The Buffalo of the Timber.Photographed from life by John Fossam. From Forest and Stream.
On his return to Washington he urged the enactment of a law establishing the Yellowstone Park as a government reservation. In this work he was ably supported by Senators Anthony, of Rhode Island, Edmunds, of Vermont, and Trumbull, of Illinois, and also by Mr. Dawes, of Massachusetts, then a member of the House of Representatives, who in an excellent speech presented the matter so forcibly that the enabling act passed the House without opposition.
The report of the Public Lands Committee of the House recommending the passage of the act, after pointing out the worthlessness of the region for agricultural purposes or for settlement, closes with this expression of opinion, valuable in the light in which the Park is now held by the civilized world:
The withdrawal of this tract, therefore, from sale or settlement takes nothing from the value of the public domain, and is no pecuniary loss to the Government, but will be regarded by the entire civilized world as a step of progress and an honor to Congress and the nation.
The withdrawal of this tract, therefore, from sale or settlement takes nothing from the value of the public domain, and is no pecuniary loss to the Government, but will be regarded by the entire civilized world as a step of progress and an honor to Congress and the nation.
The organic law establishing the Park, after defining its boundaries, states that the reservation is "dedicated and set apart as a public park or pleasure-ground for the benefit and enjoyment of the people." Exclusive control of the Park was given to the Secretary of the Interior, with power to make the necessary rules and regulations for its proper care and maintenance. He was authorized to "provide against the wanton destruction of the fish and game found within said Park, and against their capture or destruction for the purpose of merchandise or profit." The act was approved by the President March 1, 1872.
It will thus be seen that from the very inception of the project for a grand National Park, the preservation of the game was contemplated, although it is evident that absolute prohibition of shooting was not then intended. Probably this was not deemed necessary in such a remote and unfrequented region, to say nothing of its working a hardship upon those who were ready to penetrate its forests and search for fresh wonders.
At that time the country included within the Park was practically an inaccessibleregion, which, owing to the rough and rugged nature of its barriers, had defied all earlier attempts at exploration. It stood out alone as a broad unknown mountain mass when the surrounding country had been fairly well explored. It had been visited only by a few venturesome pioneers, mining prospectors, and fur-hunters, who found little or no encouragement to seekers after wealth. Only one trans-continental railway spanned the Rocky Mountains, crossing Wyoming far to the south of the Park, the Union and Central Pacific having been opened to traffic in 1869. At that time, wild animals roamed freely over prairie, plain, and mountain slope, from the Canadian border to the Rio Grande. In Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado, elk, deer, and antelope abounded in favorable localities. In the North Park in northern Colorado, I saw almost daily numerous bands of antelope, hundreds in each, grazing along the shallow bottom-lands. Over the Laramie plains, antelope and deer might be seen almost any day from the railway. Buffalo roamed the great plains in vast numbers. In 1872 I saw buffalo in the North Park, butthey long since left that ideal grazing-ground. The Upper Missouri and Yellowstone valleys were the homes of magnificent herds; now they have disappeared forever. I never had the good fortune to see such enormous herds as frequently wandered over western Kansas; but I well remember one autumn afternoon, when seated in a railway car, book in hand, glancing out upon the prairie, as I turned the pages, I scarcely looked up from the volume but the shaggy forms of buffalo were visible; and this continued until darkness cut off the view. To-day none are to be seen. Except under protection, buffalo have practically become extinct. Elk, moose, deer, antelope, and mountain sheep are gradually retiring to more and more secluded mountain recesses. Year by year game areas become more restricted, even in the mountain regions. The lumberman and railway-tie cutter, the advance-guard of a constantly increasing civilization, are steadily encroaching upon the haunts of game.
