theNass, but could find no reliable information of their occurrence furthersouth in this longitude. They are found throughout the CassiarMountains, which extend north to 61 degrees north latitude and west to134 degrees west longitude. How much further west they may be found Ihave been unable to determine. Nor could I ascertain whether their rangeextends from the Cassiar Mountains into the Rocky Mountains to the northof Francis and Liard River. But the best information obtained led me tobelieve that it does not. They are found in the Rocky Mountains to thesouth as far as the headwaters of the Nelson and Peace rivers inlatitude 56 degrees, but I proved conclusively that in the main range ofthe Rocky Mountains very few of them are found north of the LiardRiver. Where this river sweeps south through the Rocky Mountains toHell's Gate, a few of these animals are founds as far north as BeaverRiver, a tributary of the Liard. None, however, are found north of this, and I am thoroughly convinced that this is the only place where theseanimals may be found north of the Liard River. 

"I find that in the Cassiar Mountains and in the Rocky Mountains theyeverywhere range above timber line, as they do in the mountains ofStickine, the Cheonees, and the Etsezas. 

"Directly to the north of the Beaver River, and north of the Liard Riverbelow the confluence of the Beaver, we first meet with _Ovisdalli_. "

A Stony Indian once told me that in his country--the main range of theRocky Mountains--there were two sorts of sheep, one small, dark incolor, and with slender horns, which are seldom broken, and another sortlarger and pale in color, with heavy, thick horns that are often brokenat the point. He went on to say that these small black sheep are allfound north of Bow River, Alberta, and that on the south side of BowRiver the big sheep only occur. The country referred to all lies on theeastern slope of the Rocky Mountains. The hunting ground of the Stoniesruns as far north as Peace River, and it is hardly to be doubted thatthey know Stone's sheep. The Brewster Bros. , of Banff, Alberta, informme that Stone's sheep is found on the head of Peace River. 

A dozen or fifteen years ago one of the greatest sheep ranges that wasat all accessible was in the mountains at the head of the Ashnola River, in British Columbia, and on the head of the Methow, which rises in thesame mountains and flows south into Washington. This is a country veryrough and without roads, only to be traversed with a pack train. 

Mr. Lew Wilmot writes me that there are still quite a number of sheepranging from Mt. Chapacca, up through the Ashnola, and on theheadwaters of the Methow. Indeed, it is thought by some that sheep aremore numerous there now than they were a few years ago. In Dyche's"Campfires of a Naturalist" a record is given of sheep in the PalmerLake region, at the east base of the Cascade range in Washington. 

The Rev. John McDougall, of Morley, Alberta, wrote me in 1899, in answerto inquiries as to the mountain sheep inhabiting the country ranged overby the Stony Indians, "that it is the opinion of these Indians that thesheep which frequent the mountains from Montana northward as far as ourIndians hunt, are all of one kind, but that in localities they differ insize, and somewhat in color. 

"They say that from the 49th parallel to the headwaters of theSaskatchewan River, sheep are larger than those in the Selkirks andcoast ranges; and also that as they go north of the Saskatchewan thesheep become smaller. As to color, they say that the more southerly andwestern sheep are the lighter; and that as you pass north the sheep aredarker in color. These Stonies report mountain sheep as still to befound in all of the mountain country they roam in. Their hunting groundis about 400 miles long by 150 broad, and is principally confined to theRocky Mountain range. "

In an effort to establish something of the range of the mountain sheep, during the very last years of the nineteenth century, I communicatedwith a large number of gentlemen who were either resident in, ortravelers through, portions of the West now or formerly occupied by themountain sheep, and the results of these inquiries I give below:

Prof. L. V. Pirsson, of Yale University, who has spent a number of yearsin studying the geology of various portions of the northern RockyMountains, wrote me with considerable fullness in 1896 concerning thegame situation in some of the front ranges of the Rockies, where sheepwere formerly very abundant. In the Crazy Mountains he says he saw nosheep, and that while it was possible they might be there, they mustcertainly be rare. In 1880 there were many sheep there. In the CastleMountains none were seen, nor reported, nor any traces seen. The same istrue of the Little Belt, Highwood, and Judith Mountains. He understoodthat sheep were still present in the bad lands; immediately about themountains and east of them the country was too well settled for any gameto live. Earlier, however, in the summer of 1890, passing through theSnowy Mountains, which lie north of the National Park, sheep were seenon two occasions; a band of ten ewes and lambs on Sheep Mountain, and aband of seven rams on the head of the stream known as the Buffalo Forkof the Lamar River. In 1893 an old ram was killed on Black Butte, at theextreme eastern end of the Judith Mountains, near Cone Butte, and it isquite possible that this animal had strayed out of the bad lands on thelower Musselshell, or on the Missouri. Even at that time there were saidto be no sheep on the Little Rockies, Bearpaws, or Sweetgrass Hills. 

All the ranges spoken of were formerly great sheep ranges, and on all ofthem, many years ago, I saw sheep in considerable numbers. 

There are a very few sheep in the Wolf Mountains of Montana. 

There are still mountain sheep among the rough bad lands on both sidesof the Missouri River, between the mouth of the Musselshell and themouth of Big Dry. It is hard to estimate the number of these sheep, butthere must be many hundreds of them, and perhaps thousands. As recentlyas August, 1900, Mr. S. C. Leady, a ranchman in this region, advised methat he counted in one bunch, coming to water, forty-nine sheep. 

Mr. Leady further advised me that in his country, owing to the sparsesettlement, the game laws are not at all regarded, and sheep are huntedat all times of the year. The settlers themselves advocate theprotection of the game, but there is really no one to enforce thelaws. Recent advices from this country show that the conditions thereare now somewhat improved. 

It is probable that in suitable localities in the Missouri River badlands sheep are still found in some numbers all the way from the mouthof the Little Missouri to the mouth of the Judith River. 

Mr. O. C. Graetz, now, or recently, of Kipp, Montana, advised me, throughmy friend, J. B. Monroe, that in 1894, in the Big Horn Mountains, Wyo. , on the head of the Little Horn River, in the rough and rolling countryhe saw a band of eleven sheep. The same man tells me that also in 1894, in Sweetwater county, in Wyoming, near the Sweetwater River, south ofSouth Pass, on a mountain known as Oregon Butte, he twice saw twosheep. The country was rolling and high, with scattering timber, but notmuch of it. In this country, and at that time, the sheep were not muchhunted. 

Mr. Elwood Hofer, one of the best known guides of the West, whose homeis in Gardiner, Park county, Mont. , has very kindly furnished me withinformation about the sheep on the borders of the Yellowstone NationalPark. Writing in May, 1898, he says: "At this time sheep are notnumerous anywhere in this country, compared with what they were beforethe railroad (Northern Pacific Railroad) was built in 1881. In summerthey are found in small bands all through the mountains, in and aboutthe National Park. I found them all along the divide, and out on thespurs, between the Yellowstone and Stinking Water rivers, and on downbetween the Yellowstone and Snake rivers, on one side, and the southfork of Stinking Water River and the Wind River on the east. I foundsheep at the extreme headwaters of the Yellowstone, and of the WindRiver, and the Buffalo Fork of Snake River. There are sheep in theTetons, Gallatin-Madison range, and even on Mount Holmes. I have seenthem around Electric Peak, and so on north, along the west side of theYellowstone as far as the Bozeman Pass; but not lately, for I have notbeen in those mountains for a number of years. All along the range fromthe north side of the Park to within sight of Livingston there are a fewsheep. 

"On the Stinking Water, where I used to see bands of fifteen to twentysheep, now we only see from three to five. Of late years I have seenvery few large rams, and those only in the Park. Last summerMr. Archibald Rogers saw a large ram at the headwaters of Eagle Creek, very close to the Park. In winter there are usually a few large rams inthe Gardiner Canyon. I hear that there are a few sheep out towardBozeman, on Mt. Blackmore, and the mountains near there. 

"I believe that some of the reasons for the scarcity of mountain sheepin this country are these: First, the settlement of the plains countryclose to the mountains, prevents their going to their winter ranges, andso starves them; secondly, the same cause keeps them in the mountains, where the mountain lions can get at them; and thirdly, the scab haskilled a good many. I do not think that the rifle has had much to dowith destroying the sheep. "

Sheep were formerly exceedingly abundant in all the bad lands along theYellowstone and Missouri rivers, and in the rough, broken country fromPowder River west to the Big Horn. The Little Missouri country was agood sheep range, and also the broken country about Fort Laramie. In theBlack Hills of Dakota they were formerly abundant, and also along theNorth Platte River, near the canons of the Platte, in the CasparMountain, and in all the rough country down nearly to the forks of thePlatte. 

The easternmost locality which I have for the bighorn is the BirdwoodCreek in Nebraska. This lies just north of O'Fallon Station on the UnionPacific Railroad and flows nearly due south into the North PlatteRiver. It is in the northwestern corner of Lincoln county, Nebraska, just west of the meridian of 101 degrees. Here, in 1877, the late MajorFrank North, well known to all men familiar with the West between theyears 1860 and 1880, saw, but did not kill, a male mountain sheep. Theanimal was only 100 yards from him, was plainly seen and certainlyrecognized. Major North had no gun, and thought of killing the sheepwith his revolver, but his brother, Luther H. North, who was armed witha rifle, was not far from him, and Major North dropped down out of sightand motioned his brother to come to him, so that he might kill it. Bythe time Luther had come up, the sheep had walked over a ridge and wasnot seen again, but there is no doubt as to its identification. It hadprobably come from Court House Rock in Scott's Bluff county, Nebraska, where there were still a few sheep as recently as twenty-five years ago. 

These animals were also more or less abundant along the Little MissouriRiver as late as the late '80's, and perhaps still later. This hadalways been a favorite range for them, and in 1874 they were noticed andreported on by Government expeditions which passed through the country, and the hunters and trappers who about that time plied their trade alongthat river found them abundant. Mr. Roosevelt has written much ofhunting them on that stream. 

The low bluffs of the Yellowstone River--in the days when that was ahostile Indian country, and only the hunter who was particularlyreckless and daring ventured into it--were a favorite feeding ground forsheep. They were reported very numerous by the first expeditions thatwent up the river, and a few have been killed there within five or sixyears, although the valley is given over to farming and the upperprairie is covered with cattle. This used to be one of the greatestsheep ranges in all the West; the wide flats of the river bottom, thehigher table lands above, and the worn bad lands between, furnishingideal sheep ground. The last killed there, so far as I know, were a ramand two ewes, which were taken about forty miles below Rosebud Station, on the river, in 1897 or 1898. 

Of Wyoming, Mr. Wm. Wells writes: "I have only been up here innorthwestern Wyoming for a year, but from what I have seen, sheep areholding their own fairly well, and may be increasing in places. In 1897, Mr. H. D. Shelden, of Detroit, Mich. , and myself were hunting sheep justwest of the headwaters of Hobacks River. There was a sort of knife-edgeridge running about fifteen miles north and south, the summit of whichwas about 2, 000 feet above a bench or table-land. The ridge was wellwatered, and in some places the timber ran nearly up to the top of theridge. On this ridge there were about 100 sheep, divided into threebands. Each band seemed to make its home in a cup-like hollow on theeast side of the ridge, about 500 feet below the crest, but the membersof the different bands seemed to visit back and forth, as the numberswere not always the same. 

"We could take our horses up into either one of the three hollows, andsome of the sheep were so tame that we have several times been withinfifty yards in plain sight, and had the sheep pay very little attentionto us. In one instance two ewes and lambs went on ahead of us at a walkfor several hundred yards, often stopping to look back; and in another asheep, after looking at us, two horses and two dogs, across a canyon 200yards wide, pawed a bed in the slide rock and lay down. In another caseI drove about thirty head of ewes and lambs to within thirty-five yardsof Mr. Shelden, and when he rose up in plain sight, they stood andlooked at him. When he saw that there was no ram there, he yelled atthem, upon which they ran off about 400 yards, and then stood and lookedat us. 

"I do not think that these sheep had been hunted, until this time, forseveral years. As nearly as I could tell, they ranged winter and summeron nearly the same ground. At the top of the range, facing the east, were overhanging ledges of rock, and under these the dung was two feetor more deep. 

"Either during the winter or early spring the sheep had been down in thetimber on the east side of the ridge, as I found the remains of several, in the winter coat, that had been killed by cougars. "

Mr. D. C. Nowlin, of Jackson, Wyo. , was good enough to write me in 1898, concerning the sheep in the general neighborhood of Jackson's Hole; thatis to say, in the ranges immediately south of the National Park, asection not far from that just described. He says: "In certain rangesnear here sheep are comparatively plentiful, and are killed everyhunting season. 

"Occasionally a scabby ram is killed. I killed one here which showedvery plainly the ravages of scab, especially around the ears, and on theneck and shoulders. Evidently the disease is identical with that socommon among domestic sheep, and I have heard more than one creditableaccount of mountain sheep mingling temporarily with domestic flocks andthus contracting the scab. I am confident that the same parasite whichis found upon scabby domestic sheep is responsible for the disease whichaffects the bighorn. It is not difficult to account for the transmissionof the disease, as western sheep-men roam with their flocks at will, from the peach belt to timber line, regardless alike of the legal orinherent rights of man or beast. Partly through isolation, and partlythrough moral suasion by our people, no domestic sheep have invadedJackson's Hole. "

Mr. Ira Dodge, of Cora, Wyo. , in response to inquiries as to the sheepin his section of the country, says: "Mountain sheep are, like mostother game, where you find them; but their feeding grounds are mainlyhigh table-lands, at the foot of, or near, high rocky peaks orranges. These table-lands occur at or near timber line, varying one ortwo thousand feet either way. In this latitude timber line occurs atabout 11, 500 feet. In all the ranges in this locality, namely, the WindRiver, Gros Ventre, and Uintah, water is found in abundance, and, as arule, there is plenty of timber. I think I have more often found sheepin the timber, or below timber line, than at higher altitudes, althoughsometimes I have located the finest rams far above the last scrubbypine. 

"The largest bunch of sheep that I have seen was in the fall of 1893. Iestimated the band at 75 to 100. In that bunch there were no rams, andthey remained in sight for quite a long time; so that I had a goodopportunity to estimate them. 

"I do not profess to know where the majority of these sheep winter, but, undoubtedly, a great number winter on the table-lands before mentioned, where a rich growth of grass furnishes an abundance of feed. At thisaltitude the wind blows so hard and continuously, and the snow is solight and dry, that there would be no time during the whole winter whenthe snow would lie on the ground long enough to starve sheep to death. Several small bunches of sheep winter on the Big Gros VentreRiver. These, I think, are the same sheep that are found in summer timeon the Gros Ventre range. I have occasionally killed sheep that werescabby, but I have no positive knowledge that this disease has killedany number of sheep. In the fall of 1894 I discovered eleven large ramskulls in one place, and since that time found four more near by. Myfirst impression was that the eleven were killed by a snowslide, as theywere at the foot of one of those places where snowslides occur, butfinding the other four within a mile, and in a place where a snowslidecould not have killed them, it rather dispelled my first theory. Asmountain sheep can travel over snow drifts nearly as well as a caribou, I do not believe that they were stranded in a snowstorm and perished, and no hunter would have killed so great a number and left suchmagnificent heads. The scab theory is about the only solution left. Thesheep are not hunted very much here, and I believe their greatest enemyis the mountain lion. 

"There is one isolated bunch of mountain sheep on the Colorado Desert, situated in Fremont and Sweetwater counties, Wyo. , which seems to beholding its own against many range riders, meat and specimen hunters, aswell as coyotes. They are very light in color, much more so than theircousins found higher up in the mountains, and locally they are calledibex, or white goats. The country they live in is very similar to thebad lands of Dakota, and I dare say that their long life on the plainshas created in them a distinct sub-species of the bighorn. "

The Colorado Desert is situated in Wyoming, between the Green River onthe west, and the Red Desert on the east. The sheep are seen mostly onthe breaks on Green River. They are sometimes chased by cowboys, but Ihave never known of one being caught in that way. 

I am told that in some bad lands in the Red Desert, locally known asDobe Town, there is a herd of wild sheep, which are occasionally pursuedby range riders. Rarely one is roped. 

Mr. Fred E. White, of Jackson, Wyo. , advised me in 1898 of the existenceof sheep in the mountains which drain into Gros Ventre Fork, the headsof Green River and Buffalo Fork of Snake River. Mr. White was with theWebb party, some years ago, when they secured a number of sheep. Thesame correspondent calls attention to the very large number of sheepwhich in 1888, and for a few years thereafter, ranged in the highmountains between the waters of the Yellowstone and the StinkingWater. This is one of the countries from which sheep have been prettynearly exterminated by hunters and prospectors. 

Within the past twenty or thirty years mountain sheep have become veryscarce in all of their old haunts in Wyoming and northern Colorado. Thisdoes not seem to be particularly due to hunting, but the sheep seem tobe either moving away or dying out. Mr. W. H. Reed, in 1898, wrote mefrom Laramie, Wyo. , saying: "At present there are perhaps thirty head onSheep Mountain, twenty-two miles west of Laramie, Wyo. ; on the west sideof Laramie Peak there are perhaps twenty head; on the east side of thePeak twelve to fifteen head, and near the Platte Canon, at the head ofMedicine Bow River, there are fifteen. In 1894 I saw at the head of theGreen River, Hobacks River, and Gros Ventre River, between two and threehundred mountain sheep. There are sheep scattered all through the WindRiver, and a very few in the Big Horn Mountains; but all are in smallbunches, and these widely separated. Some of the old localities wherethey were very abundant in the early '70's, but now are never seen, areWhalen Canon, Raw Hide Buttes, Hartville Mountains, thirty milesnorthwest of Ft. Laramie, Elk Mountains, and the adjacent hills fifteenmiles east of Fort Steele, near old Fort Halleck. They seem to havedisappeared also from the bad lands along Green River, south of theUnion Pacific Railroad, from the Freezeout Hills, Platte Canyon, at themouth of Sweetwater River, from Brown's Canyon, forty miles northwest ofRawlins, from the Seminole and Ferris Mountains, and from many otherplaces in the middle and northeastern part of Wyoming. "

In Colorado, the mountains surrounding North Park and west to the Utahline, had many mountain sheep twenty-five years ago, but to-day oldhunters tell me that there are only two places where one is sure to findsheep. These are Hahn's Peak and the Rabbit Ears, two peaks at the southend of North Park. 

There were sheep in and about the Black Hills of Dakota as late as 1890, for Mr. W. S. Phillips has kindly informed me that about June of thatyear he saw three sheep on Mt. Inyan Kara. These were the only onesactually seen during the summer, but they were frequently heard of fromcattle-men, and Mr. Phillips considers it beyond dispute that at thattime they ranged from Sundance, Inyan Kara and Bear Lodge Mountains--allon the western and southwestern slope of the Black Hills, on and nearthe Wyoming-Dakota line--on the east, westerly at least to PumpkinButtes and Big Powder River, and in the edge of the bad lands of Wyomingas far north as the Little Missouri Buttes, and south to the south forkof the Cheyenne River, and the big bend of the north fork of the Platte, and the head of Green River. This range is based on reports of reliablerange riders, who saw them in passing through the country. It is anideal sheep country--rough, varying from sage brush desert, out of whichrises an occasional pine ridge butte, to bad lands, and the mountains ofthe Black Hills. There are patches of grassy, fairly good pastureland. The country is well watered, and there are many springs hiddenunder the hills which run but a short distance after they come out ofthe ground and then sink. Timber occurs in patches and more or less opengroves on the pine ridges that run sometimes for several miles in acontinuous hill, at a height of from one to three or four hundred feetabove the plain. The region is a cattle country. 

In 1893 and '97 fresh heads and hides were seen at Pocotello, Idaho, andat one or two other points west of there in the lava country along SnakeRiver and the Oregon short line. The sheep were probably killed in thespurs and broken ranges that run out on the west flank of the main chainof the Rockies toward the Blue Mountains of Oregon. 

Mr. William Wells, of Wells, Wyo. , has very kindly given me thefollowing notes as to Colorado, where he formerly resided. He says:"During 1890, '91, '92, there were a good many mountain sheep on theheadwaters of Roan Creek, a tributary of Grand River, in Colorado. RoanCreek heads on the south side of the Roan or Book Plateau, and flowssouth into Grand River. The elevation of Grand River at this point isabout 5, 000 feet, and the elevation of the Book Plateau is about 8, 500feet. The side of the plateau toward Grand River consists of cliffs from2, 000 to 3, 000 feet high, and as the branches of Roan Creek head on topof the plateau they form very deep box canyons as they cut their way tothe river. It is on these cliffs and in these canyons that the sheep werefound. I understand that there are some there yet, but I have not beenin that section since 1892. On all the cliffs are benches or terraces--acliff of 300 to 1, 000 feet at the top, then a bench, then another cliff, and so on to the bottom. The benches are well grassed, and there is moreor less timber, quaking asp, spruce and juniper in the sidecanyons. There are plenty of springs along the cliffs, and as they facethe south, the winter range is good. The top of the plateau is an openpark country, and at that time was, and is yet, for that matter, full ofdeer and bear, but I never saw any sheep on top, though they sometimescome out on the upper edge of the cliffs. 

"There were, and I suppose are still, small bands of sheep on Dome andShingle Peaks, on the headwaters of White River, in northwesternColorado. 

"There was also a band of sheep on the Williams River Mountains whichlie between Bear River and the Williams Fork of Bear River, innorthwestern Colorado, but these sheep were killed off about 1894 or'95. The Williams River Mountains are a low range of grass-coveredhills, well watered, with broken country and cliffs on the south side, toward the Williams Fork. 

"It is also reported that there is a band of sheep in Grand River Canyon, just above Glenwood Springs, Colo. , and sheep are reported to be on theincrease in the Gunnison country, and other parts of southwesternColorado, as that State protects sheep. "

Mr. W. J. Dixon, of Cimarron, Kan. , wrote me in May, 1898, as follows:"In 1874 or '75 I killed sheep at the head of the north fork of thePurgatoire, or Rio de las Animas, on the divide between the SpanishPeaks and main range of the Rocky Mountains, southwest by west from theSouth Peak. I was there also in November, 1892, and saw three or fourhead at a distance, but did not go after them. They must be on theincrease there. "

In 1899 there was a bunch of sheep in east central Utah, about thirtymiles north of the station of Green River, on the Rio Grande WesternRailroad, and on the west side of the Green River. These were on theranch of ex-member of Congress, Hon. Clarence E. Allen, and werecarefully protected by the owners of the property. The ranch hands areinstructed not to kill or molest them in any manner, and to do nothingthat will alarm them. They come down occasionally to the lower ground, attracted by the lucerne, as are also the deer, which sometimes provequite a nuisance by getting into the growing crops. The sheep spend mostof their time in the cliffs not far away. When first seen, about 1894, there were but five sheep in the bunch, while in 1899 twenty werecounted. This information was very kindly sent to me byMr. C. H. Blanchard, at one time of Silver City, but more recently ofSalt Lake City, in Utah. 