Large areas of the Rocky Mountain country are timberless and in great part waterlessduring portions of the year. In such sections the bare rocks carry very little soil and afford an insufficient food-supply for game. In many instances where the natural conditions would otherwise be favorable, the mountains rise as long narrow ridges between relatively broad valleys. On the occupation of the lowlands by a steadily increasing population, such game-resorts became easily accessible to butchers and skin-hunters. The game was either soon killed off, or the instinct of self-preservation taught the animals to abandon their haunts for more secluded pastures. No better instance of the quickness with which animals perceive danger need be mentioned than their migration from the Big Horn Mountains, when that once admirable game-country was suddenly invaded by hunters from all parts of the world. It is true that the game was slaughtered in vast numbers, but it is equally true that the animals migrated to less disturbed regions. For years the Big Horn Mountains have been known as a gameless country; "shot out" was the expressive phrase applied to them by hide and horn hunters. The urgentnecessity for game-preservation, if it is desired to protect our larger animals from extermination, is apparent.
At the time the Yellowstone Park was set aside, the country was almost aterra incognita; its boundaries were ill defined. Since then it has become famous throughout the world, and is annually visited by thousands of people, attracted there by many scientific and scenic features. Gradually its importance became known, both as a national forest reservation and as a natural storage reservoir, which, if properly protected, will supply through broad rivers the arid regions below with much-needed waters. Its fitness for a grand national game reservation soon became manifest to a few people familiar with the far West, and with the disappearance elsewhere of our large Rocky Mountain animals. The necessity for rules against the shooting of any and all animals was early recognized, and for several years such rules have been strictly enforced with beneficial results.
In recent years, with a better understanding of the country, its timber, water supply, the picturesqueness of its scenery, and itsnatural advantages for game, an effort has been made to enlarge the reservation on the south and east and to clearly mark its boundaries. By this proposed enlargement, the sources of the Yellowstone and Snake rivers, and the greater part of the Absaroka Range on the east, would be included within the Park. It is believed that this additional territory will before long be made a part of the Park reservation by the action of Congress, as it has already been set aside as a timber reservation and placed in charge of the superintendent of the Park. In speaking, therefore, of the superior advantages of the region as a home for animals, the timber reservation will be meant as well as the Park itself.
The area of the Yellowstone Park, as at present defined, is somewhat more than 3300 square miles. The central portion is a broad volcanic plateau between 7000 and 8500 feet above sea-level, with an average elevation of 8000 feet. Surrounding it on the south, east, north, and northwest, lying partly within and partly without the Park lines, are mountain-ranges with culminating peaks and ridges rising from 2000 to 4000 feet abovethe general level of the inclosed table-land. Beyond the mountains the country falls away on all sides, the lowlands and valleys varying in altitude from 4000 to 6000 feet. The entire region stands out as a bold mountain mass, measuring approximately 75 miles in width by 60 miles in length, which rises high above the adjoining country.
Although it is commonly so called, the central portion of this mass is not, strictly speaking, a plateau; at least it is by no means a level region, but an undulating country, broken by abrupt escarpments and long table-like ridges of gently inclined rocks. It is accidented by shallow depressions and valleys of varied outline, the irregularities of lava flows adding much to the diversity of surface forms and features. Deep cañons and gorges cut the plateau, and penetrate nearly to the base of the accumulated lavas. These nearly horizontal lavas rest against the steeper slopes of the encircling mountains. The foot-hills, in contrast with the plateau, afford a more broken character, the intermontane valleys become deeper, the country gradually growing rougher until the highersummit of the ranges present an indescribable array of crags and precipices reaching far above the timber-line. The Rocky Mountains nowhere offer a rougher tract of country than the Absaroka Range bordering the Park on the east. Such an elevated mass naturally becomes a storm center, attracting moisture-laden clouds. The concentration and precipitation of this moisture in the form of rain and snow furnishes during the year an amount of water exceptionally large for the Rocky Mountains. An abundant supply of rain and snow favors a forest growth, which in turn aids to conserve the water. In consequence a luxuriant growth of nutritious grasses springs up, accompanied by a varied undergrowth of bush and shrub. Observation of mountain, valley, and plateau shows that about 84 per cent. of the Park is forest-clad. Over the greater part of the timber reservation the proportion of forest is not quite so great, much of the higher mountains being above timber-line, or else in the southern part more open and park-like, with long stretches of grass-lands dotted here and there with groups of picturesque pines.
Across the plateau, with a very sinuous course, stretches the Continental Divide, separating the waters of the Atlantic from those of the Pacific. On the plateau on both sides of this divide lie magnificent sheets of water, notably the Yellowstone, Shoshone, Lewis and Heart lakes, forming a most characteristic feature of the country. This part of the Park has been designated the "lake region." Hundreds of smaller lakes and ponds occupy depressions either in the ancient lava flows or in basins of glacial origin. Scattered over plateau and mountain are bogs, marshes, and meadows in marked contrast to most of the Rocky Mountain country. Innumerable perennial springs reach the surface from beneath the rocks. Around the borders of these lakes and ponds stretch fringes of alpine meadows, affording excellent grazing-grounds. Yellowstone Lake, with a shore-line of nearly 100 miles, is encircled by old lake terraces and glacial benches covered with bunch grass and capable of supporting large herds of wild animals. To one familiar with the plateau along the continental watershed it is possible to travel for miles keepingclear of timber by following from one to the other the open, winding glades and long stretches of meadows and shallow drainage-channels which carry the melting snows to the sources of the Yellowstone and Snake rivers. It is in these secluded nooks and sheltered spots that one finds the game.
A reservation for the protection and maintenance of our large game under natural conditions requires an extensive region unbroken by an area adapted for the abode of man or subject to the disturbances of a continuous traffic. With the rapid encroachments of civilization in the Rocky Mountains, these conditions demand that the country set apart should be unfit for agricultural purposes, and free from mineral resources to tempt the cupidity of the advance-guard of settlers. The Yellowstone Park meets the requirements of such a natural reservation better than any other locality that could be selected. The severity of its climate during the greater part of the year renders the region a forbidding one for settlement and permanent occupation by man. On the other hand, the broad expanse of forest incloses sequesterednooks, and enticing grassy parks, with absolute seclusion in mountain recesses admirably adapted for the homes of wild animals. It is the great diversity of its physical features, offering within a restricted area all the requirements for animal life, which fits it for the home of big game. Abundant food supply, shelter from wind and weather in winter, cool resorts on the uplands in summer, favorable localities for breeding purposes and the rearing of young, all are found here. The Park supplies what is really needed—a zoölogical reservation where big game may roam unmolested by the intrusion of man, rather than a zoölogical garden inclosed by fences, and the game fed or sustained more or less by artificial methods. To most travelers who make the accustomed tour and seldom leave the beaten track, it is a surprise and regret that they see so little game, and they are apt to question its existence in any considerable numbers. In summer the game seldom frequents the geyser basins or places of popular resort, but wanders about undisturbed by the throng of pleasure-seekers. If one wishes to see game he mustleave the dusty roads and noisy stages, and travel by pack-train the unfrequented trails into the secluded portions of the Park. Few care to take this trouble, as the rules, rigidly enforced, prevent the trying of their skill with the rifle, when they meet the objects of their search. For game protection scouts, foresters, and gamekeepers are required. These could not well be supplied, except at great expense, were it not that the natural wonders of the region, which each season attracts such large crowds, demand for the maintenance of peace and order that United States troops be stationed there for the protection of the Park, and the observance of the necessary rules and regulations. All the large game animals of the northern Rocky Mountains are known in the Park except the white goat (Mazama montana) and the caribou (Rangifer tarandus), and it seems probable that the former, if introduced, would remain, as their favorite haunts, mountain fastnesses, are not unlike the Absarokas. Elk, moose, deer, antelope, mountain sheep, buffalo, and bears are found. Of all the game, elk most abound, roamingover mountain, plateau, and valley alike, the higher portions in summer, the lower in winter. For elk, the park is an ideal country. They frequent the alpine meadows and grassy terraces, passing freely from one to the other of the open uplands. Where streams flow through these openings, or ponds occupy shallow depressions, the elk resort to them in large numbers during summer and autumn. The accompanying picture gives an excellent illustration of such a favorite haunt.