Mr. W. H. Holabird, formerly of Eddy, New Mexico, but more recently ofLos Angeles, Cal. , tells me that during the fall of 1896 a number ofsplendid heads were brought into Eddy, N. M. He is told that mountainsheep are quite numerous in the rugged ridge of the GuadeloupeMountains, bands of from five to twelve being frequently seen. As toCalifornia, he reports: "We have a good many mountain sheep on theisolated mountain spurs putting out from the main ranges into thedesert. I frequently hear of bands of two to ten, but our laws protectthem at all seasons. "

My friend, Mr. Herbert Brown, of Yuma, Ariz. , so well known as anenthusiastic and painstaking observer of natural history matters, haskindly written me something as to the mountain sheep in thatTerritory. He says: "Under the game law of Arizona the killing ofmountain sheep is absolutely prohibited, but that does not prevent theirbeing killed. It does, however, prevent their being killed for themarket, and it was killing for the market that threatened theirextermination. So far as I have ever been able to learn, these sheeprange, or did range, on all the mountains to the north, west, and southof Tucson, within a hundred miles or so. I know of them in theSuperstition Mountains, about a hundred miles to the north; in theQuijotoas Mountains, a like distance to the southwest, and in themountains intermediate; I have no positive proof of their existence inthe Santa Ritas, but about twenty-three years ago I saw a pair of oldand weather-beaten horns that had been picked up in that range near AguaCaliente, that is about ten or twelve miles southwest ofMt. Wrightson. I never saw any sheep in the range, nor do I know of anyone more fortunate than myself in that respect. In days gone by theSanta Catalinas, the Rincon, and the Tucson Mountains were the mostprolific hunting grounds for the market men. So far as I can remember, the first brought to the market here were subsequent to the coming ofthe railroad in 1880. They were killed in the Tucson Mountains by the'Logan boys, ' well known hunters at that time. Later the Logans made astrike in the mines and disappeared. For several years no sheep wereseen, but finally Mexicans began killing them in the Santa Catalinas, and occasionally six or eight would be hung up in the market at the sametime. Later the Papago Indians in the southwest began killing them forthe market. These people, as did also the Mexicans, killed big andlittle, and the animals, never abundant, were threatened withextermination. Those killed by the Logans came from the TucsonMountains; those killed by the Mexicans from the Santa Catalinas, andthose killed by the Indians probably from the Baboquivari or Comobabiranges. I questioned the hunters repeatedly, but they never gave me asatisfactory answer. 

"Although I never saw the sheep, I have repeatedly seen evidence of themin both the ranges named. Inasmuch as I have not seen one in severalyears past, I feel very confident that there are not many to see. Lastyear I learned of a large ram being killed in the Superstition Mountainswhich was alone when killed. About three years ago the head of a big ramwas brought to this city. It is said to have weighed seventy pounds. Idid not see it, nor did I learn where it came from. 

"The Superstition and the Santa Catalinas are the very essence ofruggedness, but notwithstanding this I am constrained to believe thatthe days of big game are nearly numbered in Arizona. The reasons forthis are readily apparent. The mountain ranges are more or lessmineralized. To this there is hardly an exception. There is no place sowild and forbidding that the prospector will not enter it. If 'pay rock'or 'pay dirt' is struck, then good-by solitude and big game. A secondcause is to be found in the cattle industry, which, as a rule, is veryprofitable. One of the most successful cattle growers in the countryonce told me that cattle in Arizona would breed up to 95 per cent. These breeders during the dry season leave the mesas and climb to thetop of the very highest mountains, and, of course, the more cattle theless game. A year ago I was in the Harshaw Mountains, and was told by ayoung man named Sorrell that a bunch of wild cattle occupied a certainpeak, and that on a certain occasion he had seen a big mountain sheepwith the cattle. 

"So far as I know, I never saw or heard of a case of scab among wildsheep. "

Later, but still in 1898, Mr. Brown wrote me that, according toMr. J. D. Thompson, mountain sheep are common in all the mountainsbordering the Gulf Coast in Sonora, and also in Lower California. Mr. Thompson is operating mines in the Sierra Pinto, Sonora, 180 milessoutheast of Yuma. This range is about six miles long and 800 feethigh. The mule deer and sheep are killed according to necessity. Indiansdo the killing. A mule deer is worth two dollars, Mexican money, and asheep but little more, although the former are much more abundant thanthe latter. The last sheep taken to camp was traded off for a pair ofoveralls. 

"It is reasonably certain that with sheep in southern Arizona andsouthern Sonora, every mountain range between the two must be tenantedby this species. 

"During the August feast days the Papago Indians living about Quitovacgenerally have a Montezuma celebration, in which live deer are employed. For this purpose several are caught. Subsequently they are killed andeaten. They are taken by relays of men or horses, sometimes both. "

In northern Arizona sheep are still common. Dr. C. Hart Merriam in hisreport on the San Francisco Mountain--"North American Fauna"III. --recorded the San Francisco herd, of which he saw eight or ninetogether. He also recorded their presence at the Grand Canyon, where theyare still fairly common, though very wary. 

Mr. A. W. Anthony, of California, wrote me in 1898 concerning sheep insouthern California, and I am glad to quote his letter almost infull. He says: "In San Diego county, Cal. , there are a few sheep alongthe western edge of the Colorado Desert. So far as I know, these are allin the first ranges above the desert, and do not extend above the piñonbelt. These barren hills are dry, broken and steep, with very littlewater, and except for the stock men, who have herds grazing on thewestern edge of the desert, they are very seldom disturbed. Along theline of the old Carriso Creek stage road from Yuma to Los Angeles, between Warner Pass and the mouth of Carriso Creek--where it reaches thedesert--are several water holes where sheep have, up to 1897, at least, regularly watered during the dry season. 

"I have known of several being killed by stock men there during the pastfew years, by watching for them about the water. As a rule, the countryis too dry, open and rough to make still-hunting successful. At the sametime I think they would have been killed off long since except forreinforcements received from across the line in Lower California. 

"Up to 1894 a few sheep were found as far up the range as Mt. Baldy, LosAngeles county, and they may still occur there, but I cannot be sure. One or two of the larger ranges west of the Colorado River, in thedesert, were, two years ago, and probably are still, blessed with a fewsheep. I have known of two or three parties that went after them, butthey would not tell where they went; not far north of the SouthernPacific Railroad, I think. 

"In Lower California sheep are still common in many places, but arelargely confined to the east side of the peninsula, mostly being foundin the low hills between the gulf and the main divide. A few reach thetop of San Pedro Martir--12, 000 feet--but I learn from the Indians theynever were common in the higher ranges. The piñon belt and below seem tobe their habitat, and in very dry, barren ranges. I have known a few toreach the Pacific, between 28 deg. N. Lat. And 30 deg. N. Lat. ; butthey never seem at home on the western side of the peninsula. 

"Owing to their habitat, few whites care to bother them--it costs toomuch in cash, and more in bodily discomfort; but the natives kill themat all seasons; not enough, however, to threaten extermination unlessthey receive help from the north. 

"I have no knowledge of any scab, or other disease, affecting the sheep, either in southern or Lower California. "

For northern California, records of sheep are few. Dr. Merriam, Chief ofthe Biological Survey, tells me that sheep formerly occurred on theSiskiyou range, on the boundary between California and Oregon, and thatsome years ago he saw an old ram that had been killed on thesemountains. On Mt. Shasta they were very common until recently. In theHigh Sierra, south of the latitude of Mono Lake, a few still occur, butthere are extremely rare. 

In Oregon records are few. Dr. Merriam informs me that he has seen themon Steen Mountain, in the southeastern part of the State, where theywere common a few years ago. Mr. Vernon Bailey, of the BiologicalSurvey, has seen them also in the Wallowa Mountains. The BiologicalSurvey also has records of their occurrence in the Blue Mountains, wherethey used to be found both on Strawberry Butte and on what are calledthe Greenhorn Mountains. The last positive record from that region is in1895. In 1897 Mr. Vernon Bailey reported sheep from Silver and AbertLakes in the desert region east of the Cascade. They were formerlynumerous in the rocky regions about Silver Lake, and a few stillinhabited the ridges northeast of Abert Lake. 

In Nevada Mr. Bailey found sheep in the Toyabe range. 

Mr. Bailey found sheep in the Seven Devils Mountains, and he andDr. Merriam found them in the Salmon River, Pahsimeroi and SawtoothMountains, all in Idaho. Mr. Bailey also found them in Texas in theGuadaloupe Mountains and in most of the ranges thence south to theboundary line in western Texas. 

 * * * * *

From what has already been said it will be seen that in inaccessibleplaces all over the western country, from the Arctic Ocean south toMexico, and at one or two points in the great plains, there still remainstocks of mountain sheep. Once the most unsuspicious and gentle of allour large game animals, they have become very shy, wary, and well ableto take care of themselves. In the Yellowstone Park, on the other hand, they have reverted to their old time tameness, and no longer regard manwith fear. There, as is told on other pages of this volume, they aremore tame than the equally protected antelope, mule deer or elk. 

Should the Grand Canyon of the Colorado be set aside as a national park, as it may be hoped it will be, the sheep found there will no doubtincrease, and become, as they now are in the Yellowstone Park, a mostinteresting natural feature of the landscape. And in like manner, whengame refuges shall be established in the various forest reservations allover the western country, this superb species will increase and dowell. Alert, quick-witted, strong, fleet and active, it is one of themost beautiful and most imposing of North American animals. Equally athome on the frozen snowbanks of the mountain top, or in the parcheddeserts of the south, dwelling alike among the rocks, in the timber, oron the prairie, the mountain sheep shows himself adaptable to allconditions, and should surely have the best protection that we can givehim. 

I shall never forget a scene witnessed many years ago, long beforerailroads penetrated the Northwest. I was floating down the MissouriRiver in a mackinaw boat, the sun just topping the high bad land bluffsto the east, when a splendid ram stepped out, upon a point far above thewater, and stood there outlined against the sky. Motionless, with headthrown back, and in an attitude of attention, he calmly inspected thevessel floating along below him; so beautiful an object amid his wildsurroundings, and with his background of brilliant sky, that no hand wasstretched out for the rifle, but the boat floated quietly on past him, and out of sight. 

_George Bird Grinnell_. 

[Illustration: _Merycodus osborni_ MATTHEW. From the Middle Miocene of Colorado. Discovered and described byDr. W. D. Matthew. Mounted by Mr. Adam Hermann. Height at withers, 19inches. Length of antlers, 9 inches. ]

Preservation of the Wild Animals of North America[8]

[Footnote 8: Address before the Boone and Crockett Club, Washington, January 23, 1904. ]

The National and Congressional movement for the preservation of theSequoia in California represents a growth of intelligent sentiment. Itis the same kind of sentiment which must he aroused, and aroused intime, to bring about Government legislation if we are to preserve ournative animals. That which principally appeals to us in the Sequoia isits antiquity as a race, and the fact that California is its lastrefuge. 

As a special and perhaps somewhat novel argument for preservation, Iwish to remind you of the great antiquity of our game animals, and theenormous period of time which it has taken nature to produce them. Wemust have legislation, and we must have it in time. I recall the storyof the judge and jury who arrived in town and inquired about thesecurity of the prisoner, who was known to be a desperate character;they were assured by the crowd that the prisoner was perfectly securebecause he was safely hanging to a neighboring tree. If our preservativemeasures are not prompt, there will be no animals to legislate for. 

SENTIMENT AND SCIENCE. 

The sentiment which promises to save the Sequoia is due to the spread ofknowledge regarding this wonderful tree, largely through the efforts ofthe Division of Forestry. In the official chronology of the UnitedStates Geological Survey--which is no more nor less reliable than thatof other geological surveys, because all are alike mere approximationsto the truth--the Sequoia was a well developed race 10, 000, 000 of yearsago. It became one of a large family, including fourteen genera. Themaster genus--the _Sequoia_--alone includes thirty extinctspecies. It was distributed in past times through Canada, Alaska, Greenland, British Columbia, across Siberia, and down into southernEurope. The Ice Age, and perhaps competition with other trees moresuccessful in seeding down, are responsible for the fact that there arenow only two living species--the "red wood, " or _Sequoiasempervirens_, and the giant, or _Sequoia gigantea_. The lastrefuge of the _gigantea_ is in ten isolated groves, in some ofwhich the tree is reproducing itself, while in others it has ceased toreproduce. 

In the year 1900 forty mills and logging companies were engaged indestroying these trees. 

All of us regard the destruction of the Parthenon by the Turks as agreat calamity; yet it would be possible, thanks to the laboriousstudies which have chiefly emanated from Germany, for modern architectsto completely restore the Parthenon in its former grandeur; but it isfar beyond the power of all the naturalists of the world to restore oneof these Sequoias, which were large trees, over 100 feet in height, spreading their leaves to the sun, before the Parthenon was evenconceived by the architects and sculptors of Greece. 

LIFE OF THE SEQUOIA AND HISTORY OF THOUGHT. 

In 1900 five hundred of the very large trees still remained, the highestreaching from 320 to 325 feet. Their height, however, appeals to us lessthan their extraordinary age, estimated by Hutchins at 3, 600, or by JohnMuir, who probably loves them more than any man living, at from 4, 000 to5, 000 years. According to the actual count of Muir of 4, 000 rings, by amethod which he has described to me, one of these trees was 1, 000 yearsold when Homer wrote the Iliad; 1, 500 years of age when Aristotle wasforeshadowing his evolution theory and writing his history of animals;2, 000 years of age when Christ walked upon the earth; nearly 4, 000 yearsof age when the "Origin of Species" was written. Thus the life of one ofthese trees spanned the whole period before the birth of Aristotle (384B. C. ) and after the death of Darwin (A. D. 1882), the two greatestnatural philosophers who have lived. 

These trees are the noblest living things upon earth. I can imagine thatthe American people are approaching a stage of general intelligence andenlightened love of nature in which they will look back upon thedestruction of the Sequoia as a blot on the national escutcheon. 

VENERATION OF AGE. 

The veneration of age sentiment which should, and I believe actuallydoes, appeal to the American people when clearly presented to them evenmore strongly than the commercial sentiment, is roused in equal strengthby an intelligent appreciation of the race longevity of the largeranimals which our ancestors found here in profusion, and of which but acomparatively small number still survive. To the unthinking man a bison, a wapiti, a deer, a pronghorn antelope, is a matter of hide and meat; tothe real nature lover, the true sportsman, the scientific student, eachof these types is a subject of intense admiration. From the mechanicalstandpoint they represent an architecture more elaborate than that ofWestminster Abbey, and a history beside which human history is as ofyesterday. 

SLOW EVOLUTION OF MODERN MAMMALS. 

These animals were not made in a day, nor in a thousand years, nor in amillion years. As said the first Greek philosopher, Empedocles, who 560B. C. Adumbrated the "survival of the fittest" theory of Darwin, they arethe result of ceaseless trials of nature. While the Sequoia was firstemerging from the Carboniferous, or Coal Period, the reptile-likeancestors of these mammals, covered with scales and of egg-layinghabits, were crawling about and giving not the most remote prophecy oftheir potential transformation through 10, 000, 000 of years into thesuperb fauna of the northern hemisphere. 

The descendants of these reptiles were transformed into mammals. If wehad had the opportunity of studying the early mammals of the RockyMountain region with a full appreciation of the possibilities ofevolution, we should have perceived that they were essentially of thesame stock and ancestral to our modern types. There were little camelsscarcely more than twelve inches high, little taller than cotton-tailrabbits and smaller than the jackass rabbits; horses 15 inches high, scarcely larger than, and very similar in build to, the little Englishcoursing hound known as the whippet; it is not improbable that we shallfind the miniature deer; there certainly existed ancestral wolves andfoxes of similarly small proportions. You have all read your Darwincarefully enough to know that neither camels, horses, nor deer wouldhave evolved as they did except for the stimulus given to their limb andspeed development by the contemporaneous evolution of their enemies inthe dog family. 

THE MIDDLE STAGE OF EVOLUTION. 

A million and a half years later these same animals had attained a veryconsiderable size; the western country had become transformed by theelevation of the plateaux into dry, grass-bearing uplands, where bothhorses and deer of peculiarly American types were grazing. We haverecently secured some fresh light on the evolution of the Americandeer. Besides the _Palaeryx_, which may be related to the trueAmerican deer _Odocoileus_, we have found the complete skeleton ofa small animal named _Merycodus_, nineteen inches high, possessedof a complete set of delicate antlers with the characteristic burr atthe base indicating the annual shedding of the horn, and a generalstructure of skeleton which suggests our so-called pronghorn antelope, _Antilocapra_, rather than our true American deer, _Odocoileus_. This was in all probability a distinctively American type. Its remains have been found in eastern Colorado in the geologicalage known as Middle Miocene, which is estimated (_sub rosa_, likeall our other geological estimates), at about a million and a half yearsof age. Our first thought as we study this small, strikingly gracefulanimal, is wonder that such a high degree of specialization andperfection was reached at so early a period; our second thought is thereverence for age sentiment. 

THE AFRICAN PERIOD IN AMERICA. 

The conditions of environment were different from what they were beforeor what they are now. These animals flourished during the period inwhich western America must have closely resembled the eastern andcentral portions of Africa at the present time. 

This inference is drawn from the fact that the predominant fauna ofAmerica in the Middle and Upper Miocene Age and in the Pliocene wasclosely analogous to the still extant fauna of Africa. It is true we hadno real antelopes in this country, in fact none of the bovines, and nogiraffes; but there was a camel which my colleague Matthew has surnamedthe "giraffe camel, " extraordinarily similar to the giraffe. There wereno hippopotami, no hyraces. All these peculiarly African animals, ofAfrican origin, I believe, found their way into Europe at least as faras the Sivalik Hills of India, but never across the Bering SeaIsthmus. The only truly African animal which reached America, and whichflourished here in an extraordinary manner, was the elephant, or ratherthe mastodon, if we speak of the elephant in its Miocene stage ofevolution. However, the resemblance between America and Africa isabundantly demonstrated by the presence of great herds of horses, ofrhinoceroses, both long and short limbed, of camels in great variety, including the giraffe-like type which was capable of browsing on thehigher branches of trees, of small elephants, and of deer, which inadaptation to somewhat arid conditions imitated the antelopes in generalstructure. 

ELIMINATION BY THE GLACIAL PERIOD. 

The Glacial Period eliminated half of this fauna, whereas the equatoriallatitude of the fauna in Africa saved that fauna from the attack of theGlacial Period, which was so fatally destructive to the animals in themore northerly latitudes of America. The glaciers or at least the verylow temperature of the period eliminated especially all the Africanaspects of our fauna. This destructive agency was almost as baneful andeffective as the mythical Noah's flood. When it passed off, theresurvived comparatively few indigenous North American animals, but thecountry was repopulated from the entire northern hemisphere, so that themagnificent wild animals which our ancestors found here were partlyNorth American and partly Eurasiatic in origin. 

ELIMINATION BY MAN. 

Our animal fortune seemed to us so enormous that it never could bespent. Like a young rake coming into a very large inheritance, weattacked this noble fauna with characteristic American improvidence, andwith a rapidity compared with which the Glacial advance was eternallyslow; the East went first, and in fifty years we have brought about anelimination in the West which promises to be even more radical than thateffected by the ice. We are now beginning to see the end of the NorthAmerican fauna; and if we do not move promptly, it will become a matterof history and of museums. The bison is on the danger line; if itsurvives the fatal effects of its natural sluggishness when abundantlyfed, it still runs the more insidious but equally great danger ofinbreeding, like the wild ox of Europe. The chances for the wapiti andelk and the western mule and black-tail deer are brighter, provided thatwe move promptly for their protection. The pronghorn is a wonderfullyclever and adaptive animal, crawling under barb-wire fences, and thusavoiding one of the greatest enemies of Western life. Last summer I wassurprised beyond measure to see the large herds of twenty to fortypronghorn antelopes still surviving on the Laramie plains, fenced in onall sides by the wires of the great Four-Bar Ranch, part of which Ibelieve are stretched illegally. 

RECENT DISAPPEARANCE. 

I need not dwell on the astonishingly rapid diminution of our largeranimals in the last few years; it would be like "carrying coals toNewcastle" to detail personal observations before this Club, which isfull of men of far greater experience and knowledge than myself. On theWhite River Plateau Forest Reserve, which is destined to be theAdirondacks of Colorado, with which many of you are familiar, the deerdisappeared in a period of four years. Comparatively few are left. 

The most thoroughly devastated country I know of is the Uintah MountainForest Reserve, which borders between southwestern Wyoming and northernUtah. I first went through this country in 1877. It was then a wildnatural region; even a comparatively few years ago it was bright withgame, and a perfect flower garden. It has felt the full force of thesheep curse. I think any one of you who may visit this country now willagree that this is not too strong a term, and I want to speak of thesheep question from three standpoints: First, as of a great andlegitimate industry in itself; second, from the economic standpoint;third, from the standpoint of wild animals. 

GENERAL RESULTS OF GRAZING. 

The formerly beautiful Uintah Mountain range presents a terrible exampleof the effects of prolonged sheep herding. The under foliage is entirelygone. The sheep annually eat off the grass tops and prevent seedingdown; they trample out of life what they do not eat; along the principalvalley routes even the sage brush is destroyed. Reforesting by theupgrowth of young trees is still going on to a limited extent, but is indanger. The water supply of the entire Bridger farming country, which isdependent upon the Uintah Mountains as a natural reservoir, is rapidlydiminishing; the water comes in tremendous floods in the spring, andbegins to run short in the summer, when it is most needed. Theconsequent effects upon both fish and wild animals are well known toyou. No other animal will feed after the sheep. It is no exaggeration tosay, therefore, that the sheep in this region are the enemies of everyliving thing. 

BALANCE OF NATURE. 

Even the owner cannot much longer enjoy his range, because he isoperating against _the balance of nature_. The last stage ofdestruction which these innocent animals bring about has not yet beenreached, but it is approaching; it is the stage in which there is _nofood left for the sheep themselves_. I do not know how many poundsof food a sheep consumes in course of a year--it cannot be much lessthan a ton--but say it is only half a ton, how many acres of dry westernmountain land are capable of producing half a ton a year when notseeding down? As long as the consumption exceeds the production of thesoil, it is only a question of time when even the sheep will no longerfind subsistence. 

THE LAST STAGE TO BE SEEN IN THE ORIENT. 

While going through these mountains last summer and reflecting upon theprodigious changes which the sheep have brought about in a few years, itoccurred to me that we must look to Oriental countries in order to seethe final results of sheep and goat grazing in semi-arid climates. Ihave proposed as an historical thesis a subject which at first appearssomewhat humorous, namely, "The Influence of Sheep and Goats inHistory. " I am convinced that the country lying between Arabia andMesopotamia, which was formerly densely populated, full of beautifulcities, and heavily wooded, has been transformed less by the action ofpolitical causes than by the unrestricted browsing of sheep andgoats. This browsing destroyed first the undergrowth, then the forests, the natural reservoirs of the country, then the grasses which heldtogether the soil, and finally resulted in the removal of the soilitself. The country is now denuded of soil, the rocks are practicallybare; it supports only a few lions, hyaes, gazelles, and Bedouins. Evenif the trade routes and mines, on which Brooks Adams in his "New Empire"dwells so strongly as factors of all civilization, were completelyrestored, the population could not be restored nor the civilization, because there is nothing in this country for people to live upon. Thesame is true of North Africa, which, according to Gibbon, was once thegranary of the Roman Empire. In Greece to-day the goats are nowdestroying the last vestiges of the forests. 

I venture the prediction that the sheep industry on naturally semi-aridlands is doomed; that the future feeding of both sheep and cattle willbe on irrigated lands, and that the forests will be carefully guarded byState and Nature as natural reservoirs. 

COMMERCIALISM AND IDEALISM. 

By contrast to the sheep question, which is a purely economic orutilitarian one, and will settle itself, if we do not settle it bylegislation based on scientific observation, the preservation of theSequoia and of our large wild animals is one of pure sentiment, ofappreciation of the ideal side of life; we can live and make moneywithout either. We cannot even use the argument which has been soforcibly used in the case of the birds, that the cutting down of thesetrees or killing of these animals will upset the balance of nature. 

I believe in every part of the country--East, West, North, and South--weAmericans have reached a stage of civilization where if the matter wereat issue the majority vote would unquestionably be, _let us preserveour wild animals. _

We are generally considered a commercial people, and so we are; but weare more than this, we are a people of ideas, and we value them. Asstated in the preamble of the Sequoia bill introduced on Dec. 8, 1903, we must legislate for the benefit and enjoyment of the people, and I mayadd for the greatest happiness of the largest number, not only of thepresent but of future generations. 

So far as my observation goes, preservation can only be absolutelyinsured by national legislation. 

GOVERNMENT LEGISLATION BY ENGLAND, BELGIUM, GERMANY. 

The English, a naturally law-abiding people, seem to have a specialfaculty for enforcing laws. By co-operation with the Belgian Governmentthey have taken effective and remarkably successful measures for theprotection of African game. As for Germany, in 1896 Mr. Gosselin, ofthe British Embassy in Berlin, reported as follows for German East Africa:

That the question of preserving big game in German East Africa has beenunder the consideration of the local authorities for some time past, anda regulation has been notified at Dar-es-Salaam which it is hoped willdo something toward checking the wanton destruction of elephants andother indigenous animals. Under this regulation every hunter must takeout an animal license, for which the fee varies from 5 to 500 rupees, the former being the ordinary fee for natives, the latter for elephantand rhinoceros hunting, and for the members of sporting expeditions intothe interior. Licenses are not needed for the purpose of obtaining food, nor for shooting game damaging cultivated land, nor for shooting apes, beasts of prey, wild boars, reptiles, and all birds except ostriches andcranes. Whatever the circumstances, the shooting is prohibited of allyoung game--calves, foals, young elephants, either tuskless or havingtusks under three kilos, all female game if recognizable--except, ofcourse, those in the above category of unprotected animals. Further, inthe Moschi district of Kilima-Njaro, no one, whether possessing alicense or not, is allowed without the special permission of theGovernor to shoot antelopes, giraffes, buffaloes, ostriches, and cranes. Further, special permission must be obtained to hunt these with nets, bykindling fires, or by big drives. Those who are not natives have alsoto pay l00 rupees for the first elephant killed, and 250 for eachadditional one, and 50 rupees for the first rhinoceros and 150 for eachsucceeding one. Special game preserves are also to be established, andMajor von Wissmann, in a circular to the local officers, explains thatno shooting whatever will be allowed in these without special permissionfrom the Government. The reserves will be of interest to science as ameans of preserving from extirpation the rarer species, and the Governorcalls for suggestions as to the best places for them. They are to extendin each direction at least ten hours' journey on foot. He further asksfor suggestions as to hippopotamus reserves, where injury would not bedone to plantations. Two districts are already notified as gamesanctuaries. Major von Wissmann further suggests that the stationauthorities should endeavor to domesticate zebras (especially whencrossed with muscat and other asses and horses), ostriches, and hyaenadogs crossed with European breeds. Mr. Gosselin remarks that the bestmeans of preventing the extermination of elephants would be to fix byinternational agreement among all the Powers on the East African coast aclose time for elephants, and to render illegal the exportation or saleof tusks under a certain age. 

In December, 1900, Viscount Cranborne in the House of Commons reportedas follows:

* * * That regulations for the preservation of wild animals have beenin force for some time in the several African Protectorates administeredby the Foreign Office as well as in the Sudan. The obligations imposedby the recent London Convention upon the signatory Powers will notbecome operative until after the exchange of ratifications, which hasnot yet taken place. In anticipation, however, steps have been taken torevise the existing regulations in the British Protectorates so as tobring them into strict harmony with the terms of the convention. Thegame reserves now existing in the several Protectorates are: In (a)British Central Africa, the elephant marsh reserve and the Shirwareserve; in (b) the East Africa Protectorate, the Kenia District; in (c)Uganda, the Sugota game reserve in the northeast of the Protectorate; in(d) Somaliland, a large district defined by an elaborate boundary linedescribed in the regulations. The regulations have the force of law inthe Protectorates, and offenders are dealt with in the ProtectorateCourts. It is in contemplation to charge special officers of theAdministrations with the duty of watching over the proper observance ofthe regulations. Under the East African game regulations only theofficers permanently stationed at or near the Kenia reserve may bespecially authorized to kill game in the reserve. 

Other effective measures have been taken in the Soudandistrict. Capt. Stanley Flower, Director of the Gizeh ZoologicalGardens, made a very full report, which is quoted in _Nature_ forJuly 25, 1901, p. 318. 

STATE LAWS. 

The preservation of even a few of our wild animals is a very largeproposition; it is an undertaking the difficulty of which grows inmagnitude as one comes to study it in detail and gets on the ground. Therapidly increasing legislation in the Western States is an indication ofrapidly growing sentiment. A still more encouraging sign is the strongsympathy with the enforcement of the laws which we find around theNational Park in Wyoming and Montana especially. State laws should beencouraged, but I am convinced that while effective in the East, theywill not be effective in the West _in time_, because of thescattered population, the greater areas of country involved, the greaterdifficulty of watching and controlling the killing, and the actual needof game for food by settlers. 

When we study the operation of our State laws on the ground we find thatfor various reasons they are not fully effective. A steady and in somecases rapid diminution of animals is going on so far as I have observedin Colorado and Wyoming; either the wardens strictly enforce the lawswith strangers and wink at the breaking of them by residents, or theydraw their salaries and do not enforce the laws at all. [9]

[Footnote 9: Addendum. --There is no question as to the good intention ofState legislation. The chief difficulty in the enforcement of the law isthat officers appointed locally, and partly from political reasons, shrink from applying the penalties of the law to their own friends andneighbors, especially where the animals are apparently abundant and aresought for food. The honest enforcement of the law renders the officerunpopular, even if it does not expose him to personal danger. He isregarded as interfering with long established rights and customs. Theabove applies to conscientious officers. Many local game wardens, as inthe Colorado White River Plateau, for example, give absolutely noattention to their duties, and are not even on the ground at the openingof the season. In the Plateau in August, 1901, the laws were beingopenly and flagrantly violated, not only by visitors, but byresidents. At the same time the National forest laws were being moststrictly and intelligently enforced. There is no question whatever thatthe people of various States can be brought to understand that Nationalaid or co-operation in the protection of certain wild areas is asadvantageous to a locality as National irrigation and National forestprotection. It is to be sought as a boon and not as an infringement. ]

THE VARIOUS CAUSES OF ELIMINATION. 

The enemies of our wild animals are numerous and constantlyincreasing. (1) There is first the general advance of what we callcivilization, the fencing up of country which principally cuts off thewinter feeding grounds. This was especially seen in the country south ofthe National Park last winter. (2) The destruction of natural browsingareas by cattle and sheep, and by fire. (3) The destruction of game bysportsmen plays a comparatively small part in the total process ofelimination, yet in some cases it is very reckless, and especially badin its example. When I first rode into the best shooting country ofColorado in 1901, there was a veritable cannonading going on, whichreminded me of the accounts of the battle of El Caney. The destructioneffected by one party in three days was tremendous. In riding over theground--for I was not myself shooting--I was constantly coming acrossthe carcasses of deer. (4) The summer and winter killing for food; thisis the principal and in a sense the most natural and legitimate cause, although it is largely illegal. In this same area, which was more orless characteristic and typical of the other areas, even of theconditions surrounding the national reserve in the Big Horn region, thedestruction was, and is, going on principally during the winter when thedeer are seeking the winter ranges and when they are actually shot andcarted away in large numbers for food both for the ranchmen and forneighboring towns. Making all allowances for exaggeration, I believe itto be absolutely true that these deer were being killed by thewagonload! The same is true of the pronghorn antelope in the LaramiePlains district. The most forceful argument against this form ofdestruction is that it is extremely short-lived and benefitscomparatively few people. This argument is now enforced by law and bypublic sentiment in Maine and New York, where the wild animals, bothdeer and moose, are actually increasing in number. 

Granted, therefore, that we have both National and State sentiment, andthat National legislation by co-operation with the States, if properlyunderstood, would receive popular support, the carrying out of thislegislation and making it fully effective will be a difficult matter. 

It can be done, and, in my judgment, by two measures. The first isentirely familiar to you: certain or all of the forest reserves must bemade animal preserves; the forest rangers must be made game wardens, orspecial wardens must be appointed. This is not so difficult, becausethe necessary machinery is already at hand, and only requires adaptationto this new purpose. It can probably be carried through by patience andgood judgment. Second, the matter of the preservation of the wintersupply of food and protection of animals while enjoying this supply isthe most difficult part of the whole problem, because it involves theacquisition of land which has already been taken up by settlers andwhich is not covered by the present forest reserve machinery, and whichI fear in many instances will require new legislation. 

Animals can change their habits during the summer, and have already doneso; the wapiti, buffalo, and even the pronghorn have totally changedtheir normal ranges to avoid their new enemy; but in winter they areforced by the heavy snows and by hunger right down into the enemy'scountry. 

Thus we not only have the problem of making game preserves out of ourforest reserves, but we have the additional problem of enlarging thearea of forest reserves so as to provide for winter feeding. If this isnot done all the protection which is afforded during the summer will bewholly futile. This condition does not prevail in the East, in Maine andin the Adirondacks, where the winter and summer ranges are practicallysimilar. It is, therefore a new condition and a new problem. 

Greater difficulties have been overcome, however, and I have no doubtthat the members of this Club will be among the leaders in themovement. The whole country now applauds the development andpreservation of the Yellowstone Park, which we owe largely to theinitiative of Phillips, Grinnell, and Rogers. Grant and La Farge werepioneers in the New York Zoological Park movement. We know the work ofMerriam and Wadsworth, and we always know the sympathies of our honoredfounder, member, and guest of this evening, Theodore Roosevelt. 

What the Club can do is to spread information and thoroughly enlightenthe people, who always act rightly when they understand. 

It must not be put on the minutes of the history of America, a countrywhich boasts of its popular education, that the _Sequoia_, a race10, 000, 000 years old, sought its last refuge in the United States, withindividual trees older than the entire history and civilization ofGreece, that an appeal to the American people was unavailing, that thefinest grove was cut up for lumber, fencing, shingles, and boxes! Itmust not be recorded that races of animals representing stocks 3, 000, 000years of age, mostly developed on the American continent, wereeliminated in the course of fifty years for hides and for food in acountry abounding in sheep and cattle. 

The total national investment in animal preservation will be less thanthe cost of a single battleship. The end result will be that a hundredyears hence our descendants will be enjoying and blessing us for thetrees and animals, while, in the other case, there will be no vestige ofthe battleship, because it will be entirely out of date in the warfareof the future. 

_Henry Fairfield Osborn_. 

Distribution of the Moose

Republished by permission from the Seventh Annual Report of the Forest, Fish and Game Commission of the State of New York. 

The Scandinavian elk, which is closely related to the American moose, was known to classical antiquity as a strange and ungainly beast of thefar north; especially as an inhabitant of the great Teutoborgian Forest, which spread across Germany from the Rhine to the Danube. The halfmythical character which has always clung to this animal is wellillustrated in the following quotation from Pliny's Natural History, Book 8, chapter 16:

"There is also the achlis, which is produced in the island ofScandinavia. It has never been seen in this city, although we have haddescriptions of it from many persons; it is not unlike the elk, but hasno joints in the hind leg. Hence it never lies down, but reclinesagainst a tree while it sleeps; it can only be taken by previouslycutting into the tree, and thus laying a trap for it, as, otherwise, itwould escape through its swiftness. Its upper lip is so extremely large, for which reason it is obliged to go backwards when grazing; otherwiseby moving onwards, the lip would get doubled up. " Pliny's achlis andelk were the same animal. 

The strange stiffness of joint and general ungainliness of the elk, however, were matters of such general observation as to apparently havebecome embodied in the German name _eland_, sufferer. Curiouslyenough this name _eland_ was taken by the Dutch to South Africa, and there applied to the largest and handsomest of the bovine antelopes, _Oreas canna_. 

In mediaeval times there are many references in hunting tales to the elk, notably in the passage in the Nibelungen Lied describing Siegfried'sgreat hunt on the upper Rhine, in which he killed an elk. Among theanimals slain by the hero is the "schelk, " described as a powerful anddangerous beast. This name has been a stumbling block to scholars foryears, and opinions vary as to whether it was a wild stallion--at alltimes a savage animal--or a lone survivor of the Megaceros, or Irishelk. In this connection it may be well to remark that the Irish elk andthe true elk were not closely related beyond the fact that both weremembers of the deer family. The Irish elk, which was common in Europethroughout the glacial and post-glacial periods, living down nearly orquite to the historic period, was nothing more than a gigantic fallowdeer. 

The old world elk is still found in some of the large game preserves ofeastern Germany, where the Emperor, with his somewhat remarkable ideasof sportsmanship, annually adds several to his list of slaughteredgame. They are comparatively abundant in Scandinavia, especially inNorway, where they are preserved with great care. They still survive inconsiderable numbers in Russia and Siberia as far east as Amurland. 

Without going into a detailed description of the anatomical differencesbetween the European elk and the American moose, it may be said that theold world animal is much smaller in size and lighter in color. Theantlers are less elaborate and smaller in the European animal, andcorrespond to the stage of development reached by the averagethree-year-old bull of eastern Canada. There is a marked separation ofthe main antler and the brow antlers. That this deterioration of bothbody and antlers is due partly to long continued elimination of the bestbulls, and partly to inbreeding, is probable. We know that the declineof the European red deer is due to these causes, and that a similarprocess of deterioration is showing among the moose in certain outlyingdistricts in eastern North America. 

The type species of this group, known as _Alces machlis_, was longconsidered by European naturalists uniform throughout its circumpolardistribution, in the north of both hemispheres. The American view thatpractically all animals in this country represent species distinct fromtheir European congeners is now generally accepted, and the name_Alces americanus_ has been given to the American form. It wouldappear, however, that the generic name _Alces_ must soon bereplaced by the earlier form _Paralces_. 

[Illustration: YEARLING MOOSE. ]

The comparatively slight divergence of the two types at the extreme eastand west limits of their range, namely, Norway and eastern Canada, wouldindicate that the period of separation of the various members of thegenus is not, geologically speaking, of great antiquity. 

The name _moose_ is an Algonquin word, meaning a wood eater orbrowser, and is most appropriate, since the animal is pre-eminently acreature of the thick woods. The old world term elk was applied by theEnglish settlers, probably in Virginia, to the wapiti deer, an animalvery closely related to the red deer of Europe. In Canada the moose issometimes spoken of as the elk, and even in the Rocky Mountain regionone hears occasionally of the "flat-horned elk. " We are fortunate inpossessing a native name for this animal, and to call it other thanmoose can only create confusion. 

The range of the moose in North America extends from Nova Scotia in theextreme east, throughout Canada and certain of the Northern UnitedStates, to the limits of tree growth in the west and north ofAlaska. Throughout this vast extent of territory but two species arerecognized, the common moose, _Alces americanus_, and the Alaskamoose, _Alces gigas_, of the Kenai Peninsula. What the limits ofthe range of the Alaska moose are, may not be known for someyears. Specimens obtained in the autumn of 1902 from the headwaters ofthe Stikine River in British Columbia, appear to resemble closely, intheir large size and dark coloration, the moose of the Kenai Peninsula. The antlers, however, are much smaller. These specimens also differ fromthe eastern moose in the same manner as does the Kenai Peninsula animal, except in the antlers, which approximate to those of the type species. 

I have no doubt that the moose on the mainland along Cook Inlet willprove to be identical with those of the Kenai Peninsula itself, but howfar their range extends we have at present no means of knowing. It iseven possible that further exploration will bring to light other speciesin the Northwestern Provinces and in Alaska. 

Taking up this range in detail, the Nova Scotia moose are to-daydistinctly smaller than their kin in Ontario, but are very numerous whenthe settled character of the country is taken into consideration. Ihave seen very few good antlers come from this district, and in myopinion the race there is showing decided signs of deterioration. 

[Illustration: MAINE MOOSE; ABOUT 1890. ]

These remarks apply, but with less force, to New Brunswick and to Maine, where the moose, though larger than the Nova Scotia animal, aredistinctly inferior to those of the region north of the GreatLakes. This is probably due to killing off the big bulls, thus leavingthe breeding to be done by the smaller and weaker bulls; and, also, toinbreeding. 

In Maine the moose originally abounded, but by the middle of the lastcentury they were so reduced in numbers as to be almost rare. Thanks tovery efficient game laws, backed by an intelligent public opinion, moosehave greatly increased during the last few days in Maine and also in NewBrunswick. Their habits have been modified, but as far as the number ofmoose and deer are concerned, the protection of game in Maine has been abrilliant example to the rest of the country. During the same period, however, caribou have almost entirely disappeared. 

Moose were found by the first settlers in New Hampshire and Vermont, appearing occasionally, as migrants only, in the Berkshire hills ofMassachusetts. In the State of New York the Catskills appear to havebeen their extreme southern limit in the east; but they disappeared fromthis district more than a century ago. In the Adirondacks, or the NorthWoods, as they were formerly called, moose abounded among the hard woodridges and lakes. This was the great hunting country of the SixNations. Here, too, many of the Canadian Indians came for their wintersupply of moose meat and hides. The rival tribes fought over thesehunting grounds much in the same manner as the northern and southernIndians warred for the control of Kentucky. 

Going westward in the United States we find no moose until we reach thenorthern peninsula of Michigan and northern Wisconsin, where moose wereonce numerous. They are still abundant in northern Minnesota, where thecountry is extremely well suited to their habits. Then there is a break, caused by the great plains, until we reach the Rocky Mountains. They arefound along the mountains of western Montana and Idaho as far south asthe northwest corner of Wyoming in the neighborhood of the YellowstonePark, the Tetons and the Wind River Mountains being their southern limitin this section. [10] The moose of the west are relatively small animalswith simple antlers, and have adapted themselves to mountain living instriking contrast to their kin in the east. 

[Footnote 10: William Roland, an old-time mountaineer, states that heonce killed a moose about ten miles north of old Ft. Tetterman, in whatis now Wyoming. --EDITOR. ]

[Illustration: MOOSE KILLED 1892, WITH UNUSUAL DEVELOPMENT OF BROWANTLERS. UPPER OTTAWA RIVER. CANADA]

North of the Canadian boundary we may start with the curious fact thatthe great peninsula of Labrador, which seems in every way a suitablelocality for moose, has always been devoid of them. There is no recordof their ever appearing east of the Saguenay River, and this factaccounts for their absence from Newfoundland, which received its faunafrom the north by way of Labrador, and not from the west by way of CapeBreton. Newfoundland is well suited to the moose, and a number ofindividuals have been turned loose there, without, as yet, any apparentresults. Systematic and persistent effort, however, in this directionshould be successful. 

South of the St. Lawrence River, the peninsula of Gaspé was once afavorite range, but the moose were nearly killed off in the early '60'sby hide-hunters. Further west they are found in small numbers on bothbanks of the St. Lawrence well back from the settlements, until on thenorth shore we reach Trois Rivières, west of which they become morenumerous. 

The region of the upper Ottawa and Lake Kippewa has been in recent yearsthe best moose country in the east. The moose from this district averagemuch heavier and handsomer antlers than those of Maine and the MaritimeProvinces. However, the moose are now rapidly leaving this country andpushing further north. Twenty-five years ago they first appeared, comingfrom the south, probably from the Muskoka Lake country, into which theymay have migrated in turn from the Adirondacks. This northern movementhas been going on steadily within the personal knowledge of thewriter. Ten years ago the moose were practically all south and east ofLake Kippewa, now they are nearly all north of that lake, and extendnearly, if not quite, to the shores of James Bay. How far to the west ofthat they have spread we do not know; but it is probable that they arereoccupying the range lying between the shores of Lake Superior andJames Bay, which was long abandoned. Northwest of Lake Superior, throughout Manitoba and far to the north, is a region heavily wooded andstudded with lakes, constituting a practically untouched moose country. 

No moose, of course, are found in the plains country of Assiniboia, Saskatchewan, and Alberta; but east in Keewatin, and to the north inAthabaska, northern British Columbia, and northwest into Alaska we havean unbroken range, in which moose are scattered everywhere. They areincreasing wherever their ancient foe, the Indian, is dying off, andwhere white hunters do not pursue too persistently. In this entireregion, from the Ottawa in the east to the Kenai Peninsula in the farwest, moose are retiring toward the north before the advance ofcivilization, and are everywhere occupying new country. 

[Illustration: ALASKA MOOSE HEAD SHOWING UNUSUAL DEVELOPMENT OFANTLERS--KENAI PENINSULA. Kindness American Museum of Natural History, New York. ]

Wary and keen, and with great muscular strength and hardihood, the mooseis pitting his acute senses against the encroaching rifleman in thestruggle for survival, and it is fair to believe that this superb memberof the deer family will continue to be an inhabitant of the forest longafter most other members of the group have disappeared. 

The moose of Maine and the Maritime Provinces occupy a relatively smallarea, surrounded on all sides by settlements, which prevent the animalsfrom leaving the country when civilization encroaches. In this districttheir habits have been greatly modified. They do not show the same fearof the sound of rifle, of the smell of fire, or even of the scent ofhuman footsteps, as in the wilder portions of the country. Inconsequence of this change of habit, it is difficult for a hunter, whoseexperience is limited to Maine or the Maritime Provinces, to appreciatehow very shy and wary a moose can be. 

In the upper Ottawa country, when they first began to be hunted bysportsmen, the writer remembers landing from his canoe on the bank of asmall stream, and walking around a marsh a few acres in extent to lookat the moose tracks. Fresh signs, made that morning, were everywhere inevidence, and it had apparently been a favorite resort all summer. Snowfell that night and remained continuously on the ground for two weeks, when the writer again passed by this swamp and found that during theinterval it had not been visited by a single moose. The moccasin trackshad been scented, and the moose had left the neighborhood. A moose witha nose as sensitive as this would find existence unendurable in NewBrunswick or Maine. 

I have already referred to the relative size of the antlers of the moosefrom different localities, and called attention to the inferiority ofthe heads from the extreme east. Large heads have, however, come fromthis section, and even now one hears of several heads being takenannually in New Brunswick running to five feet and a little over inspread. The test of the value of a moose head is the width of itsantlers between the extreme points. The antlers of a young individualshow but few points, but these are long and the webbing on the mainblade is narrow. The brow antlers usually show two points. As the moosegrows larger the palmation becomes wider, and the points more numerousbut shorter, until in a very old specimen the upper part of the antleris merely scalloped along the edge, and the web is of great breadth. Inthe older and finer specimens the brow antlers are more complex, andshow three points instead of two. 

[Illustration: "BIERSTADT" HEAD. KILLED 1880, BOUNDARY OF NEW BRUNSWICKAND MAINE EXTREME SPREAD, 64! INCHES]

A similar change takes place in the bell. This pendulous gland is longand narrow in the young hull, but as he ages it shortens and widens, becoming eventually a sort of dewlap under the throat. 

One of the best heads from Maine that I can recall, was in thepossession of the late Albert Bierstadt, a member of the Boone andCrockett Club. The extreme spread of these antlers was 64-1/4 inches. Thisbull was killed in New Brunswick, near the Maine line, some twenty yearsago; another famous Maine head was presented to President Clevelandduring his first term. Photographs of both of these heads appearherewith. Many very handsome heads have been taken in the Ottawadistrict, sometimes running well over five feet. It is safe to assumethat a little short of six feet is the extreme width of an eastern head. 

The moose of the Rocky Mountains are relatively smaller than the easternmoose, and their antlers are seldom of imposing proportions. 

As we go north into British Columbia, through the headwaters of thePeace and Liard rivers, the animal becomes very large in size, perhapslarger than anywhere else in the world as far as his body is concerned, and it is highly probable that somewhere in this neighborhood the rangeof the giant Alaska moose begins. The species, however, does not showgreat antler development in this locality, but for some reason theantlers achieve their maximum development in the Kenai Peninsula. 