In midsummer cows and calves frequent the picturesque park-like country near the sources of the Snake River. In my opinion, the head waters of the Snake furnish one of the best breeding grounds for elk anywhere to be found. In winter they descend to the broad valley-bottoms, where food is accessible and shelter easily obtained. In traveling over the country about these feeders to the Snake, I have been impressed by the apparent absence of elk, yet the first heavy autumnal snow will drive them from the mountains to the lowlands, the freshly fallen snow being tramped down by hundreds of elk tracks coming from all directions. In the more rugged portions of the country along the summit of the ridges, elk are seldom seen, although well-worn trails traverse the passes of the range at high altitudes, and may be safely followed by travelers as the easiest routes across the mountains.
A Mountain Pasture.Photographed from life by W. H. Weed.
In an unexplored country, elk trails afford the best means of travel; they are well laid out and lead to good camping-grounds. Moreover, if there are any outlooks in the forest, or bare points on cliff or cañon wall, the trails will pretty surely take one there. I am much indebted to the elk for fine points of observation. Animals are not supposed to be lovers of nature. As regards the elk, this, I think, is an error. From long observation, I believe they have an appreciation of the picturesque and the grand. So thoroughly have I felt this that frequently when encamped in some beautiful and secluded nook, I have strolled away from the noise of the camp with a firm belief that at dusk these animals would visit the spot, attracted by its beauties, if by nothing else.
Possibly there are sportsmen who, having shot their elk, are not again attracted toward them, as toward other big game; they areeasily killed, and the shooting of them becomes slaughter. Deer and antelope are more graceful and less easy to get a shot at than elk. Mountain sheep offer far more excitement in the chase over rugged cliffs. White goats are seldom seen, save in limited areas and out-of-the-way regions. Buffalo are now so rarely seen that to come upon one in the wilds is the ambition of the hunter. Bear-hunting must always be exciting on account of the element of danger. Preferring not to use the rifle, the pleasures of the chase do not enter into my enjoyment of animal life, and to me elk are the most interesting of all big game, and a constant source of pleasure. I never tire of watching them, they show so much individuality and independence of character and stateliness of manner. In spite of the fact that they are gregarious and fond of companionship, they show less affection for each other than almost any other animal.
I have much feeling in common with an old Scotch friend of mine, a lover of nature and a frequenter of forest and mountain, who spent a fortnight in the Park with the express purpose of reproducing upon his bagpipe thoseremarkable notes, the whistling of the elk, but with only partial success. The story is told that the elk left that part of the country, and he was unable to keep up with them.
That there are several thousand elk in the Park and adjoining country is quite certain, but from the nature of the case it is a difficult matter to estimate them. Their number may vary from year to year, depending upon the severity of the winter and other causes. Exceptionally severe seasons would naturally cause an increased death-rate. At all events, they exist in numbers sufficient to put at rest all fear of extermination if they shall only be protected and allowed to wander undisturbed. Several favorable seasons might cause them to reach the limit of a winter's food supply, but overcrowding must tend to a high death-rate, and the struggle for existence would keep their number down. The migratory habits of the elk would lead them to seek new haunts beyond the protected region, offering every year opportunities for healthy, manly sport to the ambitious hunter during the shooting-season.
Moose have been observed in this regiononly to a limited degree, but probably they occur in somewhat larger numbers than is generally supposed. While they are migratory in habit, their requirements restrict their favorite haunts to limited and inaccessible areas, and they prefer swampy and boggy regions in the lowlands to the meadows and grassy parks of the uplands. They roam mainly in the southwest corner of the Park, in the Falls River Basin, a level country fed by innumerable streams and springs coming out from beneath the lavas of the plateau. As this basin lies partly in Idaho, beyond the borders of the Park, and the moose wander in and out of the reservation, their protection is a matter of great difficulty; yet it is important, not only on account of their scarcity, but because it is near the southern limit of their range. They do not travel in large bands, and a country tramped up by moose is unknown in the Park. In many instances they have probably been mistaken for elk. I have detected their footprints in the broad valley of the Snake, below the mouth of Lewis River, and also in the Lower Geyser Basin, on Sentinel Creek, a small area, but one admirablyfitted for their needs. They have been seen on the borders of the Lake of the Woods, and on the head of Stinking Water River east of Yellowstone Lake.
Two varieties of deer inhabit the Park, commonly known as the black-tail and white-tail deer, the former being much the more abundant of the two. Being fleet of foot, they roam over the entire area in passing from one pasturage ground to another. They show a decided preference for gently sloping foot-hills carrying a scattered growth of mingled pine and maple and other deciduous trees, their natural habitat being the border-land between dense forest and open valley. Such favorite spots affording food, shelter, and shade abound, and present one of the most characteristic features of an ideal park country. Deer haunt the valleys of the Gallatin Range and the lava slopes around the head of Black Tail Deer Creek, which flows into the Yellowstone; but more than any other animal they seem to delight in changing their habitat. The ideal country for deer is that paradise for big game, the valleys of the numerous streams forming the sources of the Snake.While by no means as numerous as elk, deer are found in sufficient numbers to allay all anxiety as to their permanence under the new conditions now surrounding the Park.
Antelope, graceful and swift-footed creatures, restrict their range to the open country, with habits nearly identical to those developed on the plain. They are by no means numerous, and were so much shot at before protection was afforded that they nearly became extinct. But in the last few years they have steadily increased in numbers, and experience seems to have taught them that safety lies within the protected region, rather than in seeking in winter the lowlands outside its borders. Swan Valley and the slopes of Mount Everts apparently satisfy their requirements. In summer small bands roam over Hayden Valley, but so far as I know have not increased in size.
The advantages of this region as a game reservation are again shown in its meeting the requirements of the bighorn, or mountain sheep (Ovis canadensis), an animal of quite different habits, which lives almost wholly among the crags and cliffs of the steepestmountains. An ideal bighorn country is found in the Absaroka Range, where the bare rocky slopes are interspersed with patches of nutritious grasses. The size of their bands, the frequent well-worn trails over the barren rocks, and the occurrence of sheep "sign" everywhere, indicate conditions suitable to sheep life. The head waters of the Stinking Water and Thoroughfare Creek are among their favorite haunts. In the higher regions of the Gallatin they may occasionally be seen, and, indeed, this may be said of the summits of most of the peaks throughout the Park. They are an agile, wary, keen-scented animal, and apparently never so happy as when on the jump. Next to the elk, they are probably most sought by the horn-hunters and game-butchers; but with a little protection, and only half a show, they are abundantly capable of taking care of themselves.
That buffalo were among the animals inhabiting the Yellowstone Park was known in the early days of its history; and that indefatigable explorer and former superintendent of the Park, Colonel P. W. Norris, soon recognized the need of protection for them if theirextermination was to be prevented. The Park buffalo may all be classed under the head of mountain buffalo, and even in this elevated region they live for the greater part of the year in the timber. In many ways their habits are quite different from those generally attributed to the buffalo of the plain, and it is most unusual, save in midwinter, to find them in open valley or on the treeless mountain slope. They haunt the most inaccessible and out-of-the-way places, and what would seem to be the least attractive spots, living in open glades and pastures, the oases of the dense forest, often only to be reached by climbing over a tangle of fallen timber. Localities least visited by man and avoided by other animals are by preference selected by buffalo. During long wanderings over the timber plateau I have never ceased to be amazed at the resorts selected by them, and by the rapidity of their disappearance on being alarmed. I have frequently come upon ground tramped up by buffalo, showing every evidence of recent occupation, but the animals were gone. It is surprising how few buffalo have been seen in midsummer, even by thosemost familiar with their haunts and habits. They wander about in small bands in such unfrequented country as the southern end of the Madison plateau, the Mirror plateau, and the head of Pelican Creek, and on the borders of that elevated table-land known as Elephant Back. In winter, leaving the forest, they feed over the slopes of Specimen Ridge, and in the open Hayden Valley.