In the Kenai Peninsula and the country around Cook Inlet, Alaska, withan unknown distribution to south and east, we find the distinct speciesrecently described as _Alces gigas_. The animal itself has greatbulk, but perhaps not more so than the animals of the Cassiar Mountains, to which it is closely related. The antlers of these Alaska moose aresimply huge, running, on the average, very much larger and more complexthan even picked heads from the east. These antlers, in addition totheir size, have a certain peculiarity in the position of the browantlers, the plane of which is more often turned nearly at right anglesto the plane of the palmation of the main beam than in the easternmoose. In a high percentage of the larger heads there is on one or bothantlers an additional and secondary palmation. In the arrangement anddevelopment of the brow antlers, and in the complexity produced by thisdoubling of the beam, a startling resemblance is shown to the extinct_Cervalces_, a moose-like deer of the American Pleistocene, possibly ancestral to the genus _Alces_. If this resemblanceindicates any close relationship, we have in the Alaska moose a survivorof the archaic type from which the true moose and Scandinavian elk havesomewhat degenerated. The photographs of the Alaska moose shownherewith have this double palmation. 

[Illustration: PROBABLY LARGEST KNOWN ALASKA MOOSE HEAD--KENAIPENINSULA, 1899 EXTREME SPREAD, 78-1/2 INCHES--WEIGHT OF SKULL ANDANTLERS, 93 LBS]

Several heads from the Kenai Peninsula ranging over six feet areauthentic; a photograph of the largest moose head in the world ispublished herewith. This head is in the possession of the FieldColumbian Museum at Chicago, and measures 78-1/2 inches spread. Theanimal that bore it stood about seven feet at shoulders, but this heightis not infrequently equaled by eastern moose. The weight of the driedskull and antlers was ninety-three pounds, the palmation being in places2-1/8 inches thick. 

There are several large heads in the possession of Americantaxidermists, which, if properly authenticated, would prove ofinterest. No head, however, is of much value as a record unless itshistory is well known, and unless it has been in the hands ofresponsible persons. The measurements of antler spread can be consideredauthentic only when the skull is intact. If the skull is split an almostimperceptible paring of the skull bones at the joint would suffice todrop the antlers either laterally out of their proper plane, or elsepitch the main beam backward. By either of these devices a couple ofinches can be gained on each side, making a difference of several inchesin the aggregate. But the possession of an unbroken skull is by no meansa guarantee of the exact size of the head when killed. 

Since large antlers, and especially so-called "record heads, " of anyspecies of deer command a price among those who desire to pose assportsmen, and have not the strength or skill to hunt themselves, it hasbecome a regular business for dealers to buy up unusual heads. Thetemptation to tamper with such a head and increase its size is verygreat, and heads passing through the hands of such dealers must bediscarded as of little scientific value. A favorite device is to take agreen head, force the antlers apart with a board and a wedge every fewdays during the winter. By spring the skull and antlers are dry and theplank can be removed. The spread of antlers has meantime gained severalinches since the death of the animal that bore them. Such a device isalmost beyond detection. 

It is an exceedingly difficult matter to formulate a code of huntingethics, still harder to give them legal force; but public opinion shouldcondemn the kind of sportsmanship which puts a price on antlers. Astrophies of the chase, hard won through the endurance and skill of thehunter, they are legitimate records of achievement. The higher thetrophy ranks in size and symmetry, the greater should be its value as anevidence of patient and persistent chase. To slay a full grown bullmoose or wapiti in fair hunt is in these days an achievement, for thereis no royal road to success with the rifle, nor do the Happy HuntingGrounds longer exist on this continent; but to kill them by proxy, orbuy the mounted heads for decorative purposes in a dining room, infeeble imitation of the trophies of the baronial banquet hall, is notonly vulgar taste, but is helping along the extermination of theseancient types. An animal like the moose or the wapiti represents a lineof unbroken descent of vast antiquity, and the destruction of the finestmembers of the race to decorate a hallway cannot be too stronglycondemned. 

The writer desires to express his thanks for photographs and informationused in this article to Dr. J. A. Allen, of the American Museum ofNatural History, New York City; Dr. Daniel Giraud Elliot, of the FieldColumbian Museum, Chicago; and to Mr. Andrew J. Stone, the explorer. 

_Madison Grant_. 

The Creating of Game Refuges

It was my pleasant task, during the past summer, to visit a portion ofthe Forest Reserves of the United States for the purpose of studyingtracts which might be set aside as Game Refuges. To this end I wascommissioned by the Division of Biological Survey of the United StatesDepartment of Agriculture as "Game Preserve Expert, " a new title and anew function. 

The general idea of the proposed plan for the creation of Game Refugesis that the President shall be empowered to designate certain tracts, wherein there may be no hunting at all, to be set aside as refuges andbreeding grounds, and the Biological Survey is accumulating informationto be of service in selecting such areas, when the time for creatingthem shall arrive. The Forest Reserves of the United States are underthe care of the Department of the Interior, and not under theAgricultural Department, where one would naturally expect them tobe. Their transfer to the Department of Agriculture has been agitatedmore than once, and is still a result much to be desired. Althoughacting in this mission as a representative of the Biological Surveyunder the latter Department, I bore a circular letter from the Secretaryof the Interior, requesting the aid of the superintendents andsupervisors of the Forest Reserves. Through them I could always relyupon the services of a competent ranger, who acted as guide. 

Arriving in California in March, I was somewhat more than six monthsengaged in the work; in that time visiting seven reserves in Californiaand one in the State of Washington, involving a cruise of 1, 220 miles inthe saddle and on foot, within the boundaries of the forest, besides 500miles by wagon and stage. Since the addition of an extra member to theparty is ever an added risk of impaired harmony, and since the practiceof any art involving skill is always a pleasure, I employed no packerduring the entire time of my absence, but did this work myself, assistedon the off-side by Mr. Thurston, who accompanied me, and who helped inevery way within his power. May I take this opportunity to thank him foraid of many sorts, and on all occasions, and for unflagging interest inthe problem which we had before us. California has long since ceased tobe a country where the use of the pack train is a customary means oftravel. It is now an old and long settled region where the frontier liesneither to the east nor to the west, but has escaped to the vicinity oftimber line, nearly two miles straight up in the air. Comparatively fewpeople outside of the Sierra Club, that admirable open-air organizationof "the Coast, " have occasion to visit it, and such trips as they makeare of brief duration. 

Since it is not desirable to visit the high Sierras before the first ofJuly, three full months were at my disposal for the study of thereserves of southern California, a section of great interest, and of theutmost importance to the State. In southern California one hearsfrequent mention of the Pass of Tehachapi; it is the line of demarcationbetween the great valley of central California, drained by the SanJoaquin River on the north, and of southern California proper, whichlies to the south. These two regions are of very different nature. Inthe San Joaquin Valley lie the great wheat fields of California. Southof the Pass of Tehachapi, people are dependent upon irrigation. Here, too, lie wheat fields and also rich vineyards, and the precious orchardsof oranges and lemons; further south the equally valuable walnut andalmond groves. 

The seven Forest Reserves of southern California may be regarded as onealmost continuous tract embracing about 4, 000, 000 acres, lying on eitherside of the crest of the Coast Range; they are economically of enormousimportance to California, but not on account of their timber. In manycases they are forest reserves without trees; for example, the littleTrabuco Canyon Reserve, which has but a handful of Coulter pines, and onthe northern slope a few scattered spruce. The western slope of thefoothills of the San Jacinto, San Bernardino, San Gabriel, Zaca Lake andPine Mountain, and Santa Ynez reserves, are clad only in chaparral, yetthe preservation of these hillsides from fire is of vital importance tothe people, since the mantle of vegetation protects, to a certaindegree, the sources of the streams from which the supply of water isderived. In this country they believe that water is life; thus harkingback to the teaching of the Father of Philosophy, to Thales of Miletus, who lived six hundred years before Christ: "The principle of all thingsis water, all comes from water, and to water all returns. " Such trees asthere are here possess unusual interest; approaching the crest of themountains one finds a scattered growth of pines--the Coulter, ponderosa, Jeffrey's, the glorious sugar pine, the _Pinus contorta_, and_Pinus flexilis_, the single leaf or nut pine, and, in scatteredtracts, the queer little knob-cone pine. Red and white firs are found, the incense cedar, the Douglas spruce, the big cone spruce, and a numberof deciduous trees, mainly oaks of several varieties, with sycamorealong the lower creeks, and the alder tree, strikingly like the alderbush of our eastern streams and pastures, but of Gargantuan proportions, grown out of all recognition. Scattered representatives of other speciesare found--the maple, cherry, dogwood, two varieties of sumac, the yerbadel pasmo (or bastard cedar), madroños, walnut, mesquite, mountainmahogany, cottonwood, willow, ash, many varieties of bushes, also theyucca, mescal, cactus, etc. I have given but a bald enumeration ofthese; the forming of an acquaintance with so many new trees, shrubs, and flowering herbs is of great interest, and increasingly so from dayto day, as one comes to live with them in the different reserves. Thepleasure to be derived is cumulative--each acquisition of knowledgeadding to the satisfaction of that which comes after--it is of a sort, however, to be experienced in the presence of the thing itself; anydescription at a distance must necessarily be shadowy and unreal, onlythe dry bones of something which one sees there, a thing of beauty andinstinct with life. 

The characteristic feature of these southern forests is their opennature; so far as the roughness of the mountains will permit, one may goanywhere in the saddle without being hindered by underbrush. Outside oftheir limits, however, and on many hillsides within the reserves, thechaparral offers an impenetrable barrier; in some of them this growthhas captured the greater portion of their surface. The foreststhemselves are often very beautiful; growing, as they do, openly, thereis constant sunlight during many months of the year, so that all theground is warm and vibrant with energy. As a natural consequence, greatindividuality is shown in the tree forms, as different as possible fromthe gloom and severe uniformity of the Oregon and Washington forests. The former are dry, light, and cheerful; the latter, moist, dark, silent, and somewhat forbidding. The northern forests of the Coast havetheir attractive features, to be sure; they are fecund, solemn, andmajestic, but the prevailing note is not cheerfulness, as here in thesouth. 

In a paper of the present proportions it is impossible to give, exceptin outline, a report of the summer's work. I began at San JuanCapistrano, one of the old mission towns with a beautiful ruin, lyingnear the sea on the west of the Trabuco Canyon Reserve. My first cruisewas through a chaparral country on the slope overlooking the Pacific. Ilearned here of few deer and of relentless warfare against such asremain. After that, from Elsinore, strange echo of that sea-girt castlein Shakespeare's Denmark, I cruised so as to have as well anunderstanding of the eastern slope of this, the smallest of the Coastreserves. From Trabuco Peak we could study the physical geography of thenorthern half of its area. I saw here what I did not again come acrossin California--a small flock of the band-tailed pigeon, a bird as largeas the mountain quail, very handsome, indeed, and one that now should beprotected by law. These, as well as the mountain quail, swallow wholethe acorns, which this season lay beneath the live oak trees in lavishabundance; long thin acorns, quite different from ours. In the SanJacinto Reserve I made a cruise through the southern half; much of thissection is clothed in scrub oak, with scattered deer throughout. In thenorthern and more mountainous portions, on the contrary, one findshimself in the open forest, the summer range of the deer. At the time ofour visit these were at a lower altitude, in the chaparral and among thescrub oaks of the foothills. 

Going thence by rail north to Santa Barbara, I inspected the narrowstrip of the Santa Ynez Reserve, and the eastern and western sections ofthe Zaca Lake and Pine Mountain Reserve. These are under the control ofdifferent forest supervisors; they are both largely composed ofchaparral country, with scattered "pineries" on the mountains. Thehunting here is regulated, to a certain degree, by the problem of feedand water for the stock used by the hunters in gaining access to theground. Many enter these tracts from the south, as well as from theregion adjacent to Santa Barbara, and the deer have a somewhat harassedand chivied existence, although, owing to the impenetrable nature of thechaparral outside of the pineries, there is a natural limit to the powerof the sportsman to accomplish their entire extermination. The presentcontrol of hunters by the forest rangers is only tentative; naturally wehope to have in an ever-increasing degree more scientific managementboth of the deer and of those who illegally kill them. The sentiment ofthe community is enlightened, and would strengthen the hands of theGovernment in enforcing the law. At present a ranger can do little morethan maintain, so far as he can, his authority by threats--threats whichhe has not the power to enforce. 

In the San Gabriel and San Bernardino Reserves one finds himself at lastin a forest country, with mountains which command respect, a sectionfull of superb feed for the deer, feed of many sorts, for the deer havean attractive and varied bill of fare. Whole hillsides are found ofscrub oak, their chief stand-by, and of wild lilac or "deer brush, " thelatter familiar to all readers of Muir as the Cleanothus, in those longperiods of Miltonic sweep and dignity in which he summons the clans ofthe California herbs and shrubs; an enumeration as stately as theHomeric catalogue of the ships, and, to such as lack technical knowledgeof botany, imposing respect rather by sonorous appeal to the ear than byvisual suggestion to the memory. That herbs should be marshalled in soimpressive an array fills one with admiration and with somewhat of awefor these representatives of the vegetable kingdom. As Muir pronouncestheir full-sounding titles, one feels that each is a noble in thisdistinguished company. No one unprotected by a botany should have thetemerity to enter, amid these lists, alone. 

We visited this country in the season of flowers. Whole hillsides ofchámisal ("chamìz" or greasewood) bore their delicate, spirea-like, cream-colored blossoms--when seen at a distance, like a hovering breath, as unsubstantial as dew, or as the well-named bloom on a plum or blackHamburg grape. The superb yucca flaunted its glorious white standards, borne proudly aloft like those of the Roman legions, each twelve orfifteen feet in height, supporting myriads of white bells. The Mexicanscall this the "Quixote"--a noble and fitting tribute to the knight of LaMancha. The tender center of the plant, loved as food equally by man andbeast, is protected by many bristling bayonets, an ever-vigilant guard. At an altitude of seven thousand or eight thousand feet, one passedthrough acres of buckthorn, honey-fragrant, this also a favorite of thedeer, now visited by every bee and butterfly of the mountain side. It isto be noted that as one ascends the mountains the butterflies increasein numbers as well as the flowers which they so closely resemble, saveonly the latter's stationary estate. 

One sees in its perfection of color the "Indian paint brush, " with itsred of purest dye, and adjoining it solid fields of blue lupine--thecolors of Harvard and Yale, side by side, challenging birds and allcreatures of the air to a decision as to which of them bears itself themore bravely. Here is a chestnut tree; but look not overhead for itssheltering branches. This is a country of surprises, and if the aldertree towers on high, the dwarf chestnut or chinkapin here delegates tothe mountains the pains of struggling toward the heavens, and, contentedwith its lowly estate, freely offers to the various "small deer" of theforest its horde of sweet, three-cornered nuts. 

Under the pines one catches a distant gleam of the snow plant, anexquisite sharp note of color, of true Roman shade, such as Rossettiloved to introduce into his pictures, shrill like the vibrant wood ofthe flute. When a ray of the sun happens to strike this it gleams like aflaming fiery sword, symbol of that which marked the entrance toParadise. One can circumvent this guard here, and when he is in thesehills he is not far removed from a country well worth protecting by allpossible ingenuity, a paradise open to all such as love pure air andwholesome strong exercise. 

Much of the San Gabriel Reserve is rugged and well protected by natureto be the home of the deer. San Bernardino, on the contrary, is the mostaccessible of the southern reserves, with abundant feed for the horsesof those who visit it, well watered, and full of noble trees. So open isthe forest that in the hunting season much of it must be abandoned bythe deer, who are perfectly cognizant of their danger, and, withsomewhat of aid from man, are quite capable of taking care ofthemselves. 

After visiting these southern reserves, I outfitted at Redstone Park, above Visalia, in the San Joaquin Valley, and cruised through theSequoia National Park, among the big trees, at that time patrolled bycolored soldiers under the able command of Captain Young, an officer whopossesses the distinction of being the only negro graduate of WestPoint, I believe, now holding a commission in the United StatesArmy. The impression produced by the giant Sequoias is one of increasingeffect as the time among them is extended. In their province the worldhas nothing to offer more majestic and more satisfying than these trees;one must live among them to come fully beneath their charm. 

Since the National Parks and military reservations are already gamerefuges, it was of importance that I should see the Mt. Whitney MilitaryReservation, and for this purpose I crossed the Sierra Reserve, throughbroad tracts suitable for Game Refuges, thus acquiring familiarity witha large and most interesting section of forest country. From the top ofMt. Whitney, the highest bit of land in the United States, exclusive ofAlaska, one looks down two miles in altitude to Owen's Lake almostdirectly beneath. I picked up, on the plateau of the summit, a bit ofobsidian Indian chipping, refutation in itself of the frequentlyrepeated statement that Indians do not climb high peaks. A month wasspent with great profit in and about the Sierra Reserve, and one mightgo there many summers, ever learning something new. 

Having seen these southern reserves, and desiring to bring home with mean impression of the northern woods, sharpened by immediate contrast, Inext visited that one which is the most to the northwest of them all, the Olympic Reserve in Washington. Here, at the head of the ElwhaValley, near Mt. Olympus, we lived among the glaciers. The forestbetween the headwaters and the sea affords a superb contrast toCalifornia; here are found fog and moisture, and super-abounding heavyvegetation. In the thick shade grow giant ferns of tropicluxuriance. The rhododendron thrives, its black glossy leaves a symbolof richly nourished power. The devil's club flaunts aloft its brightberries, and poisonously wounds whomsoever has the misfortune even totouch its great prickly leaves, nearly as big as an elephant's ear; ifthere be a malignant old rogue of the vegetable kingdom, this is he, sharing with the wait-a-bit thorn of Africa an evil eminence. Many newplants meet the eye, a wealth of berries--the Oregon grape, the salmonberry, red or yellow, as big as the yolk of an egg, the salal berry, anyquantity of blueberries, huckleberries, both red and blue, sarvisberries, bear berries, mountain ash berries (also loved of bears), thimble berries, high bush cranberries, gooseberries--large andinsipid--currants, wild cherries, choke cherries; many of these friendsof old, others seen here for the first time, dainty picking in theautumn for deer, bears, foxes, squirrels and many birds. Whatparticularly appealed to me was a wild apple, no larger than the eye ofa hawk, but quite able to survive in a fierce contest for life, and witha pleasant, clean, sharp taste, very tonic to the palate, and withdiminutive rosy cheeks as tempting as a stout Baldwin--a fine, courageous little product of the wild life, symbol of the energeticquality of the Olympic air. I, for one, am a firm believer in the axiomthat a climate which will give the right "tang" to an apple will alsoproduce determined and energetic men; this whole region, spite of itsfogs, has a glorious future before it. Superb firs towered hundreds offeet above our heads, and archaic-looking cedars, a thousand years old, thrust their sturdy shoulders firmly against the storms and thewinds. But the valleys, the trees and the glaciers, were only the_mise-en-scène_ of that which constituted primarily the reason ofmy visiting this peninsula. Here is the only wild herd of elk of anyconsiderable size outside of the Yellowstone National Park, a mostbeautiful elk now separated from the Rocky Mountain species. Besidesthis herd there are only a few survivors of the once innumerable herdsof the Pacific Coast, one little bunch in California, and a fewscattered individuals in the mountains of Oregon and Washington. It isexcessively hard to form any correct estimate of how many remain;probably there are at least a thousand, possibly several times thatnumber. At all events, there is a scattered herd large enough to insurethe existence of the species if they might now be protected. Unfortunatelythe sentiment of the community in the vicinity of the Olympics is justabout what it was in Colorado in the seventies and in the earlyeighties--almost complete apathy, so far as taking effective precautionis concerned, to prevent the killing of these animals in violation of thelaw. I saw one superb herd south of the headwaters of the Elwha, and wasinformed that in the winter a large number come lower down into the valleyof that river; here and elsewhere the finest specimens are slaughtered byhead-hunters for the market, and by anyone, in fact, who may covet theirhides or meat or their "tusks, " now unfortunately very valuable. 

Presumably, in so killing them, picked specimens are selected. Of coursethe finest bulls may not thus be systematically eliminated withoutcausing the general deterioration of the herd. Nature's method ofprogress is by the survival of the fittest. Man reverses this so soonas cupidity makes him the foe of wild animals. The country here is anexcessively hard one to get about in with stock, owing to its veryrugged nature and to the scarcity of feed, so that there is slightdanger of the extermination of these elk by sportsmen during the openseason. In the winter, however, the hunters have them at their mercy. Iwas assured by one very level-headed man that, in the winter of 1902-3, two men killed seventeen elk from the Elwha herd. Since the individualswho killed the elk are well known and are practically unmolested, theimmunity which they enjoy tempts others to similar violation of thelaw. More recently still, during this last winter, the game warden ofWashington reports the finding of the carcasses of nineteen elk, killedfor their tusks. 

This country, with its splendid glaciers and mountains covered withsnow, presents quite the most beautiful scenery to be found within thelimits of the United States, exclusive of Alaska, and, before manyyears, is destined to become a place of general resort fortravelers. For this to be accomplished, all that is needed is greaterfacility of travel. It would be a thousand pities if we should toleratethe extermination of the elk, which would afford delight to every onewho visited the Olympics, if only the herd might be preserved. One canhardly blame the hunters for taking advantage of the laxity of publicsentiment. The State has it within its power easily to protect theseanimals by the employment of two or three game detectives of the rightsort--keen, energetic men. These would soon break up the illicit trafficand bring the offenders to justice. The people of the whole Pacificseaboard, who are justly proud of their region, and of every traitpeculiarly its own, would bitterly lament the final disappearance of elkfrom this whole countryside, yet the fact remains that hardly a voicethere, outside of the organization of the "Elks, " is raised to protestagainst these flagrant acts of vandalism which are taking place beneaththeir very eyes. 

This visit to the northern forest was full of varied and commandinginterest, but the chief occupation of my summer, when all is said, waswith California. 

Deer are practically the only game to be considered in these southernCalifornia reserves. There are mountain sheep to the east, in themountains of the Mojave and Colorado deserts, but they are almostunmolested by the hunters of the seaboard country, and, except in rareinstances, are no longer found in the reserves. Occasionally odd onesare seen, venturesome, determined individuals, on their travels, in theenergy of youthful maturity, tempted by curiosity, but these soonrealize that they are not secure where so many humans abound, and scurryback to their desert fastnesses. As refuges are created and breedinggrounds established, sheep will return, and, it is hoped, make theirpermanent home in the reserves. There are still enough of them inscattered places for this purpose. I was told of one method of huntingin the desert hills, sometimes resorted to by Indians and white men ofthe baser sort, that seems hateful and unsportsmanlike. The springs atwhich they drink are long distances apart. In some instances the allegedsportsmen camp by these and watch them without intermission for threedays and nights, at the end of which period, when the sheep areexhausted by thirst, the hunter has them at his mercy. This has nearlyas much to commend it to the self-respecting sportsman as the practiceof imitating the cry of the female moose to lure the bull to madrecklessness and his undoing, a challenge hard for a courageous animalto resist, a treacherous snare set before his feet. It would seem as ifa right-minded man would hesitate to take so base an advantage as byeither of these two methods of hunting. 

Antelope are nearly exterminated in southern California, and there isbut a single little bunch of elk--those in the San Joaquin Valley, solesurvivors of the vast herds which ranged throughout those lowlands whenFremont came to the country in 1845. These elk are smaller than those ofthe mountains, and bear a striking resemblance to the Scotch red deer, so familiar to us in Landseer's pictures. For years they have beenprotected by the generosity and wisdom of one man, now no longer young, an altogether public-spirited and generous act. I was taken by themanager of this ranch to see these elk as they came at night to feed inthe alfalfa fields, and again in the morning we followed their trailinto the foothills and had a capital view of seven superb bulls in theirwild estate, as pretty a sight as one might see in California. Who canfeel ought save commiseration for a man who, standing on London bridge, could say, "Earth has not anything to show more fair"?