It is not likely that there ever were many buffalo in the Park, or that those there ever suffered seriously from the hand of man other than the Indian. Up to within recent years the plains buffalo offered a more attractive field for the hunter nearer home. Their abodes in the Park were inaccessible and far away from any base of supplies. Only since their extermination from the plains and the advance of settlements to the Park border have inroads upon their numbers taken place. If they ever roamed over this country in large herds, evidence of the fact should be apparent by well-trodden buffalo trails, which nowhere form a feature of the Park plateau. Whether the natural increase in their numbers has been kept down by the severity of theclimate and an uncongenial environment, or whether the young calves have been attacked by predatory animals, has never been satisfactorily determined. Dangers which would scarcely befall them in an open country might in a timbered region tend to keep down their numbers. They occasionally wander beyond the Park borders into Idaho and Montana with the first fall of snow, returning to their mountain homes with the approach of spring. In 1884 I estimated the buffalo in the Park at 200; since that time they have gradually increased, and have probably doubled in number. In the winter of 1891-92 the grazing-ground in Hayden Valley was visited by a snowshoe party, who counted the scattered bands and took photographs of several groups. These groups were generally small, and each contained a goodly number of calves. They numbered by actual count nearly 300, but there is no means of knowing what proportion of the Park buffalo were then gathered here.
Buffalo Cows and Calves.Photographed from life by John Fossam. From Forest and Stream.
Bears of all kinds that inhabit the northern Rocky Mountains are found in the Park. The natural conditions of the country—a dense pine forest; a soil producing a variety of wild fruits, berries, and roots; a slowly decaying vegetation upon which flourish grubs and ants, delicate morsels to Bruin—all tend to furnish an environment suitable to the omnivorous bear. Black bears are the most common, but silver-tips abound, many of them of great size and strength. They are undoubtedly increasing in numbers, but unless attacked are harmless; and of the thousands of visitors to the Park every year I have yet to learn of one injured by them.
Of the smaller animals, such as the different kinds of theFelidæ,—including mountain-lions,—foxes, wolves, porcupines, nothing need be said, save that they find within the reservation the essential conditions of a home. Two animals, however,—the wolverene and the beaver,—demand more than mere mention: the former on account of its rarity in the Rocky Mountains, and the consequent danger it runs of extermination, and the latter on account of the never-failing interest which they excite in the tourist, and the frequency with which their dams and habitations may be seen along the traveled routes. The wolvereneis now seldom, if ever, reported from the country south of the Park, and must be considered one of the rarest of animals within its borders. Its predatory nature renders it a most undesirable animal near settlements, but this is no good reason why it should not be protected in the mountains. It is a stealthy, cautious animal, moving about without the least noise. I have seen but four, and these on meadow-lands underlaid by a deep soil. As they are supposed to live largely on rodents, they were doubtless seeking food among the burrowing animals. Although they are regarded as great robbers, in the hundreds of camps I have pitched within the Park my attention has never been called to the tracks of a prowling wolverene.
The numerous broad, flat valleys, cut into the plateaus and mountains, are singularly well fitted for the home of beaver. The meadows filling these valleys, the clear streams flowing through them, and the seclusion which they offer, are exceptional inducements and are all necessary requirements for their haunts. With the growth of population it is probable that a very considerableamount of trapping was carried on in early days, and their numbers greatly reduced. Of late years, special vigilance has been exercised to prevent the trapping and molestation of the Park beaver, but it has been by no means easy to accomplish this, on account of the remoteness of many of the best-stocked streams, and the high price of the skins, which tempts the cupidity of the trapper. Captain George S. Anderson, the present superintendent of the Park, believes the beaver are steadily increasing, and this is no doubt the fact, in view of the efforts that he has made to stop all trapping.
Innumerable streams flowing from the mountains to the central plateau, magnificent lakes, the sources of grand rivers, and a river system divided into four drainage basins, make the region singularly well suited for fish life. Exploration soon developed the fact that, while many of these rivers and lakes abounded in trout, others, above the waterfalls which form so characteristic a feature of the streams between the plateau and the lowlands, were wholly destitute of fish. In the spring of 1887 I addressed a letter tothe late Professor Baird, calling his attention to the importance of stocking these waters, more especially Shoshone Lake, for the benefit of the people. At that time it was not considered feasible to take up the matter. Since then these waters have undergone careful investigation, and, as a result, have been stocked with fish under the supervision of Professor B. W. Evermann, of the United States Fish Commission, who reports that the different species of trout planted are doing well, so far as can be told at this early date. Six varieties—brook, lake, mountain, rainbow, Loch Leven, and Von Behr trout—have been placed in one or the other of the different drainage basins. In Shoshone and Lewis lakes both the common lake trout and the Loch Leven variety were planted. The Yellowstone Park is destined to rank as one of the favorite resorts of the angler,—fishing, under the proper regulations, becoming one of the many attractions of the place.
Nearly all birds common to the northern Rocky Mountains resort to this region during certain portions of every year. Migratory birds, like ducks and geese, live for monthsupon many small lakes dotted over the Park, rearing their young without the least fear of molestation. Pelicans find a home around the shores of Yellowstone Lake and the bottom-lands of its tributaries. That graceful creature and rare bird, the white swan, may frequently be seen on Yellowstone Lake, and on three separate visits to that secluded sheet of water, Riddle Lake, I have never failed to find several of them paddling about in its quiet waters. Eagles, fish-hawks, and ospreys soar above the forest, building their nests upon the summits of the crags and pinnacles in the wildest and most inaccessible places. It is always an impressive sight to see that magnificent bird, the bald-headed eagle, flying high over the lakes, crossing and recrossing the wooded continental watershed, equally at home among the sources of the Mississippi and Columbia, undisturbed by his only really dangerous enemy, rifle-bearing man.
The preservation of animal life, as it exists to-day under natural conditions within a government reservation, may be purely a matter of sentiment; but surely this grand possessionmust be worth every effort to preserve it, even at considerable cost of time and money. With the encroachments of civilization, the demands of those seeking to use the Park for their own selfish ends must in the nature of things steadily increase. Pressure for timber and water privileges, and rights of way for railroad purposes, will constantly arise. The larger part of the timber reservation should become an integral part of the Park, as much of the game, and its best breeding-grounds, lie within this reservation. Let Congress adjust the boundaries in the best interests of the Park and the needs of traffic, clearly defining them in accordance with the present knowledge of the country, and then forever keep this grand national reservation intact. After this is done, the Park can be maintained only by the constant vigilance of enthusiastic friends, who realize its value for economic reasons, and believe in the purposes of the organic act setting it apart forever as a pleasure-ground for the people.
Arnold Hague.
My acquaintance with Lanahan began at Eagle Rock, Idaho, in August, 1890, where we met to undertake a trip into Jackson's Hole. Mr. Melville Hanna and I had come from the east to make a hunt, and Lanahan had been engaged to purchase and superintend our outfit by a railway official at Boise, whom he had impressed with a belief in his remarkable fitness for both purposes.
When we reached Eagle Rock, Lanahan was on hand with eight pack-horses, an elderly man called Mason, and an Englishman as cook. The cook claimed to have practised his vocation in the service of a duke on land, and an admiral on the deep, each of whom parted from him with a grief he was unable to conceal. He had come west for recreation and from a desire to see the country, was accustomed to riding, consequent upon having followed the hounds with his ducal employer, and intended, after seeing ussafely back from our trip, to return to the assistance of the admiral, whose ship was on the way to Halifax. On inspecting Lanahan's list of supplies, we found that he had bought a good-sized stove and an assortment of delicacies such as I am sure never started for Jackson's Hole before. There were oysters put up in various ways, tins of cauliflower, peas, all the fruits of the Occident, and numerous exotic preserves which we had never heard of. The array looked too great for our eight horses to carry, and when we started next day this proved to be the fact.
Lanahan was a big burly fellow with a most repulsive countenance and with great powers of conversation. He had lived so long in the West that he had lost the manner of speech of his native isle, except when excited or frightened, and he regaled us the evening before starting with thrilling tales of his personal exploits with Indians and wild beasts. He professed to have passed years as the confidential scout of Howard, Custer, and Crook, and the last named owed the fame he had attained as an Indian-fighter to his implicit adherence to Lanahan's advice onseveral critical occasions. As to game, he had fairly wallowed in the gore of bears and lions, and he promised to escort me to my first encounter with a silver-tip, the death of which was to be brought about by my opening fire on him at 600 yards and keeping it up during the ensuing charge, Lanahan standing by peacefully until the bear rose to embrace me, when he would give him thecoup de grâcewith "Old Nance," as he fondly called his rifle. He also announced his intention of shooting any Indians who might come to our camp, if they did not promptly leave at his bidding.