Twice during the summer was I told of the presence in the mountains, bymen who thought they had seen them, of the mythical ibex. My informant, in each instance a ranger, assured me that he had had a good look at theanimal, and was sure that it was not a mountain ram. The back-curvinghorns he said were "as long as his forearm, " one added instance of thefact that a fish in the brook is worth two on the string--if a goodstory be at stake! What my informant had seen, of course, was a ewe, oryoung mountain ram before he had arrived at the age when the horns beginto form their characteristic spiral. As for the great size of the horns, the animal was running away, and every hunter is aware of the enormousproportions which the antlers attain of an escaping elk or deer. Howthey suddenly shrink when the beast is shot is another story. 

Incidentally, the refuges of southern California will include thebreeding places of the trout in the upper reaches of the streams, andwill afford protection to grouse, quail, and other birds, but primarilytheir purpose is to prevent the extermination of big game. In Californiathis has gone as far as it is safe to go if we are to save theremnant. Even the California grizzly has been killed off so relentlesslythat it was a question, when I was there, whether a single pair survivedwhich might possibly in that State preserve the species. The ranger whoknew the most about this was of the opinion that two or three were stillleft alive. He had seen their tracks within a year. [11] There are, Ihave been assured, others in Oregon. 

[Footnote 11: I have been informed since the above was written that hesaw the tracks of a single grizzly after I was there, toward the end ofJuly. ]

If I had my way, the first act in creating a game refuge should be toinsure the survival of the few that remain. These bears are pitifullywary as compared with their former bold and domineering attitude; theywould gladly keep out of harm's way if only they might be allowed to doso. It is time, it seems to me, to call a truce to man's hostility tothem, once a foe not to be despised. Now they are so completelyconquered that man owes it to himself not too relentlessly to pursue avanquished enemy. When we think of the enormous period of time, involving millions of years, required to develop a creature of suchgigantic strength as the California grizzly, so splendidly equipped towin his living and to maintain his unquestioned supremacy--the Sequoiaof the animal kingdom of America--and when we contemplate this creatureas the very embodiment of vitality in the wild life, we shall notwantonly permit him to be exterminated, and thus deprive those who areto come after us of seeing him alive, and of seeing him where hispresence adds a fine note of distinction to the landscape, a fittingadjunct to the glacier-formed ravines of the Sierras. 

The domestic sheep, which were once the prey of the bears, no longerrange in these forests, and so far as the depredation of bears amongcattle is concerned, it is of so trifling a nature as practically not toexist. It would seem that a nation of so vast wealth as ours couldafford to indulge in an occasional extravagance, such as keeping alivethese few remaining bears; of maintaining them at the public expensesimply for the gratification of curiosity, of a quite legitimatecuriosity on the part of those who love the wild life, and every lastvanishing trait that remains of its old, keen energy. So far as dangerto man is involved by their presence, the experience in the YellowstoneNational Park is that there is no such danger; when allowed to do so, they draw their rations as meekly as a converted Apache; if they err atall, it is on the side of exaggerated and rather pitiful humility. 

It is mainly with the deer, however, that we are concerned. It is out ofthe question for any thinking man who takes the slightest interest inthese creatures to stand passively by and permit them to beexterminated. To prevent such a catastrophe proper measures must betaken. The hunting community increases with as great rapidity as thatwith which game decreases. Where one man hunted twenty-five years ago, ascore hunt for big game to-day. Unfortunately it has become thefashion. It is a diversion involving no danger and, for those thatunderstand it, but slight hardship. If people are to continue to havethis source of amusement, some well matured and concerted plan must bedevised to insure the continuance of game. Never in the past history ofthe world has man held at his command the same potential control of wildbeasts as now, the same power to concentrate against them the forces ofscience. Man's supremacy has advanced by leaps and bounds, while theanimal's power to escape remains unchanged; all the conditions for theirsurvival constantly become more difficult. Man has, in its perfection, the rapid-firing rifle, which, with the use of smokeless powder, giveshim an enormous increase of effectiveness in its flat trajectory. Thisis quite as great an element of its destructiveness as its more deadlypower and capacity for quick shooting, since it eliminates the necessityfor accurately gauging distance, one of the hardest things for theamateur hunter to learn. If man so desires, he can command the aid ofdogs. By their power of scent he has wild animals at his mercy, andunless he deliberately regulates the slaughter which he will permit, their entire extermination would be a matter of only a few years. Onlyat the end of the last year we were told of the celebration in the Tyrolof the killing, by the Emperor of Austria, of his two thousandthchamois. Eight years ago this same record was achieved by anotherAustrian, a Grand Duke. This was in both instances, as I understand, bythe means of fair and square stalking, quite different from the methodsof the more degenerate battue. At a single shooting exhibition of thislatter sort by the Crown Prince of Germany at his estate in Schleswig, on one day in December last, were killed two hundred and ten fallowdeer, three hundred and forty-one red deer, and on the day following, eighty-seven large wild boar, one hundred and twenty-six small ones, eighty-six fallow deer, and two hundred and one red deer. Any man, private citizen as well as emperor or prince, has it within his power, if he be possessed of the blood craze, to kill scores and hundreds ofevery kind of game. By the facilities of rapid travel the hunter, withthe least possible sacrifice of time, is transported with whatever ofluxury a Pullman car can confer (luxury to him who likes it) to thehaunts and almost within the very sanctuaries of game. Where formerlyan expedition of months was required, now in a few days' time he iscarried to the most out-of-the-way places, to the barrens, the forests, the peaks, the mountain glades--almost to the muskeg and the tundra. 

How far the rage for hunting has captured the community in this countryof the western seaboard it is surprising to learn. In the year 1902there were issued for the seven forest reserves south of the Pass ofTehachapi, a tract three-quarters the size of Massachusetts, fourthousand permits to hunt. Inasmuch as one permit may admit more than asingle person to the privileges of hunting, it was estimated that atleast five thousand people bearing rifles entered the reserves. Thisbesides the enormous horde of the peaceably disposed who also seekdiversion here, and who naturally disturb the deer to a certainextent. The supervisor of two reserves--the San Gabriel and SanBernardino--embracing a tract less than half the size of Connecticut, assured me that in 1902 sixty thousand persons entered within theirborders; in the summer of 1903 this number was estimated at no less thanten thousand in excess of the previous year. In these two reserves thenumber of permits for rifles and revolvers issued between June 1 andDecember 31, increased from 1, 900 in the year 1902, to 3, 483 in 1903, and as, in some cases, these were issued for two or more persons, thesupervisor estimates that at least 4, 500 rifles were carried last summerinto these two reserves. He was of the opinion that two-thirds of thesewere borne by hunters, the remainder as protection against bears andother ferocious wild beasts, which exist only in imagination. [12]

[Footnote 12: "Relative to the figures for game permits, and the reasonfor the larger number issued for 1903 over 1902, I cannot myselfaltogether explain the large increase. One reason, however, was that ourrainfall for the winter of 1902-3 was very large compared with that ofthe five previous winters. As a result grass and feed were plentiful, and attracted many more travelers and hunters, who figured that gamewould be much more plentiful owing to the abundance of feed. I believethat this was the principal reason why so many obtained permits. Theabundant rain made camping more pleasant, as it started up springs whichhad been dry for several years. I believe that this very thing, however, also tended to protect the game as it permitted them to scatter morethan for several years before, as water was more abundant. With all theincrease in guns and hunters I do not think that any more deer werekilled than during the summer of 1902. " (Letter from Forest Supervisor, Mr. Everett B. Thomas, Los Angeles, Feb. 13, 1904. ) It is to be notedthat in the southern California reserves, on the ground of precautionagainst forest fires, no shotguns may be carried into the reserves. As aresult quail have greatly increased in numbers. ]

It is to be borne in mind that all through this California country thereexists a race of hunters--active, determined men, who passionately lovethis diversion. The people there have not been so long graduated as weof the Atlantic Coast from the conditions of the frontier. The ozone ofa new country stirs more quickly the predatory instinct, never quitedead in any virile race. The rifle slips easily from its scabbard, andthere in plain sight before them are the forest-clad mountains, a mileabove their heads, in the cool and vital air, ever beckoning the hunterto be up and away. These people feel in their blood the call of thewild. With a very considerable proportion of the people upon farms, andstill more in villages and small towns, the Fall hunt is the commandinginterest of the year. This is the one athletic contest into which theyenter heart and soul; it is foot-ball and yachting and polo and horseracing combined. For a young man to go into the forest after deer andto come back empty-handed, is to lose prestige to a certain extent amonghis fellows. Oftentimes, when a beginner returns in this wayunsuccessful, he is so unmercifully chaffed by his companions that hementally records a vow not to be beaten a second time, and, when hefinds himself again in the forest for his annual hunt, with theenthusiasm of youth, he would almost rather die than be defeated. 

How hard the conditions are for the hunter no one would believe who hasnot himself seen the country. In many places the hills are covered withan almost impenetrable chaparral of scrub oak, buckthorn, greasewood, manzanita, and deer-brush, in which the wary deer have taken refuge. Inand through these, guided sometimes by the tracks of the deer, orencouraged by the presence of such tracks even if he cannot follow them, up steep mountains, exposed to the heat of the sun, in dust, over rocks, and without water, toils the hunter, who accounts himself lucky if, bytramping scores of miles through this sort of impediment, he succeeds, after days of toil, in killing his deer. Perhaps he has been withoutfresh meat for a week or a fortnight, and often on short commons; is itto be wondered at that when a shot offers he avails himself of theopportunity even if it be a doe that he fires at? How can the deerwithstand such concentration of fury?

Dr. Bartlett, Forest Supervisor of the Trabuco and San Jacinto Reserves, assured me that the number of licenses to hunt in those two reservesissued annually exceeded, in his opinion, the entire number of deerwithin their boundaries. 

Everyone now is ready to admit that the extermination of the herd ofbuffalo in the seventies was permitted by a crude, short-sighted policyon our part as a nation, and should we of the early twentieth centuryallow the remaining deer, elk, mountain sheep, and antelope, the last ofthe great bears, and the innumerable small creatures of the wild, to becrowded off the face of the earth, we should be depriving our childrenand our children's children of a satisfaction and of a source ofinterest which they would keenly regret. It would be well if we bore inmind that we stand in a sort of fiduciary relation to the people who areto come after us, so far as the wild portion of our land is concerned, those few remote tracts still untarnished by man's craze to converteverything in the world, or beneath the surface of the earth, intodollars for his own immediate profit. He has the same short-sightedpolicy in his hunting. He is content to gratify the impulse of the hourwithout thought of those who are to spend their lives here when we haveled our brief careers and have gone to a well merited oblivion, to reapour reward--

Heads without names, no more remembered. 

Let us look this matter squarely in the face. We are the inheritors ofthese domains. It is one of the most precious assets of posterity. Here, year by year, in steadily increasing proportion, as wisdom moreprevails, will men take comfort; and as the comprehension of nature'scharms penetrates their minds will they find content. One chiefsatisfaction that every American feels from the mere fact of hisnationality is the full assurance in his heart that any measure foundedon sound reason and prompted by generous impulse will receive, if notimmediate acceptance, at all events eventual recognition. In the endjustice will prevail. Thus, in this matter before us, it will naturallytake a few years for Congress to realize that a genuine demand existsfor the creation of these refuges in every State, East as well as West, but the interest in wild creatures, and the desire for their protection, if not a clamorous demand, is one almost universally felt. All men, except a meager few of the dwarfed and strictly city-bred, partake ofthis, and it is so much a sign of the times that no Sunday edition iscomplete without its column devoted to wild creatures, their traits, their habits, or their eccentricities. One could hardly name, outside ofmoney-making and politics, an interest which all men more generallyshare. 

Every lad is a born naturalist, and the true wisdom, as all sensiblepeople know, is to carry unfatigued through life the boy's power ofenjoyment, his freshness of perception, his alertness and zest. Wherethe child's capacity for close observation survives into manhood, supplemented by man's power of sustained attention, we have the typicaltemperament of the lover of the woods, the mountains, and the wild--ofthe naturalist in the sense that Thoreau was a naturalist, and manyanother whose memory is cherished. 

It is not impossible for a man to be deeply learned and still to lackthe power of awakening enthusiasm in others; as a matter of fact, to beso heavily freighted with information that he forgets to nourish his ownfiner faculties, his intuition, his sympathy, and his insight. One musthave lived for a time in the California mountains to realize how greatis the service to the men of his own and to succeeding generations ofhim who more than any one else has illuminated the study of the Sierrasand of all our forest-clad mountains, our glacier-formed hills, valleysand glades. Not by any means do all lovers of nature, however faithfultheir purpose, come to its study with the endowment of John Muir. In himwe see the trained faculties of the close and accurate observer, joinedto the temperament of the poet--the capacity to think, to see and tofeel--and by the power of sustained and strong emotion to make us thesharers of his joy. The beauty and the majesty of the forest to himconfer the same exaltation of mind, the same intellectual transport, which the trained musician feels when listening to the celestialharmonies of a great orchestra. In proportion as one conceives, or canimagine, the fineness of the musical endowment of a Bach or Beethoven, and in proportion as he can realize in his own mind the infinity oftraining and preparation which has contributed to the development ofsuch a master musician--in such proportion may he comprehend andappreciate the unusual qualities and achievements of a man like Muir. Hewill realize to some degree--indistinctly to be sure, "seeing men astrees walking"--the infinity of nice and accurate observation, thediscriminating choice of illustration, the infallible tact and unvaryingsureness with which he holds our interest, and the dominant poeticinsight into the nature of things, which are spread before the reader inlavish abundance, in Muir's two books, "The Mountains of California" and"Our National Parks. " No other books, in this province, by livingauthor offer to the reader so rich a feast. Recognizing the fineendowments of Thoreau, and how greatly all are his debtors, still we ofthis generation are lucky in having one greater than he among us, ifwisdom of life and joyousness be the criterion of a sound and of a sanephilosophy. The time will come when this will be generally recognized. The verdict of posterity is the right one, and the love of mankind isgiven throughout the centuries to the men of insight, who possess therare mental endowment of sustained pleasure. Call it perpetual youth, orjoyousness, or what you like, the fact remains that the power ofsustained enthusiasm, lightness of heart and gaiety, with the faculty ofcommunicating to others that state of mind, is not one of the commonestendowments of the human brain. It is one that confers great happiness toothers, and one to whose possessor we are under great obligation. Compare the career of Thoreau, lonely, sad, and wedded to death--on theone hand, with that of Muir, on the other--a lover of his kind, healthful, inspiring to gaiety, superabounding in vitality. Naturalists of this typeof mind, and so faithful in perfecting the talents entrusted to them, donot often appear in any age. 

In the designations of refuges for deer, various questions are to beconsidered, such as abundance of food, proximity to water, suitableshelter, an exposure to their liking, for they may be permitted to havewhims in a matter of this sort, just as fully as Indians or theresidents of the city, when they deign to honor the country by theirpresence. The deer feel that they are entitled to a certain remoteabsence from molestation; moderate hunting will not entirely discouragethem--a dash of excitement might prove rather entertaining to a youngbuck with a little recklessness in his temperament--but unless a deer beclad in bullet-proof boiler iron, there are ranges in the reserves ofsouthern California where he would never dare to show his face duringthe open season--regular rifle ranges. Where very severely hunted, likethe road agent, they "take to the brush, " that is, hide in thechaparral. This is almost impenetrable. It is very largely composed ofscrub oak, buckthorn, chámisal or greasewood, with a scattered growth ofwild lilac, wild cherry, etc. So far as the deer make this theirpermanent home, there is no fear of their extermination. They may behunted effectively only with the most extreme caution. Not one person ina thousand ever attains to the level of a still-hunter whoseaccomplishment guarantees him success under such conditions. There aremen of this sort, but these are artists in their pursuit, whoseattainments, like those of the professional generally, are beyondcomparison with those of the ordinary amateur. To hunt successfully inthe chaparral, requires a special genius. One must have exhaustlesspatience, tact trained by a lifetime of this sort of work, perseveranceincapable of discouragement, the silence of an Indian, and in thisphrase--when we are dealing with the skill of one who can make progresswithout sound through the tangles of the dry and stiff Californiachaparral--is involved an exercise of skill comparable only to thefineness of touch of a Joachim or a St. Gaudens. This sort of huntermarks one end of the scale of perfection; near the other and morefamiliar extreme is found the individual of whom this story is told. Hewas an Englishman and had just returned from a trip into the jungle ofIndia after big game, where he was accompanied by a guide, most expertin his profession. One of the sportsman's friends asked this man how hisemployer shot while on the trip. His reply was a model of tact andconcise statement: "He shot divinely, but God was very merciful to theanimals. "

He who reads this brief account may naturally ask: What were thepractical results of your Western trip? Have you any ideas which may beof value in the solution of this problem of Game Refuges? My primaryconception of the duties of a Game Expert, sent out by a Bureau of aUnited States Department, was to approach this entire subject withoutpreconceived theories, with an open and unbiased mind; to see as many ofthe various reserves as possible, under the guidance of the best men tobe had, and, increasing in this manner my knowledge by every availablemeans, to reserve the period of general consideration and of specificrecommendation until the whole preliminary reconnoissance should beaccomplished. The thing of prime importance is that the game expertshould see the reserves, and see them thoroughly. In a measure of suchscope what we desire is a well thought-out plan, based on knowledge ofthe actual conditions, knowledge acquired in the field for the futureuse of him who has acquired it. No report can transfer to the mind ofanother an impression thus derived. 

I had been but a short time engaged in this campaign of education beforeit seemed wise to abandon the limitations imposed by traveling inwagons; these held one to the valleys and to the dusty ways ofmen. After that emancipation I lived in the haunts of the deer, traveling with a pack train, and cruising in about the same altitudeaffected by that most thoroughbred of all the conifers, the sugarpine. Trust the genius of that tree, the pine, of all those that grow onany of the mountains of North America, of finest power, beauty, individuality, and distinction, to select the most attractive altitudefor its home, the daintiest air, the air fullest of strong vitality anddetermination, whether man or deer is to participate in the virtues ofthe favored zone. Many a time I went far beyond the region of the sugarpine, and not infrequently cruised beneath its lower limits. 

What that tree loves is a zone of about four thousand feet in widthextending from three to seven thousand feet above the level of the sea. The upper reaches of this belt are where the deer range during the openseason of the summer when they must be afforded protection. These weretraversed with care, and seen with as much thoroughness aspossible. More of the reserves might easily have been visited in otherStates, had I been content to do this in a sketchy and cursory manner, but my idea was to derive the greatest possible amount of instructionfor a definite specific purpose, and it seemed to me for theaccomplishment of this end to be essential that one should spend asufficiently long time in each forest to receive a strong impression ofits own peculiar and distinctive nature, to get an idea into one's head, which would stick, of its individuality, and, if I may say so, of itspersonal features and idiosyncrasies. Not until more than three monthshad been spent in the faithful execution of this plan was the problemstudied from any other view than that refuges were to be created ofconsiderable size, and that their lines of demarcation would naturallybe formed by something easily grasped by the eye, either rivers or thecrests of mountain ranges. 

After the lapse of that time, looking at this from every point of view, it became my opinion that the ideal solution was the creation of manysmall refuges rather than the establishment of a few large ones. To beeffective, the size of these ranges should not be less than ten milessquare; if slightly larger, so much the better. Should, therefore, these be of about four townships each, the best results would beobtained. The bill for the creation of Game Refuges after it had passedthe Senate, and as amended by the Committee on Public Lands of the Houseof Representatives, in the spring of 1903, read:

"The President of the United States is hereby authorized to designatesuch areas in the public Forest Reserves, _not exceeding one in eachState or Territory_, as should, in his opinion, be set aside for theprotection of game animals, birds, and fish, and be recognized as abreeding place therefor. "

If this bill were to become law in its present form, the object forwhich it was created would be largely defeated. One may easily overlookthe fact that an area corresponding to that of California would, on theAtlantic Coast, extend from Newport, R. I. , to Charleston, S. C. Itembraces communities and interests in many respects as widely separatedas those of New England and the Atlantic Southern States. Were one GameRefuge only to be created in the State of California, unless it includedpractically the whole of the reserves south of Tehachapi, protectionwould not be afforded to the different species of large a constantlyincreasing population, and an ever-increasing interest in big-gamehunting. The designation of one Game Refuge in the Sierra Reserve wouldpractically not reduce the slaughter of deer in this whole vast regionof southern California. Were the single Game Refuge, which might underthe law be designated, to be placed in southern California, evenalthough it embraced the entire area of the seven southern reserves, itwould not aid to any great extent in preventing the extinction of gamein the region of the Sierra Reserve, of the Stanislaus Reserve, or ofthe great reserves which are doubtless soon to be created in thenorthern half of the State. A bill so conceived would not fulfill thepurpose of its creation. 

[Illustration: TEMISKAMING MOOSE. ]

There are just as cogent reasons of a positive nature why many smallrefuges are preferable to a few large ones. It is said that in thevicinity of George Vanderbilt's game preserves at Biltmore, NorthCarolina, deer, when started by dogs even fifteen or twenty miles away, will seek shelter within the limits of that protected forest, knowingperfectly well that once within its bounds they will not bedisturbed. The same may be observed in the vicinity of the YellowstoneNational Park; the bears, for instance, a canny folk, and shrewd to readthe signs of the times, seem to be well aware that they are not to bedisturbed near the hotels, and they show themselves at such placeswithout fear; at the same time that outside the Park (and when the earlysnow is on the ground their tracks are often observed going both out andin) these same beasts are very shy indeed. The hunter soon discoversthat it is with the greatest difficulty that one ever sees them at alloutside of the bounds of the Park. Bears, as well as deer, adaptthemselves to the exigencies of the situation; the grizzly, since thewhite man stole from him and the Indian the whole face of the earth, hasbecome a night-ranging instead of a diurnal creature. The deer, we maysafely rest assured, makes quite as close a study of humans as man doesof the deer. It is a question of life and death with them that theyshould understand him and his methods. Both the deer and the hunterswould profit by the widest possible distribution of these protectedareas. Each section of the State is entitled to the benefit to bederived from their presence in its vicinity. Moreover, and I believethat this is a consideration of no slight moment, the creation of manysmall refuges, not too close together, would obviate one greatdifficulty which threatens to wreck the entire scheme. There haveappeared signs of opposition in certain quarters to the creation in thevarious reserves of game refuges by Federal power on the ground thatthis would be to surrender to the Government at Washington authoritywhich should be solely exercised by the State. In a certain sense it isthe old issue of State rights. Where this feeling exists it is adheredto with extraordinary tenacity, and it is as catching as the measles;just so soon as one State takes this stand, another is liable to raisethe same issue. They are jealous of any power except their own whichwould close from hunting to their citizens considerable portions of theforest reserves within the confines of the State. Their claim is that byan abuse of such delegated power, a President of the United Statesmight, if so inclined, shut out the citizens from hunting at all in theforest reserves of their own State. This argument is not an easy one towave aside. Should, however, the size of the individual refuges belimited to four townships each, and the minimum distance between suchrefuges be defined, one grave objection to these refuges would beovercome, and the citizens of the various States would cooperate withFederal authority to accomplish that which the sentiment at home in manyinstances is not at present sufficiently enlightened to demand, andwhich by reason of party differences the State legislatures arepowerless to effect. 

[Illustration: TEMISKAMING MOOSE. ]

Having elaborated in one's mind the idea that a Game Refuge, in order tobe a success, should be about ten or twelve miles square, the questionarises, how near are these to be placed to one another? If they areestablished at the beginning, not less than twenty or twenty-five milesfrom each other, it seems to me that the exigencies of the situationwould be met. It is not our purpose, in creating them, seriously tointerfere with the privileges of hunters adjoining the forests wherethey are established. On the contrary, all that is wished is topreserve the present number of the deer, or to allow them slightly toincrease. The system of game refuges of the size indicated, would, Ibelieve, accomplish this end. In all probability, at the beginning ofthe open season, the deer would be distributed with a considerabledegree of uniformity throughout the reserve, outside of the game refugesas well as within. They would go, of course, where the food andconditions suited them. As the hunting season opened, and the game, in adouble sense, become more lively, the deer would naturally seek shelterwhere they could find it. Since this, with them, would be a questionliterally of vital interest, their education would progress rapidly, particularly that of the wary old bucks, experienced in danger whichthey had survived in the past simply because their bump of caution waswell developed, these would soon realize that they were safe within thebounds of a certain tract--that there the sound of the rifle was neverheard, that there far less frequently they ran across the hateful scentof their enemies, and for some mysterious reason were left to their owndevices. When once this idea has found firm lodgment in the head of anastute deer, the very first thing that he will do will be to get into anasylum of this sort, and to stay there; if he has any business totransact beyond its boundaries, exactly as an Indian would do in similarcircumstances, he will delegate the same to a young buck who is on hispromotion, and has his reputation to make, and who possesses theuntarnished courage of ignorance and youth. It seems to me that thissystem of small refuges would have the merit of fairness both to thehunters and to the deer, and it is respectfully submitted to thelegislators of the United States. This may seem one of the simplest ofsolutions, and hardly worth a summer's cruise to discover. It may provethat this is not the first occasion when the simplest solution is thebest. Because a thing is simple it is not always the case, however, that it finds the most ready acceptance. If, in my humble capacity ofpublic service, I am the indirect means of this being accomplished, Ishall feel that my summer's work was not altogether in vain. 

_Alden Sampson_. 

[Illustration: TEMISKAMING MOOSE. ]

Temiskaming Moose

The accompanying photographs of moose were taken about the middle ofJuly, 1902, on the Montreal river, which flows from the Ontario sideinto Lake Temiskaming. 

A number of snap shots were obtained during the three days' stay in thisvicinity, but the others were at longer range and the animals appearvery small in the negative. 

As is well known, during the hot summer months the moose are often to befound feeding on the lily pads or cooling themselves in the water, beingdriven from the bush where there are heat, mosquitoes and flies. 

Not having been shot at nor hunted, all the moose at this time seemedrather easy to approach. Two of these pictures are of one bull, and theother two of one cow, the two animals taken on different occasions. Igot three snaps of each before they were too far away. When firstsighted, each was standing nibbling at the lily pads, and the finalspurt in the canoe was made in each case while the animal stood withhead clear under the water, feeding at the bottom. The distance of eachof the first photographs taken was from 45 to 55 feet. 

_Paul J. Dashiell. _

[Illustration: A KAHRIGUR TIGER. ]

Two Trophies from India

In the early part of March, 1898, my friend, Mr. E. Townsend Irvin, andI arrived at the bungalow of Mr. Younghusband, who was Commissioner ofthe Province of Raipur, in Central India. Mr. Younghusband very kindlygave us a letter to his neighbor, the Rajah of Kahrigur, who furnishedus with shikaris, beaters, bullock carts, two ponies and an elephant. Wehad varied success the first three weeks, killing a bear, severalnilghai, wild boar and deer. 

One afternoon our beaters stationed themselves on three sides of a rockyhill and my friend and I were placed at the open end some two hundredyards apart. The beaters had hardly begun to beat their tom toms andyell, when a roar came from the brow of the hill, and presently a largetiger came out from some bushes at the foot. He came cantering along ina clumsy fashion over an open space, affording us an excellent shot, andwhen he was broadside on we both fired, breaking his back. He could notmove his hind legs, but stood up on his front paws. Approaching closer, we shot him in a vital spot. 

The natives consider the death of a tiger cause for general rejoicing, and forming a triumphal procession amid a turmoil such as only Indianbeaters can make, they carried the dead tiger to camp. 

One morning word was brought to our camp, at a place called Bernara, that a tiger had killed a buffalo, some seven miles away. The nativeshad built a bamboo platform, called _machan_, in a tree by thekill, and we stationed ourselves on this in the late afternoon. Contraryto custom, the tiger did not come back to his kill until after the sunhad set. The night was cloudy and very dark, and although several timeswe distinctly heard the tiger eating the buffalo, we could not seeit. At about midnight we were extremely stiff, and not hearing anysound, we returned to our temporary camp; but on the advice of an oldshikari I returned with him to the _machan_ to wait untildaylight. Being tired, I fell asleep, but an hour before dawn the Hinduwoke me, as the clouds had cleared away and the moon was shiningbrightly. I heard a munching sound, and could dimly discern a yellowform by the buffalo, and taking a long aim I fired both barrels of myrifle. I heard nothing except the scuttling off of the hyenas andjackals that had been attracted by the dead buffalo, so I slept againuntil daylight, when, to my surprise, I saw a dead leopard by thebuffalo. He had come to the kill after the tiger had finished his meal. 

_John H. Prentice_. 

[Illustration: INDIAN LEOPARD. ]

Big-Game Refuges

Since the inception of the Boone and Crockett Club its plans andpurposes have changed not a little. Originally organized for socialpurposes, for the encouragement of big-game hunting, and the procuringof the most effective weapons with which to secure the game, it has, little by little, come to be devoted to the broader object of benefitingthis and succeeding generations by preserving a stock of large game. Itis still made up of enthusiastic riflemen, and their love of the chasehas not abated. But, since the Club's formation, an astonishing changehas come over natural conditions in the United States--a change which, fifteen or twenty years ago, could not have been foreseen. Theextraordinary development of the whole Western country, with theinevitable contraction of the range of all big game, and the absolutereduction in the numbers of the game consequent on its destruction byskin hunters, head hunters and tooth hunters, has obliged the Boone andCrockett Club, in absolute self-defense, and in the hope that itsefforts may save some of the species threatened with extinction, to turnits attention more and more to game protection. 

The Club was established in 1888. The buffalo had already been sweptaway. Since that date two species of elk have practically disappearedfrom the land, one being still represented by a few individuals whichfor some years have been preserved from destruction by a Californiacattle company; the other, found only in the Southwest, in territory nowincluded within the Black Mesa forest reservation, may be, perhaps, without a single living representative. Over a vast extent of theterritory which the antelope once inhabited, it has ceased to exist; andso speedy and so wholesale has been its disappearance that most of theWestern States, slow as they always are to interfere with the privilegesof their citizens to kill and destroy at will, have passed laws eitherwholly protecting it or, at least, limiting the number to be killed in aseason to one, two or three. In 1888 no one could have conceived thatthe diminution of the native large game of America would be what it hasproved to be within the past fifteen years. 

[Illustration: THE NEW BUFFALO HERD IN YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK]

That the game stock may re-establish itself in certain localities, theClub has advocated the establishment in the various forest reserves ofgame refuges, where absolutely no hunting shall be permitted. 

Through the influence of William Hallett Phillips, a deceased member ofthe Club, a few lines inserted in an act passed by Congress March 3, 1891, permitted the establishment of forest reserves, and Hon. JohnW. Noble, then Secretary of the Interior, at once recommended theapplication of the law to a number of forest tracts, which wereforthwith set aside by Presidential proclamation. Since then, more andmore forest reserves have been created, and, thanks to the wisdom andcourage of the Chief Magistrates of the Nation within the past twelveyears, we now have more than sixty millions of acres of suchreservations. These consist largely of rough, timbered mountain lands, unfit for cultivation or settlement. They are of enormous value to thearid West, as affording an unfailing water supply to much of thatregion, and in a less degree they are valuable as timber reserves, fromwhich hereafter may be harvested crops which will greatly benefit thecountry adjacent to them. 

In the first volume of the Boone and Crockett Club Books, it was said:"In these reservations is to be found to-day every species of large gameknown to the United States, and the proper protection of thereservations means the perpetuating in full supply of all theseindigenous mammals. If this care is provided, no species of Americanlarge game need ever become absolutely extinct; and intelligent effortfor game protection may well be directed toward securing, throughnational legislation, the policing of forest preserves by timber andgame wardens. "--American Big Game Hunting, p. 330. 

When these lines were written, Congressional action in this directionwas hoped for at an early day; but, except in the case of theYellowstone National Park, such action has not been taken. Meantime, hunting in these forest reserves has gone on. In some of them game hasbeen almost exterminated. Two little bunches of buffalo which then hadtheir range within the reserves have been swept out of existence. 

It is obvious that effectively to protect the big game at large theremust be localities where hunting shall be absolutely forbidden. That anyspecies of big game will rapidly increase if absolutely protected isperfectly well known; and in the Yellowstone Park we have ever before usan object lesson, which shows precisely what effective protection ofgame can do. 

It is little more than twenty years since the first efforts were made toprevent the killing of game within that National Reservation, and onlyabout ten years since Congress provided an effective method forpreventing such killing. He must be dull indeed who does not realizewhat that game refuge has done for a great territory, and of how muchactual money value its protection has been to the adjoining States ofMontana and Idaho, and especially of Wyoming. The visit of PresidentRoosevelt to the National Park last spring made these conditions plainto the whole nation. At that time every newspaper in the land gave longaccounts of what the President saw and did there, and told of the hordesof game that he viewed and counted. He saw nothing that he had notbefore known of, nothing that was not well known to all the members ofthe Boone and Crockett Club; but it was largely through the President'svisit, and the accounts of what he saw in the Yellowstone Park, that thepublic has come to know what rigid protection can do and has done forour great game. 

Since such a refuge can bring about such results, it is high time thatwe had more of these refuges, in order that like results may follow indifferent sections of the West, and for different species of wild game;as well for the benefit of other localities and their residents, as forthat wider public which will hereafter visit them in ever increasingnumbers. 

A bill introduced at the last session of Congress authorized thePresident, when in his judgment it should seem desirable, to set asideportions of forest reserves as game refuges, where no hunting should beallowed. The bill passed the Senate, but failed in the House, largelythrough lack of time, yet some opposition was manifested to it bymembers of Congress from the States in which the forest reserves arelocated, who seemed to feel that such a law would in some way abridgethe rights and privileges of their constituents. This is a narrow view, and one not justified by the experience of persons dwelling in thevicinity of the Yellowstone National Park. 

If such members of Congress will consider, for example, the effect onthe State of Wyoming, of the protection of the Yellowstone Park, itseems impossible to believe that they will oppose the measure. Eachnon-resident sportsman going into Wyoming to hunt the game--much ofwhich spends the summer in the Yellowstone Park, and each autumnoverflows into the adjacent territory--pays to the State the sum offorty dollars, and is obliged by law to hire a guide, for whose licensehe must pay ten dollars additional; besides that, he hires guides, saddle and pack animals, pays railroad and stage fare, and purchasesprovisions to last him for his hunt. In other words, at a modestcalculation, each man who spends from two weeks to a month hunting inWyoming pays to the State and its citizens not less than one hundred andfifty dollars. Statistics as to the number of hunters who visit Wyomingare not accessible; but if we assume that they are only two hundred innumber, this means an actual contribution to the State of thirtythousand dollars in cash. Besides this, the protection of the game insuch a refuge insures a never-failing supply of meat to the settlersliving in the adjacent country, and offers them work for themselves andtheir horses at a time when, ranch work for the season being over, theyhave no paying occupation. 

[Illustration: A BIT OF SHEEP COUNTRY]

The value of a few skins taken by local hunters is very inconsiderablewhen compared with such a substantial inflow of actual cash to the Stateand the residents of the territory neighboring to such arefuge. Moreover, it must be remembered that, failing to put inoperation some plan of this kind, which shall absolutely protect thegame and enable it to re-establish itself, the supply of meat and skins, now naturally enough regarded as their own peculiar possession by thesettlers living where such a refuge might be established, willinevitably grow less and less as time goes on; and, as it grows less, the contributions to State and local resources from the non-resident taxwill also grow less. Thirty years ago the buffalo skinner declared thatthe millions of buffalo could never be exterminated; yet the buffalodisappeared, and after them one species of big game after anothervanished over much of the country. The future can be judged only by thepast. Thirty years ago there were elk all over the plains, from theMissouri River westward to the Rocky Mountains; now there are no elk onthe plains, and, except in winter, when driven down from their summerrange by the snows, they are found only in the timbered mountains. Whathas been so thoroughly accomplished will be sure to continue; and, unless the suggested refuges shall be established, there will soon be nogame to protect--a real loss to the country. 

It has long been customary for Western men of a certain type to say thatEastern sportsmen are trying to protect the game in order that theythemselves may kill it, the implication being that they wish to take itaway from those living near it, and who presumably have the greatestright to it. Talk of this kind has no foundation in fact, as is shown bythe laws passed by the Western States, which often demand heavy licensefees from non-residents, and hedge about their hunting with otherrestrictions. Many Eastern sportsmen desire to preserve the game, notespecially that they themselves may kill it, but that it shall bepreserved; if they desire to kill this game they must and do comply withthe laws established by the different States, and pay the license fees. 

A fundamental reason for the protection of game, and so for theestablishment of such game refuges, was given by President Roosevelt ina speech made to the Club in the winter of 1903, when he expressed theopinion that it was the duty of the Government to establish theserefuges and preserves for the benefit of the poor man, the man inmoderate circumstances. The very rich, who are able to buy land, mayestablish and care for preserves of their own, but this is beyond themeans of the man of moderate means; and, unless the State and FederalGovernments establish such reservations, a time is at hand when the poorman will have no place to go where he can find game to hunt. Theestablishment of such refuges is for the benefit of the wholepublic--not for any class--and is therefore a thoroughly democraticproposition. 

There is no question as to the right of Congress to enact laws governingthe killing of game on the public domain, or within a forest reservewhere this domain lies within the boundaries of a Territory. Moreover, it has been determined by the courts and otherwise that within a Statethe Federal Government has, on a forest reserve, all the rights of anindividual proprietor, "supplemented with the power to make and enforceits own laws for the assertion of those rights, and for the disposal andfull and complete management, control and protection of its lands. "

In January, 1902, the Hon. John F. Lacey, of Iowa, a member of thisClub, whose efforts in behalf of game protection are generallyrecognized, and whose name is attached to the well-known Lacey Law, received from Attorney-General Knox an opinion indicating that there isreasonable ground for the view that the Government may legislate for theprotection of game on the forest reserves, whether these forest reserveslie within the Territories or within the States. From this opinion thefollowing paragraphs are taken:

"While Congress certainly may by law prohibit and punish the entry uponor use of any part of those forest reserves for the purpose of thekilling, capture or pursuit of game, this would not be sufficient. Thereare many persons now on those reserves by authority of law, and peopleare expressly authorized to go there, and it would be necessary to gofurther and to prohibit the killing, capture or pursuit of game, eventhough the entry upon the reserve is not for that purpose. But, theright to forbid intrusion for the purpose of killing, _per se_, andwithout reference to any trespass on the property, is another. The firstmay be forbidden as a trespass and for the protection of the property;but when a person is lawfully there and not a trespasser or intruder, the question is different. 

"But I am decidedly of opinion that Congress may forbid and punish thekilling of game on these reserves, no matter that the slayer is lawfullythere and is not a trespasser. If Congress may prohibit the use of thesereserves for any purpose, it may for another; and while Congress permitspersons to be there upon and use them for various purposes, it may fixlimits to such use and occupation, and prescribe the purpose and objectsfor which they shall not be used, as for the killing, capture or pursuitof specified kinds of game. Generally, any private owner may forbid, upon his own land, any act that he chooses, although the act may belawful in itself; and certainly Congress, invested also with legislativepower, may do the same thing, just as it may prohibit the sale ofintoxicating liquors, though such sale is otherwise lawful. 

"After considerable attention to the whole subject, I have no hesitationin expressing my opinion that Congress has ample power to forbid andpunish any and all kinds of trespass, upon or injury to, the forestreserves, including the trespass of entering upon or using them for thekilling, capture or pursuit of game. 

"The exercise of these powers would not conflict with any Stateauthority. Most of the States have laws forbidding the killing, captureor pursuit of different kinds of game during specified portions of theyear. This makes such killing, etc. , lawful at other times, but onlylawful because not made unlawful. And it is lawful only when the Statehas power to make it lawful, by either implication or direct enactment. But, except in those cases already referred to, such as eminent domain, service of process, etc. , no State has power to authorize or make lawfula trespass upon private property. So that, though Congress shouldprohibit such killing, etc. , upon its own lands, at all seasons of theyear, this would not conflict with any State authority or control. Thatthe preservation of game is part of the public policy of those States, and for the benefit of their own people, is shown by their ownlegislation, and they cannot complain if Congress upon its own landsgoes even further in that direction than the State, so long as the openseason of the State law is not interfered with in any place where suchlaw is paramount. 

[Illustration: MOUNTAIN SHEEP AT REST]

"It has always been the policy of the Government to invite and inducethe purchase and settlement of its public lands; and as the existence ofgame thereon and in their localities adds to the desirability of thelands, and is a well-known inducement to their purchase, it may well beconsidered whether, for this purpose alone, and without reference to theprotection of the lands from trespass, Congress may not, on its ownlands, prohibit the killing of such game. "

In this opinion the Attorney-General further calls attention to thedifficulties of enforcing the State law, and suggests that it might bewell to give marshals and their deputies, and the superintendents, supervisors, rangers, and other persons charged with the protection ofthese forest reserves, power on the public lands, in certain casesapproaching "hot pursuit, " to arrest without warrant. All who arefamiliar with the conditions in the more sparsely settled States willrecognize the importance of some such provision. A matter of equalimportance, though as yet not generally recognized, is that of providingfunds for the expenses of forest officers making arrests. It is oftenthe fact that no justice of the peace resides within fifty or a hundredmiles of the place where the violation of the law occurs. The rangermaking the arrest is obliged to transport his prisoner for thisdistance, and to provide him with transportation, food and lodgingduring the journey and during the time that he may be obliged to waitbefore bringing the prisoner arrested before a proper court. This mayoften amount to more than the penalty, even if the officer making thearrest secures a conviction; but, on the other hand, the individualarrested may not be able to pay his fine, and may have to go to jail. Inthis case the officer making the arrest is out of pocket just so much. Under such circumstances, it is evident that few officers can afford totake the risk of losing this time and money. 

In most States of the Union there exist considerable tracts of land, mountainous, or at least barren and unfit for cultivation. Legislationshould be had in each State establishing public parks which might wellenough be stocked with game, which should there be absolutelyprotected. Some efforts in this direction have been made, notablyMassachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania and Minnesota. In many of the NewEngland States there are tracts absolutely barren, unoccupied and oftenbordered by abandoned farms, which could be purchased by the State for avery modest compensation; and it is well worth the while of the Booneand Crockett Club to endeavor by all means in its power to secure theestablishment in the various States of parks which might be breedingcenters for game, great and small, on the same plan as the proposedrefuges hoped for within the forest reservations. Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and practically all the States to the west of these, possesssuch areas of unoccupied land, which might wisely be acquired by theState and devoted to such excellent purposes. In Montana there is a longstretch of the Missouri River, with a narrow, shifting bottom, borderedon either side by miles of bad-lands, which would serve as such a Statepark. Settlers on this stretch of river are few in number, for thebottoms are not wide enough to harbor many homes, and, being constantlycut out by the changes of the river's course, are so unstable as to beof little value as farming lands. On the other hand, the new bottomsconstantly formed are soon thickly covered by willow brush, while theextensive bad-lands on either side the stream furnish an admirablerefuge for deer, antelope, mountain sheep and bear, with which thecountry is already stocked, and were in old times a great haunt for elk, which might easily be reintroduced there. 

There is a tendency in this country to avoid trouble, and to do thosethings which can be done most easily. From this it results that effortsare constantly being made to introduce into regions from which game hasbeen exterminated various species of foreign game, which can be had, more or less domesticated, from the preserves of Europe. Thus red deerhave been introduced in the Adirondack region, and it has been suggestedthat chamois might be brought from Europe and turned loose in certainlocalities in the United States, and there increase and furnishshooting. To many men it seems less trouble to contribute money for sucha purpose as this than to buckle down and manufacture public sentimentin behalf of the protection of native game. This is a greatmistake. From observations made in certain familiar localities, we knowdefinitely that, provided there is a breeding stock, our native game, with absolute protection, will re-establish itself in an astonishinglyshort period of time. It would be far better for us to concentrate ourefforts to renew the supply of our native game rather than to collectsubscriptions to bring to America foreign game, which may or may not dowell here, and may or may not furnish sport if it shall do well. 

[Illustration: MULE DEER AT FORT YELLOWSTONE]

Forest Reserves of North America

In the United States something over 100, 000 square miles of the publicdomain has been set aside and reserved from settlement for economicpurposes. This vast area includes reservations of four different kinds:First, National Forest Reserves, aggregating some 63, 000, 000 acres, forthe conservation of the water supply of the arid and semi-arid West;second, National Parks, of which there are seventeen, for the purpose ofpreserving untouched places of natural grandeur and interest; third, State Parks, for places of recreation and for conserving the watersupply; and fourth, military wood and timber reservations, to provideGovernment fuel or other timber. Most military wood reserves wereoriginally established in connection with old forts. 

The forest reservations, as they are by far the largest, are also muchthe most important of these reserved areas. 

Perhaps three-quarters of the population of the United States do notknow that over nearly one-half of the national territory within theUnited States the rainfall is so slight or so unevenly distributed thatagriculture cannot be carried on except by means of irrigation. Thisirrigation consists of taking water out of the streams and conducting itby means of ditches which have a very gentle slope over the land whichit is proposed to irrigate. From the original ditch, smaller ditches aretaken out, running nearly parallel with each other, and from theselaterals other ditches, still smaller, and the seepage from all thesemoistens a considerable area on which crops may be grown. This, veryroughly, is irrigation, a subject of incalculable interest to thedwellers in the dry West. 

It is obvious that irrigation cannot be practiced without water, andthat every ditch which takes water from a stream lessens the volume ofthat stream below where the ditch is taken out. It is conceivable thatso many ditches might be taken out of the stream, and so much of thewater lost by evaporation and seepage into the soil irrigated, that astream which, uninterfered with, was bank full and even flowingthroughout the summer, might, under such changed condition, becomeabsolutely dry on the lower reaches of its course. And this, in fact, iswhat has happened with some streams in the West. Where this is the case, the farmers who live on the lower stretches of the stream, being withoutwater to put on their land, can raise no crops. Nothing, therefore, ismore important to the agriculturists of the West than to preserve fulland as nearly equal as possible at all seasons the water supply in theirstreams. 

This water is supplied by the annual rain or snow fall; but in the Westchiefly by snow. It falls deep on the high mountains, and, protectedthere by the pine forests, accumulates all through the winter, and inspring slowly melts. The deep layer of half-rotted pine needles, branches, decayed wood and other vegetable matter which forms the forestfloor, receives this melting snow and holds much of it for a time, whilethe surplus runs off over the surface of the ground, and by a thousandtiny rivulets at last reaches some main stream which carries it towardthe sea. In the deep forest, however, the melting of this snow is verygradual, and the water is given forth slowly and gradually to thestream, and does not cause great floods. Moreover, the large portion ofit which is held by the humus, or forest floor, drains off still moregradually and keeps the springs and sources of the brook full allthrough the summer. 

Without protection from the warm spring sun, the snows of the wintermight melt in a week and cause tremendous torrents, the whole of themelted snowfall rushing down the stream in a very short time. Withoutthe humus, or forest floor, to act as a soaked sponge which graduallydrains itself, the springs and sources of the brooks would go dry inearly summer, and the streams further down toward the cultivated plainswould be low and without sufficient water to irrigate all the farmsalong its course. 

It was for the purpose of protecting the farmers of the West by insuringthe careful protection of the water supply of all streams that Congresswisely passed the law providing for the establishing of the forestreserves. It is for the benefit of these farmers and of those others whoshall establish themselves along these streams that the Presidents ofthe United States for the last twelve or fourteen years have beenestablishing forest reserves and have had expert foresters studyingdifferent sections of the western country to learn where the water wasmost needed and where it could best be had. 

It is gratifying to think that, while at first the establishment ofthese forest reserves was very unpopular in certain sections of theWest, where their object was not in the least understood, they have--nowthat the people have come to see what they mean--received universalapproval. It sometimes takes the public a long time to understand amatter, but their common sense is sure at last to bring them to theright side of any question. 

The list of reservations here given is brought down to December, 1903, and is furnished by the U. S. Forester--a member of the Club. 

_Government Forest Reserves in the United States and Alaska_

ALASKA. Area in Acres

Afognak Forest and Fish Culture Reserve 403, 640The Alexander Archipelago Forest Reserve 4, 506, 240

Total 4, 909, 880

ARIZONA. 

The Black Mesa Forest Reserve 1, 658, 880The Prescott Forest Reserve 423, 680Grand Canyon Forest Reserve 1, 851, 520The San Francisco Mountains Forest Reserve 1, 975, 310The Santa Rita Forest Reserve 387, 300The Santa Catalina Forest Reserve 155, 520The Mount Graham Forest Reserve 118, 600The Chiricahua Forest Reserve 169, 600

Total 6, 740, 410

CALIFORNIA. Acres. 

The Lake Tahoe Forest Reserve 136, 335The Stanislaus Forest Reserve 691, 200Sierra Forest Reserve 4, 096, 000The Santa Barbara Forest Reserve 1, 838, 323San Bernardino Forest Reserve 737, 280Timber Land Reserve San Gabriel 555, 520The San Jacinto Forest Reserve 668, 160Trabuco Canyon Forest Reserve 109, 920 ---------Total 8, 832, 738

COLORADO. 

Battle Mesa Forest Reserve 853, 000Timber Land Reserve, Pike's Peak 184, 320Timber Land Reserve, Plum Creek 179, 200The South Platte Forest Reserve 683, 520The White River Forest Reserve 1, 129, 920The San Isabel Forest Reserve 77, 980 ---------Total 3, 107, 940

IDAHO. 

The Bitter Root Forest Reserve (see note) 3, 456, 000The Priest River Forest Reserve (see note) 541, 160The Pocatello Forest Reserve 49, 920 ---------Total 4, 047, 080

MONTANA. 

The Yellowstone Forest Reserve (see note) 1, 311, 600The Bitter Root Forest Reserve (see note) 691, 200The Gallatin Forest Reserve 40, 320The Lewis and Clark Forest Reserve 4, 670, 720The Madison Forest Reserve 736, 000The Little Belt Mountains Forest Reserve 501, 000The Highwood Mountains Reserve 45, 080 ---------Total 7, 995, 920

NEBRASKA. Acres. 

The Niobrara Forest Reserve 123, 779The Dismal River Forest Reserve 85, 123 ---------Total 208, 902

NEW MEXICO. 

The Gila River Forest Reserve 2, 327, 040The Pecos River Forest Reserve 430, 880The Lincoln Forest Reserve 500, 000 ---------Total 3, 257, 920

OKLAHOMA TERRITORY. 

Wichita Forest Reserve 57, 120

OREGON. 

Timber Land Reserve, Bull Run 142, 080Cascade Range Forest Reserve 4, 424, 440Ashland Forest Reserve 18, 560 ---------Total 4, 585, 080

SOUTH DAKOTA. 

The Black Hills Forest Reserve (see note) 1, 165, 240

UTAH. 

The Fish Lake Forest Reserve 67, 840The Uintah Forest Reserve 875, 520The Payson Forest Reserve 111, 600The Logan Forest Reserve 182, 080The Manti Forest Reserve 584, 640The Aquarius Forest Reserve 639, 000 ---------Total 2, 460, 680

WASHINGTON. 

The Priest River Forest Reserve (see note) 103, 960The Mount Rainier Forest Reserve 2, 027, 520The Olympic Forest Reserve 1, 466, 880The Washington Forest Reserve 3, 426, 400 ---------Total 7, 024, 760

WYOMING. Acres. 

The Yellowstone Forest Reserve (see note) 7, 017, 600The Black Hills Forest Reserve (see note) 46, 440The Big Horn Forest Reserve 1, 216, 960The Medicine Bow Forest Reserve 420, 584 ----------Total 8, 701, 584 ----------Grand Total 63, 095, 254

NOTE. 

Total of Bitter Root, in Idaho and Montana 4, 147, 200Total of Priest River, in Idaho and Washington 645, 120Total of Black Hills, in S. Dakota and Wyoming 1, 211, 680Total of Yellowstone, in Wyoming and Montana 8, 329, 200

_United States Military Wood and Timber Reservations_

Kansas-- Acres. Fort Leavenworth 939

Montana-- Fort Missoula 1, 677

Nebraska-- Fort Robinson 10, 240

New Mexico-- Fort Wingate 19, 200

New York-- Wooded Area of West Point Mil. Res. , about 1, 800

Oklahoma-- Fort Sill 26, 880

South Dakota-- Fort Meade 5, 280

Wyoming-- Fort D. A. Russell 2, 541 ------Total 68, 557

_National Parks in the United States_

Montana and Wyoming-- Acres. Yellowstone National Park 2, 142, 720

Arkansas-- Hot Springs Reserve and National Park 912

District of Columbia-- The National Zoological Park 170 Rock Creek Park 1, 606

Georgia and Tennessee-- Chickamauga & Chattanooga Nat. Mil. Parks 6, 195

Maryland-- Antietam Battlefield and Nat. Mil. Park 43

California-- Sequoia National Park 160, 000 General Grant National Park 2, 560 Yosemite National Park 967, 680

Arizona-- The Casa Grande Ruin (Exec. Order) 480

Tennessee-- Shiloh National Military Park 3, 000

Pennsylvania-- Gettysburg National Military Park 877

Mississippi-- Vicksburg National Military Park 1, 233

Washington-- The Mount Rainier National Park 207, 360

Oregon-- Crater Lake 159, 360

Indian Territory-- Sulphur Reservation and National Park 629

South Dakota-- Wind Cave ........ 

 ---------- Total 3, 654, 825

Forest Reserves of North America

_State Parks, State Forest Reserves and Preserves, State Forest Stations, and State ForestTracts in the United States_

CALIFORNIA. Acres. 

Yosemite Valley State Park 36, 000The Big Basin Redwood Park, about 2, 300Santa Monica Forest Station 20Chico Forest Station 29Mt. Hamilton Tract 2, 500

KANSAS. 

Ogallah Forestry Station 160Dodge Forestry Station 160

MASSACHUSETTS. 

Blue Hills Reservation 4, 858Beaver Brook Reservation 53Middlesex Fells Reservation 3, 028Stony Brook Reservation 464Hemlock Gorge Reservation 23Hart's Hill Reservation 23Wachusett Mountain Reservation 1, 380Greylock Reservation 3, 724Goodwill Park 70Rocky Narrows 21Mount Anne Park 50Monument Mountain Reservation 260

MICHIGAN. 

Mackinac Island State Park 103Michigan Forest Reserve 57, 000

MINNESOTA. 

Minnehaha Falls State Park, or Minnesota State Park 51Itasca State Park 20, 000St. Croix State Park, or the Interstate Park at the Dalles of the St. Croix 500

NEW YORK. Acres. 

The State Reservation at Niagara, or NiagaraFalls Park. (Area of Queen Victoria NiagaraFalls Park in Canada--730 Acres) 107Adirondack Forest Preserve 1, 163, 414Catskill Forest Preserve 82, 330The St. Lawrence Reservation, or International Park 181

PENNSYLVANIA. 

Twenty Reserves scattered 211, 776The Hopkins Reserve 62, 000Pike County Reservation 23, 000McElhattan Reservation 8, 000

WASHINGTON. 

Sanitarium Lake Reservation 193

WISCONSIN. 

The Interstate Park of the Dalles of the St. Croix 600

WYOMING. 

The Big Horn Springs Reservation 640

Total 1, 685, 023

_Canadian National Parks and Timber Reserves_

The Dominion of Canada has established a largenumber of public parks and forests reserves, of whicha list has been very kindly furnished by the DominionSecretary of the Interior, as follows:

BRITISH COLUMBIA. Acres. 

Long Lake Timber Reserve 76, 800Yoho Park (a part of Rocky Mt. Park of Can) ....... Glacier Forest Park 18, 720

NORTHWEST TERRITORY. Acres. 

Rocky Mountain Park of Canada 2, 880, 000Foot Hills Timber Reserve 2, 350, 000Waterton Lakes Forest Park 34, 000Cooking Lakes Timber Reserve 109, 000Moose Mountain Timber Reserve 103, 000Beaver Hills Timber Reserve 170, 000

MANITOBA. 

Turtle Mountain Timber Reserve 75, 000Spruce Woods Timber Reserve 190, 000Riding Mountain Timber Reserve 1, 215, 000Duck Mountain Timber Reserve 840, 000Lake Manitoba West Timber Reserve 159, 460

ONTARIO. 

Algonquin Park 1, 109, 383Eastern Reserve 80, 000Sibley Reserve 45, 000Temagami Reserve 3, 774, 000Rondeau Park ........ Missisaga Reserve 1, 920, 000

QUEBEC. 

Laurentides National Park 1, 619, 840 -----------Total 16, 769, 203

Besides these, there are two or three other reservations in Quebec andNew Brunswick and Manitoba that have not as yet been finally reserved, but which are in contemplation. Many of the timber reserves are still tobe cut over under license. On the other hand, many of them find theirchief function as game preserves, as do also to still greater extent thenational parks. A large number of these parks and timber reserves areclothed with beautiful and valuable forests, as yet untouched by the ax. 

APPENDIX

In order to be in a position to make intelligent recommendations, incase legislation authorizing the setting aside of game refuges should behad, the Boone and Crockett Club, in the year 1901, made some inquiryinto the game conditions on certain of the forest reservations and as tothe suitability as game refuges of these reserves. 

Among the reports was one on the Black Mesa Forest Reserve. Mr. Nelsonis a trained naturalist and hunter of wide experience, and possesses thehighest qualifications for investigating such a subject. He is, besides, very familiar with the reservation reported on. His report is printedhere as giving precisely the information needed by any one who may haveoccasion to deal with a forest reserve from this viewpoint, and it maywell serve as a model for others who may have occasion to report on thereserves. The report was made to the Executive Committee of the Booneand Crockett Club through the editor of this volume, and was printed in_Forest and Stream_ about two years ago. It follows:

Forest Reserves as Game Preserves

THE BLACK MESA FOREST RESERVE OF ARIZONAAND ITS AVAILABILITY AS A GAME PRESERVE. 

The Black Mesa Forest Reserve lies in central-eastern Arizona, andcontains 1, 658, 880 acres, is about 180 miles long in a northwesterly andsoutheasterly direction and a direct continuation southeasterly from theSan Francisco Mountain Forest Reserve. On the north it contains a partof the Mogollon Mesa, which is covered with a magnificent open forest ofArizona yellow pine (_Pinus ponderosa_) in which there is anabundance of bunch grass and here and there are beautiful grassyparks. To the southeast the reserve covers a large part of the WhiteMountains, one of the largest areas of generally high elevation inArizona. The yellow pine forest, similar in character to that on theMogollon Mesa, is found over a large part of the reserve between 7, 000and 8, 500 feet altitude, and its general character is shown in theaccompanying view. 

The Black Mesa Reserve is irregular in outline. The large compact areasat each end are joined by a long, narrow strip, very irregular inoutline and less than a township broad at various points. It lies alongthe southern border of the Great Colorado Plateau, and covers thesouthern and western borders of the basin of the Little ColoradoRiver. Taken as a whole, this reserve includes some of the wildest andmost attractive mountain scenery in the West. 

Owing to the wide separation of the two main areas of the reserve, andcertain differences in physical character, they will be describedseparately, beginning with the northwestern and middle areas, which aresimilar in character. 

THE NORTHWESTERN SECTION OP THE BLACK MESA RESERVE. 

With the exception of an area in the extreme western part, which drainsinto the Rio Verde, practically all of this portion of the reserve liesalong the upper border of the basin of the Little Colorado. It is acontinuation of the general easy slope which begins about 5, 000 feet onthe river and extends back so gradually at first that it is frequentlyalmost imperceptible, but by degrees becomes more rolling and steeperuntil the summit is reached at an altitude of from 6, 000 to 9, 000feet. The reserve occupies the upper portion of this slope, which hasmore the form of a mountainous plateau country, scored by deep andrugged canyons, than of a typical mountain range. From the summit ofthis elevated divide, with the exception of the district draining intothe Rio Verde, the southern and western slope drops away abruptlyseveral thousand feet into Tonto Creek Basin. The top of the hugeescarpment thus formed faces south and west, and is known as the rim ofTonto Basin, or, locally, "The Rim. " From the summit of this giganticrocky declivity is obtained an inspiring view of the south, where rangeafter range of mountains lie spread out to the distant horizon. 

The rolling plateau country sloping toward the Little Colorado isheavily scored with deep box canyons often hundreds of feet deep andfrequently inaccessible for long distances. Most of the permanentsurface water is found in these canyons, and the general drainage isthrough them down to the lower plains bordering the river. The greaterpart of this portion of the reserve is covered with yellow pine forests, below which is a belt, varying greatly in width, of piñons, cedars andjunipers, interspersed with a more or less abundant growth of grammagrass. This belt of scrubby conifers contains many open grassy areas, and nearer the river gives way to continuous broad grassyplains. Nowhere in this district, either among the yellow pines or inthe lower country, is there much surface water, and a large share of thebest watering places are occupied by sheep owners. 

The wild and rugged slopes of Tonto Basin, with their southerlyexposure, have a more arid character than the area just described. Onthese slopes yellow pines soon give way to piñons, cedars and junipers, and many scrubby oaks and various species of hardy bushes. The wateringplaces are scarce until the bottom of the basin is approached. TontoBasin and its slopes are also occupied by numerous sheep herds, especially in winter. 

There are several small settlements of farmers, sheep and cattle growerswithin the limits of the narrow strip connecting the larger parts of thereserve, notably Show Low, Pinetop and Linden. The wagon road fromHolbrook, on the Santa Fe Pacific Railroad, to the military post at CampApache, on the White Mountain Indian Reservation, passes through thisstrip by way of Show Low. The old trails through Sunset Pass to CampVerde and across "The Rim" into Tonto Basin traverse the northern partof the reserve, and are used by stockmen and others at short intervals, except in midwinter. 

The climate of this section of the reserve is rather arid in summer, therainfall being much more uncertain than in the more elevated areas aboutthe San Francisco Mountains to the northwest and the White Mountains tothe southeast. The summers are usually hot and dry, the temperaturebeing modified, however, by the altitude. Rains sometimes occur duringJuly and August, but are more common in the autumn, when they are oftenfollowed by abundant snowfall. During some seasons snow falls to a depthof three or more feet on a level in the yellow pine forests, and remainsuntil spring. During other seasons, however, the snowfall isinsignificant, and much of the ground remains bare during the winter, especially on southern exposures. As a matter of course, the lower slopeof the piñon belt and the grassy plains of the Little Colorado, both ofwhich lie outside of the reserve, have less and less snow, according tothe altitude, and it never remains for any very considerable time. Onthe southern exposure, facing Tonto Basin, the snow is still lesspermanent. The winter in the yellow pine belt extends from November toApril. 

LARGE GAME IN THE NORTHERN PART OF THE BLACK MESA RESERVE. 

Black-tailed deer, antelope, black and silver tipped bears and mountainlions are the larger game animals which frequent the yellow pine forestsin summer. Wild turkeys are also common. 

The black-tailed deer are still common and generally distributed. Inwinter the heavy snow drives them to a lower range in the piñon belttoward the Little Colorado and also down the slope of Tonto Basin, bothof these areas lying outside the reserve. The Arizona white-tailed deeris resident throughout the year in comparatively small numbers on thebrushy slopes of Tonto Basin, and sometimes strays up in summer into theborder of the pine forest. Antelope were once plentiful on the plainsof the Little Colorado, and in summer ranged through the open yellowpine forest now included in the reserve. They still occur, in verylimited numbers, in this forest during the summer, and at the firstsnowfall descend to the lower border of the piñon belt and adjacentgrassy plains. Both species of bears occur throughout the pine forestsin summer, often following sheep herds. As winter approaches and thesheep are moved out of the higher ranges, many of the bears go over "TheRim" to the slopes of Tonto Basin, where they find acorns, juniperberries and other food, until cold weather causes them to hibernate. The mountain lions are always most numerous on the rugged slopes ofTonto Basin, especially during winter, when sheep and game have left theelevated forest. 

From the foregoing notes it is apparent that the northwestern and middleportions of the Black Mesa Reserve are without proper winter range forgame within its limits, and that the conditions are otherwiseunfavorable for their use as game preserves. 

THE SOUTHEASTERN SECTION OF THE BLACK MESA RESERVE. 

The southeastern portion of the reserve remains to be considered. Themap shows this to be a rectangular area, about thirty by fifty miles inextent, lying between the White Mountain Indian Reservation and thewestern border of New Mexico, and covering the adjacent parts of Apacheand Graham counties. It includes the eastern part of the WhiteMountains, which culminate in Ord and Thomas peaks, rising respectivelyto 10, 266 feet and to 11, 496 feet, on the White Mountain IndianReservation, just off the western border of the Forest Reserve. Thissection of the reserve is strikingly more varied in physical conditionsthan the northern portion, as will be shown by the followingdescription:

The northwestern part of this section, next to the peaks just mentioned, is an elevated mountainous plateau country forming the watershed betweenthe extreme headwaters of the Little Colorado on the north and the Blackand San Francisco rivers, tributaries of the Gila, on the south. Thedivide between the heads of these streams is so low that in the midst ofthe undulating country, where they rise, it is often difficult todetermine at first sight to which drainage some of the small tributariesbelong. This district is largely of volcanic formation, and beds of lavacover large tracts, usually overlaid with soil, on which the forestflourishes. 

The entire northern side of this section is bordered by the slopinggrassy plains of the Little Colorado, which at their upper border havean elevation of 6, 500 to 7, 500 feet, and are covered here and there withpiñons, cedars and junipers, especially along the sides of the canyonsand similar slopes. At the upper border of this belt the general slopebecomes abruptly mountainous, and rises to 8, 000 or 8, 500 feet to abroad bench-like summit, from which extends back the elevated plateaucountry already mentioned. This outer slope of the plateau is coveredwith a fine belt of yellow pine forests, similar in character to thatfound in the northern part of the reserve. Owing to the more abruptcharacter of the northerly slope of this belt, and its greater humidity, the forest is more varied by firs and aspens, especially along thecanyons, than is the case further north. Here and there along the uppertributaries of the Little Colorado, small valleys open out, which arefrequently wooded and contain beautiful mountain parks. 

The summit of the elevated plateau country about the headwaters of theLittle Colorado and Black rivers (which is known locally as the "BigMesa"), is an extended area of rolling grassy plain, entirely surroundedby forests and varied irregularly by wooded ridges and points oftimber. This open plain extends in a long sweep from a point a few milessouth of Springerville westward for about fifteen miles along the top ofthe divide to the bases of Ord and Thomas peaks. These elevated plainsare separated from those of the Little Colorado to the north by the beltof forests already described as covering the abrupt northern wall of theplateau. On the other sides of the "Big Mesa" an unbroken forestextends away over the undulating mountainous country as far as the eyecan reach. The northerly slopes of the higher elevations in this sectionare covered with spruce forest. 

The most varied and beautiful part of the entire Black Mesa Reserve liesin the country extending southeasterly from Ord and Thomas peaks andimmediately south of the "Big Mesa. " This is the extreme upper part ofthe basin of Black River, which is formed by numerous little streamsrising from springs and wet meadows at an elevation of from 8, 500 to9, 500 feet. The little meadows form attractive grassy openings in theforest, covered in summer with a multitude of wild flowers andsurrounded by the varied foliage of different trees and shrubs. Thelittle streams flow down gently sloping courses, which gradually deepento form shallow side canyons leading into the main river. Black River isa clear, sparkling trout stream at the bottom of a deep, rugged boxcanyon, cut through a lava bed and forming a series of wildly picturesqueviews. The sides of Black River Canyon and its small tributaries are wellforested. On the cool northerly slope the forest is made up of a heavygrowth of pines, firs, aspens and alder bushes, which give way on thesoutherly slope, where the full force of the sun is felt, to a thingrowth of pines, grass and a little underbrush. 

At the head of Black River, between 8, 000 and 9, 000 feet, there are manynearly level or gently sloping areas, sometimes of considerable extent. These are covered with open yellow pine forests, with many white-barkedaspens scattered here and there, and an abundance of grasses and lowbushes. This was once a favorite summer country for elk, and I haveseen there many bushes and small saplings which had been twisted andbarked by bull elk while rubbing the velvet from their horns. 

Immediately south and east of Black River lies the Prieto Plateau, awell wooded mountain mass rising steeply from Black River Canyon to abroad summit about 9, 000 feet in altitude. The northerly slopes of thisplateau, facing the river, are heavily forested with pines, firs, aspensand brushy undergrowth, and are good elk country. The summit is cold anddamp, with areas of spruce thickets and attractive wet meadows scatteredhere and there. Beyond the summit of the plateau, to the south and east, the country descends abruptly several thousand feet, in a series ofrocky declivities and sharp spur-like ridges, to the canyon of BlueRiver, a tributary of the San Francisco River. This slope, near thesummit, is overgrown with firs, aspens and pines, which give way as thedescent is made, to piñons, cedar and scrubby oak trees and a more orless abundant growth of chaparral. Small streams and springs are foundin the larger canyons on this slope, while far below, at an altitude ofabout 5, 000 feet, lies Blue River. 

The country at the extreme head of Blue River forms a great mountainamphitheater, with one side so near the upper course of Black River thatone can traverse the distance between the basins of the two streams in ashort ride. The descent into the drainage of Blue River is very abrupt, and is known locally as the "breaks" of Blue River. The scenery of thesebreaks nearly, if not quite, equals that on "The Rim" of Tonto Basin inits wild magnificence. The vegetation on the breaks shows at a glancethe milder character of the climate, as compared with that of the moreelevated area about the head of Black River. In the midst of theshrubbery growth on the breaks there is a fine growth of nutritiousgrasses, which forms excellent winter forage. 

The entire southern part of the reserve lying beyond the Prieto Plateauis an excessively broken mountainous country, with abrupt changes inaltitude from the hot canyons, where cottonwoods flourish, to the highridges, where pines and firs abound. 

The northeastern part of the section of the reserve under considerationis cut off from the rest by the valley of Nutrioso Creek, a tributary ofthe Little Colorado, and by the headwaters of the San FranciscoRiver. It is a limited district, mainly occupied by Escudilla Mountain, rising to 10, 691 feet, and its foothills. Escudilla Mountain slopesabruptly to a long truncated summit, and is heavily forested from baseto summit by pines, aspens and spruces. On the south the foothills mergeinto the generally mountainous area. On the north, at an altitude ofabout 8, 000 feet, they merge into the plains of the Little Colorado, varied by grassy prairies and irregular belts of piñon timber. 

The upper parts of the Little Colorado and Black Rivers, above 7, 500feet, are clear and cold, and well stocked with a native species ofsmall brook trout. 

Owing to the generally elevated character of the southeastern section ofthe Black Mesa Reserve, containing three mountain peaks rising above10, 000 feet, the annual precipitation is decidedly greater thanelsewhere on the reserve. The summer rains are irregular in character, being abundant in some seasons and very scanty in others; but there isalways enough rainfall about the extreme head of Black River to makegrass, although there is always much hot, dry weather between May andOctober. The fall and winter storms are more certain than those ofsummer, and the parts of the reserve lying above 8, 000 feet are usuallyburied in snow before spring--frequently with several feet of snow on alevel. The amount of snow increases steadily with increase ofaltitude. Some of the winter storms are severe, and on one occasion, while living at an altitude of 7, 500 feet, I witnessed a storm duringwhich snow fell continuously for nearly two days. The weather wasperfectly calm at the time, and after the first day the pine treesbecame so loaded that an almost continual succession of reports wereheard from the breaking of large branches. At the close of the stormthere was a measured depth of 26 inches of snow on a level at analtitude of 7, 500 feet. A thousand feet lower, on the plains of theLittle Colorado, a few miles to the north, only a foot of snow fell, while at higher altitudes the amount was much greater than thatmeasured. 

The summer temperatures are never excessive in this section, and thewinters are mild, although at times reaching from 15 to 20 degrees belowzero. Above 7, 500 feet, except on sheltered south slopes, snowordinarily remains on the ground from four to five months in sufficientquantity to practically close this area from winter grazing. Cattle, andthe antelope which once frequented the "Big Mesa" in considerablenumbers, appeared to have premonitions of the coming of the first snowin fall. On one occasion, while stopping at a ranch on the plains of theLittle Colorado, just below the border of the Big Mesa country, inNovember, I was surprised to see hundreds of cattle in an almost endlessline coming down from the Mesa, intermingled with occasional bands ofantelope. They were following one of the main trails leading from themountain out on the plains of the Little Colorado. Although the sun wasshining at the time, there was a slight haziness in the atmosphere, andthe ranchmen assured me that this movement of the stock always foretoldthe approach of a snowstorm. The following morning the plains around theranch where I was stopping were covered with six inches of snow, whileover a foot of snow covered the mountains. Bands of half-wild horsesranging on the Big Mesa show more indifference to snow, as they can digdown to the grass; but the depth of snow sometimes increases so rapidlythat the horses become "yarded, " and their owners have much difficultyin extricating them. 

The southerly slopes leading down from the divide to the lower altitudesalong the Black River and the breaks of the Blue, are sheltered from thecold northerly winds of the Little Colorado Valley, while the greaternatural warmth of the situation aids in preventing any seriousaccumulation of snow. As a result, this entire portion of the reserveforms an ideal winter game range, with an abundance of grass and ediblebushes. The varied character of the country about the head of BlackRiver makes it an equally favorable summer range for game, and that thisconjunction of summer and winter ranges is appreciated by the gameanimals is shown by the fact that this district is probably the bestgame country in all Arizona. 

LARGE GAME IN THE SOUTHEASTERN PART OF TUB BLACK MESA RESERVE. 

The large game found in this section of the reserve includes the elk, black-tailed deer, Arizona white-tailed deer, black and silver-tippedbears, mountain lions and wildcats, timber wolves and coyotes. 

Elk were formerly found over most of the pine and fir forested parts ofthis section of the reserve, but were already becoming rather scarce in1885, and, although they were still found there in 1897, it is now aquestion whether any survive or not. If they still survive, they arerestricted to a limited area about the head of Black River from Ord Peakto the Prieto Plateau. Black-tailed deer are still common, and theirsummer range extends more or less generally over all of the forestedpart of this section above 7, 500 feet. In winter only a few strayindividuals remain within the reserve on the Little Colorado side, but anumber range out into the piñon country on the plains of the LittleColorado. The country about the head of Black River is a favorite summerrange of this deer, but in winter they gradually retreat before theheavy snowfalls to the sheltered canyons along Black River and the breaksof the Blue. In September and October the old males keep by themselvesin parties of from four to ten and range through the glades of theyellow pine forest. 

The Arizona white-tailed deer is not found on the part of the reservedrained by the Little Colorado River, but is abundant in the basin ofBlue River, and ranges in summer up into the lower part of the yellowpine forest along Black River. They retreat before the early snows tothe breaks of the Blue, where they are very numerous. During huntingtrips into their haunts in October and November, I have several timesseen herds of these deer numbering from thirty to forty, both before andafter the first snowfall. Antelope formerly ranged up in summer from theplains of the Little Colorado over the grassy Big Mesa country andthrough the surrounding open pine forest, retreating to the plains inthe autumn, but they are now nearly or quite exterminated in thatsection. Bears of both species wander irregularly over most of thereserve in summer, but are most numerous on the breaks of the Blue andabout the head of Black River. In autumn, previous to their hibernation, they descend along the canyon of the Black River and among the breaks ofthe Blue, where acorns and other food is abundant. 

Mountain lions also wander over all parts of the reserve, but are commononly in the rough country along the Blue. Wildcats are rather common andwidely distributed, but are far more numerous on the Black and the Bluerivers. Timber wolves were once rather common, but are now nearlyextinct, owing to their persecution by owners of sheep andcattle. Coyotes occur in this district occasionally in summer. Wildturkeys are found more or less generally throughout this section of thereserve, retreating in winter to the warmer country along the breaks ofthe Blue and the canyon of Black River, where they sometimes gather invery large flocks. 

NOTES ON SETTLEMENTS, ROADS AND OTHER MATTERS. 

The greater part of this section of the Black Mesa Reserve is unsettled, but the northeastern corner, along Nutrioso Creek and the head of SanFrancisco River, is traversed by a wagon road leading toSpringerville. Within the limits of the reservation on this road are twosmall farming villages of Nutrióse and Alpine. The owners of the smallfarms along the valleys of these streams also raise a limited number ofcattle and horses on the surrounding hills. A few claims are also heldat scattered points along the extreme northern edge of the reservebetween Springerville and Nutrioso. Between 1883 and 1895 several herdsof cattle were grazed on the head of Black River, and ranged in winterdown on the breaks of the Blue and the canyons of Black River; but Iunderstand that these ranges have since been abandoned by the cattlemen. For some years the sheep men have grazed their flocks in summerover the Big Mesa country and through the surrounding open forest. Inaddition to the damage done by the grazing of the sheep, thecarelessness of the herders in starting forest fires has resulted insome destruction to the timber. Fortunately, the permanent settlers onthis section of the reserve are located in the northeastern corner, which is the least suitable portion of the tract for game. In additionto the wagon road from Springerville to Nutrioso another road has beenmade from Springerville south across the Big Mesa to the head of BlackRiver. Trails run from Nutrioso and Springerville to the head of BlueRiver and down it to the copper mining town of Clifton, but are littleused. At various times scattered settlers have located along the Blue, and cultivated small garden patches. The first of these settlers werekilled by the Apaches, and I am unable to say whether these farms arenow occupied or not. In any case, the conditions along the tipper Blueare entirely unsuited for successful farming. 

Perhaps the most serious menace to the successful preservation of gameon this tract is its proximity to the White Mountain IndianReservation. This reservation not only takes in some of the finest gamecountry immediately bordering the timber reserve, including Ord andThomas peaks, but is often visited by hunting parties of Indians. 

During spring and early summer, all of the yellow pine and fir countryin this section is subjected to a plague of tabano flies, which areabout the size of large horse-flies. These flies swarm in great numbersand attack stock and game so viciously that, as a consequence, theanimals are frequently much reduced in flesh. The Apaches take advantageof this plague to set fire to the forest and lie in wait for the game, which has taken shelter in the smoke to rid itself from the flies. Inthis way the Indians kill large numbers of breeding deer, and at thesame time destroy considerable areas of forest. While on a visit to thisdistrict in the summer of 1899 Mr. Pinchot saw the smoke of five forestfires at different places in the mountains, which had been set byhunting parties of Indians for the purpose. The only method by which notonly the game but the forest along the western side of this reserve canbe successfully protected will be to have the western border of theforest reserve extended to take in a belt eight to twelve miles wide ofthe Indian reservation. This would include Ord and Thomas peaks, andwould serve efficiently to protect the country about the headwaters ofthe rivers from these destructive inroads. 

The northern border of this section of the reserve is about one hundredmiles by wagon road from the nearest point on the Santa Fe PacificRailroad. Seven miles from its northern border is the town ofSpringerville, with a few hundred inhabitants in its vicinity engaged infarming, cattle and sheep growing. From Springerville north extends theplains of the Little Colorado to St. Johns, the county seat of Apachecounty, containing a few hundred people. To the south and east of thereserve there are no towns for some distance, except a few smallsettlements along the course of the San Francisco River in New Mexico, which are far removed from the part of the reserve which is mostsuitable for game. The fact that deer continue abundant in the districtabout the head of Black River, although hunted at all seasons for manyyears, and the continuance there of elk for so long, under the sameconditions, is good evidence of the favorable conditions existing inthat section for game. 

_E. W. Nelson_. 

Constitution of the Boone and Crockett Club

FOUNDED DECEMBER 1887. 

Article I. 

This Club shall be known as the Boone and Crockett Club. 

Article II. 

The objects of the Club shall be:

1. To promote manly sport with the rifle. 

2. To promote travel and exploration in the wild and unknown, or butpartially known, portions of the country. 

3. To work for the preservation of the large game of this country, and, so far as possible, to further legislation for that purpose, and toassist in enforcing the existing laws. 

4. To promote inquiry into, and to record observations on, the habitsand natural history of the various wild animals. 

5. To bring about among the members the interchange of opinions andideas on hunting, travel and exploration; on the various kinds ofhunting rifles; on the haunts of game animals, etc. 

Article III. 

No one shall be eligible for regular membership who shall not havekilled with the rifle, in fair chase, by still-hunting or otherwise, atleast one individual of each of three of the various kinds of Americanlarge game. 

Article IV. 

Under the head of American large game are included the followinganimals: Black or brown bear, grizzly bear, polar bear, buffalo (bison), mountain sheep, woodland caribou, barren-ground caribou, cougar, musk-ox, white goat, elk (wapiti), prong-horn antelope, moose, Virginiadeer, mule deer, and Columbian black-tail deer. 

Article V. 

The term "fair chase" shall not be held to include killing bear orcougar in traps, nor "fire hunting, " nor "crusting" moose, elk or deerin deep snow, nor "calling" moose, nor killing deer by any other methodthan fair stalking or still-hunting, nor killing game from a boat whileit is swimming in the water, nor killing the female or young of anyruminant, except the female of white goat or of musk-ox. 

Article VI. 

This Club shall consist of not more than one hundred regular members, and of such associate and honorary members as may be elected by theExecutive Committee. Associate members shall be chosen from those who bytheir furtherance of the objects of the Club, or general qualifications, shall recommend themselves to the Executive Committee. Associate andhonorary members shall be exempt from dues and initiation fees, andshall not be entitled to vote. 

Article VII. 

The officers of the Club shall be a President, five Vice-Presidents, aSecretary, and a Treasurer, all of whom shall be elected annually. Thereshall also be an Executive Committee, consisting of six members, holdingoffice for three years, the terms of two of whom shall expire eachyear. The President, the Secretary, and the Treasurer, shall be_ex-officio_ members of the Executive Committee. 

Article VIII. 

The Executive Committee shall constitute the Committee onAdmissions. The Committee on Admissions may recommend for regularmembership by unanimous vote of its members present at any meeting, anyperson who is qualified under the foregoing articles of thisConstitution. Candidates thus recommended shall be voted on by the Clubat large. Six blackballs shall exclude, and at least one-third of themembers must vote in the affirmative to elect. 

Article IX. 

The entrance fee for regular members shall be twenty-five dollars. Theannual dues of regular members shall be five dollars, and shall bepayable on February 1st of each year. Any member who shall fail to payhis dues on or before August 1st, following, shall thereupon cease to bea member of the Club. But the Executive Committee, in their discretion, shall have power to reinstate such member. 

Article X. 

The use of steel traps; the making of "large bags"; the killing of gamewhile swimming in water, or helpless in deep snow; and the killing ofthe females of any species of ruminant (except the musk-ox or whitegoat), shall be deemed offenses. Any member who shall commit suchoffenses may be suspended, or expelled from the Club by unanimous voteof the Executive Committee. 

Article XI. 

The officers of the Club shall be elected for the ensuing year at theannual meeting. 

Article XII. 

This Constitution may be amended by a two-thirds vote of the memberspresent at any annual meeting of the Club, provided that notice of theproposed amendment shall have been mailed, by the Secretary, to eachmember of the Club, at least two weeks before said meeting. 

By-Laws Rules of the Committee on Admission

1. Candidates must be proposed and seconded in writing by two members ofthe Club. 

2. Letters concerning each candidate must be addressed to the ExecutiveCommittee by at least two members, other than the proposer and seconder. 

3. No candidate for regular membership shall be proposed or seconded byany member of the Committee on Admissions. 

4. No person shall be elected to associate membership who is qualifiedfor regular membership, but withheld therefrom by reason of there beingno vacancy. 

Additional information as to the admission of members may be found inArticles III, VI, VIII and IX of the Constitution. 

Former Officers Boone and Crockett Club

_President_. 

Theodore Roosevelt, 1888-1894. Benjamin H. Bristow, 1895-1896. W. Austin Wadsworth, 1897-

_Vice-Presidents, _

Charles Deering, 1897-Walter B. Devereux, 1897-Howard Melville Hanna, 1897-William D. Pickett, 1897-Frank Thomson, 1897-1900. Owen Wister, 1900-1902. Archibald Rogers, 1903-

_Secretary and Treasurer. _

Archibald Rogers, 1888-1893. George Bird Grinnell, 1894-1895. C. Grant La Farge, 1896-1901. 

_Secretary_. 

Alden Sampson, 1902. Madison Grant, 1903-

_Treasurer. _

C. Grant La Farge, 1902-

_Executive Committee_. 

W. Austin Wadsworth, 1893-1896. George Bird Grinnell, 1893. Winthrop Chanler, 1893-1899, 1904-Owen Wister, 1893-1896, 1903-Charles F. Deering, 1893-1896. Archibald Rogers, 1894-1902. Lewis Rutherford Morris, 1897-Henry L. Stimson, 1897-1899. Madison Grant, 1897-1902. Gifford Pinchot, 1900-1903. Caspar Whitney, 1900-1903. John Rogers, Jr. , 1902-Alden Sampson, 1903-Arnold Hague, 1904-

_Editorial Committee_. 

George Bird Grinnell, 1896-Theodore Roosevelt, 1896-

 Officersof the Boone and Crockett Club 1904

_President_. 

W. Austin Wadsworth Geneseo, N. Y. 

_Vice-Presidents_. 

Charles Deering Illinois. Walter B. Devereux ColoradoHoward Melville Hanna Ohio. William D. Pickett Wyoming. Archibald Rogers New York. 

_Secretary_. 

Madison Grant New York City. 

_Treasurer_. 

C. Grant La Farge New York City. 

_Executive Committee_. 

W. Austin Wadsworth, _ex-officio_, Chairman, Madison Grant, _ex-officio_, C. Grant La Farge, _ex-officio_, Lewis Rutherford Morris, To serve until 1905. John Rogers, Jr. , Alden Sampson, To serve until 1906. Owen Wister, Arnold Hague, To serve until 1907. Winthrop Chanler, _Editorial Committee_. 

George Bird Grinnell New York. Theodore Roosevelt Washington, D. C. 

List of Membersof the Boone and Crockett Club, 1904

Regular Members. 

MAJOR HENRY T. ALLEN, Washington, D. C. COL. GEORGE S. ANDERSON, Washington, D. C. JAMES W. APPLETON, New York City. GEN. THOMAS H. BARBER, New York City. DANIEL M. BARRINGER, Philadelphia, Pa. F. S. BILLINGS, Woodstock, Vt. GEORGE BIRD, New York City. GEORGE BLEISTEIN, Buffalo, N. Y. W. J. BOARDMAN, Washington, D. C. WILLIAM B. BOGERT, Chicago, Ill. WILLIAM B. BRISTOW, New York City. ARTHUR ERWIN BROWN, Philadelphia, Pa. CAPT. WILLARD H. BROWNSON, Washington, D. C. JOHN LAMBERT CADWALADER, New York City. ROYAL PHELPS CARROLL, New York City. WINTHROP CHANLER, New York City. WILLIAM ASTOR CHANLER, New York City. CHARLES P. CURTIS, JR. , Boston, Mass. FRANK C. CROCKER, Hill City, S. D. DR. PAUL J. DASHIELL, Annapolis, Md. E. W. DAVIS, New York City. CHARLES STEWART DAVISON, New York City. CHARLES DEERING, Chicago, Ill. HORACE K. DEVEREUX, Colorado Springs, Col. WALTER B. DEVEREUX New York City. H. CASIMIR DE RHAM, Tuxedo, N. Y. DR. WILLIAM K. DRAPER, New York City. J. COLEMAN DRAYTON, New York City. DR. DANIEL GIRAUD ELLIOT, Chicago, I11. MAJOR ROBERT TEMPLE EMMET, Schenectady, N. Y. MAXWELL EVARTS, New York City. ROBERT MUNRO FERGUSON, New York City. JOHN G. FOLLANSBEE, New York City. JAMES T. GARDINER, New York City. JOHN STERETT GITTINGS, Baltimore, Md. GEORGE H. GOULD, Santa Barbara, Cal. MADISON GRANT, New York City. DE FOREST GRANT, New York City. GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL, New York City. WILLIAM MILNE GRINNELL, New York City. ARNOLD HAGUE, Washington, D. C. HOWARD MELVILLE HANNA, Cleveland, Ohio. JAMES HATHAWAY KIDDER, Boston, Mass. DR. WALTER B. JAMES, New York City. C. GRANT LA FARGE, New York City. DR. ALEXANDER LAMBERT, New York City. COL. OSMUN LATROBE, New York City. GEORGE H. LYMAN, Boston, Mass. FRANK LYMAN, Brooklyn, N. Y. CHARLES B. MACDONALD, New York City. HENRY MAY, Washington, D. C. DR. JOHN K. MITCHELL, Philadelphia, Pa. PIERPONT MORGAN, JR. , New York City. CHESTON MORRIS, JR. , Springhouse, Pa. DR. LEWIS RUTHERFORD MORRIS, New York City. HENRY NORCROSS MUNN, New York City. LYMAN NICHOLS, Boston, Mass. THOMAS PATON, New York City. HON. BOIES PENROSE, Washington, D. C. DR. CHARLES B. PENROSE, Philadelphia, Pa. R. A. F. PENROSE, JR. , Philadelphia, Pa. COL. WILLIAM D. PICKETT, Four Bear, Wyo. HENRY CLAY PIERCE, New York City. JOHN JAY PIERREPONT, Brooklyn, N. Y. GIFFORD PINCHOT, Washington, D. C. JOHN HILL PRENTICE, New York City. HENRY S. PRITCHETT, Boston, Mass. A. PHIMISTER PROCTOR, New York City. PERCY RIVINGTON PYNE, New York City. BENJAMIN W. RICHARDS, Philadelphia, Pa. DOUGLAS ROBINSON, New York City. ARCHIBALD ROGERS, Hyde Park, N. Y. DR. JOHN ROGERS, JR. , New York City. HON. THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Washington, D. C. HON. ELIHU ROOT, New York City. BRONSON RUMSEY, Buffalo, N. Y. LAWRENCE D. RUMSEY, Buffalo, N. Y. ALDEN SAMPSON, Haverford, Pa. HON. WILLIAM CARY SANGER, Sangerfield, N. Y. PHILIP SCHUYLER, Irvington, N. Y. M. G. SECKENDORFF, Washington, D. C. DR. J. L. SEWARD, Orange, N. J. DR. A. DONALDSON SMITH, Philadelphia, Pa. DR. WILLIAM LORD SMITH, Boston, Mass. E. LE ROY STEWART, New York City. HENRY L. STIMSON, New York City. HON. BELLAMY STORER, Washington, D. C. RUTHERFORD STUYVESANT, New York City. LEWIS S. THOMPSON, Red Bank, N. J. B. C. TILGHMAN, JR. , Philadelphia, Pa. HON. W. K. TOWNSEND, New Haven, Conn. MAJOR W. AUSTIN WADSWORTH, Geneseo, N. Y. SAMUEL D. WARREN, Boston, Mass. JAMES SIBLEY WATSON, Rochester, N. Y. CASPAR WHITNEY, New York City. COL. ROGER D. WILLIAMS, Lexington, Ky. FREDERIC WINTHROP, New York City. ROBERT DUDLEY WINTHROP, New York City. OWEN WISTER, Philadelphia, Pa. J. WALTER WOOD, JR. , Short Hills, N. J. 

Associate Members. 

HON. TRUXTON BEALE, Washington, D. C. WILLIAM L. BUCHANAN, Buffalo, N. Y. D. H. BURNHAM. Chicago, Ill. EDWARD NORTH BUXTON, Knighton, Essex, Eng. MAJ. F. A. EDWARDS, U. S. Embassy, Rome, Italy. A. P. GORDON-GUMMING, Washington, D. C. BRIG. -GEN. A. W. GREELY, Washington, D. C. MAJOR MOSES HARRIS, Washington, D. C. HON. JOHN F. LACEY, Washington, D. C. HON. HENRY CABOT LODGE, Washington, D. C. A. P. LOW, Ottawa, Canada. PROF. JOHN BACH MACMASTER, Philadelphia, Pa. DR. C. HART MERRIAM, Washington, D. C. HON. FRANCIS G. NEWLANDS, Washington, D. C. PROF. HENRY FAIRFIELD OSBORN, New York City. HON. GEORGE C. PERKINS, Washington, D. C. MAJOR JOHN PITCHER, Washington, D. C. HON. REDFIELD PROCTOR, Washington, D. C. HON. W. WOODVILLE ROCKHILL, Washington, D. C. JOHN E. ROOSEVELT, New York City. HON. CARL SCHURZ, New York City. F. C. SELOUS, Worpleston, Surrey, Eng. T. S. VAN DYKE, Los Angeles, Cal. HON. G. G. VEST, Washington, D. C. 

Regular Members, Deceased. 

ALBERT BIERSTADT, New York City. HON. BENJAMIN H. BRISTOW, New York City. H. A. CAREY, Newport, R. I. COL. RICHARD IRVING DODGE, Washington, D. C. COL. H. C. McDOWELL, Lexington, Ky. MAJOR J. C. MERRILL, Washington, D. C. DR. WILLIAM H. MERRILL, New York City. JAMES S. NORTON, Chicago, Ill. WILLIAM HALLETT PHILLIPS, Washington, D. C. N. P. ROGERS, New York City. E. P. ROGERS, New York City. ELLIOTT ROOSEVELT, New York City. DR. J. WEST ROOSEVELT, New York City. DEAN SAGE, Albany, N. Y. HON. CHARLES F. SPRAGUE, Boston, Mass. FRANK THOMSON, Philadelphia, Pa. MAJ. -GEN. WILLIAM D. WHIPPLE, New York City. CHARLES E. WHITEHEAD, New York City. 

Honorary Members, Deceased. 

JUDGE JOHN DEAN CATON, Ottawa, Ill. FRANCIS PARKMAN, Boston, Mass. GEN. WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN, New York City. GEN. PHILIP SHERIDAN, Washington, D. C. 

Associate Members, Deceased. 

HON. EDWARD F. BEALE, Washington, D. C. COL. JOHN MASON BROWN, Louisville, Ky. MAJOR CAMPBELL BROWN, Spring Hill, Ky. HON. WADE HAMPTON, Columbia, S. C. MAj. -GEN. W. H. JACKSON, Nashville, Tenn. CLARENCE KING, New York City. HON. THOMAS B. REED, New York City.