Next morning Mason and Lanahan began packing, and Lanahan showed by the humility with which he endured the deserved abuse of Mason that he was as ignorant of the art as we afterward found him of every other, except that of dissimulation. Mason was finally obliged to substitute our cook as helper, and Lanahan, in order to recover his prestige, spoke of the dangerous character of the horse-thieves of Jackson's Hole, and showed a map of the country made by old Jackson himself, then languishing in Boisejail, also a letter from the same hand introducing Lanahan to the present head of the association, who would, on its presentation, protect our stock and return without cost any that had previously been stolen. At starting, Hanna and I went on ahead, and were presently joined by Mason and the cook with the packs; but as Lanahan did not appear, we sent back Mason, who produced him in about an hour, quite flushed as to his countenance and uncertain as to his speech, but with that part of his intellect devoted to lying as unclouded as ever. His delay, he stated, had been caused by his horse rearing and falling on him, whereat he became so faint from pain that he was unable to move until after a long rest and the administration of a teaspoonful of the best brandy every fifteen minutes. About this time the packs began to loosen and get lopsided, and one of the pack-horses, called Emigrant, would occasionally lie down, and have to be assisted to his feet by the united strength of the party. We were able to keep him going only by having the cook lead him while Hanna and I beset him with blows in the rear.
In consequence of these misfortunes, our progress was so slow that we made camp that night only six miles from our starting-point. The next night we reached Big Butte Ferry, the trouble about the packs keeping up, and Emigrant growing more and more averse to the exertions required from him. At this point we "cached" the stove, stovepipe, and half a dozen of our most useless pots and pans despite the remonstrances of our cook, and engaged a young man named Joe, who had been out for a month prospecting for coal, but was quite willing to turn back with us. Reaching the village of Kaintuck at noon, we camped in the corral of the livery-stable, and in less than half an hour our cook betook himself to one of the neighboring saloons, where we shortly found him so drunk as to be incapable of speech or motion, but—as we judged from never seeing him again—still able to understand that he was discharged.
During the afternoon we fell into conversation with a bright, active-looking fellow who came to call on us; and, finding that he was familiar with the Teton country, had huntedand trapped around Jackson's Lake, and claimed to be an expert packer and first-class cook, we added him to our party in these capacities. Later, Lanahan came to us in great agitation, and said that Harrington, our new man, was a very dangerous character, and had just been pardoned from jail, where he was serving a twenty-five years' sentence for horse-stealing; that he had broken out once, and had been recaptured only after an exciting chase of seventy-five miles, during which he had been shot in the leg. We asked Harrington about this. He admitted its substantial truth, but said he was innocent of the crime, and had been the victim of malicious persecution by some men who wanted to "jump" his ranch in the Teton valley; so we decided to take him along, and did not regret it. The disposition by sale for $20 of a large quantity of our delicacies to the Mormon storekeeper at Kaintuck lessened the weight of our packs, which Harrington made up next morning in less than half the usual time, to the evident disgust of Lanahan and Mason. Before leaving the town, Harrington took me to a saloon where hung severaldrawings he had made of elk and Indians, which were as true to nature in their general features as anything of the kind I have ever seen, and caused me to believe that he only needed education to make him distinguished. He had never had any instruction, and his only artistic implement was a lead-pencil.
When we reached the Teton Valley, Lanahan, who had taken up riding ahead to "look out the trail," which was as definite as Broadway, and to protect us against the dangers which encompassed our path, learned from a passer-by that fifty lodges of Lemhi Indians were before us on a hunt. He called Hanna and me to one side, when he conveyed this information, and said he was now convinced of what he had suspected from the first, that Harrington's joining us was part of a plot between him and the Lemhis to facilitate the running off of our horses, and an incidental murder or two, if necessary. That night we camped on the west side of Mount Hayden, the biggest of the Tetons, close by the place where the Indians had stayed a few days before; and Lanahan armed himself and climbed a little peak at some distance fromthe trail to "look for Indian signs," as he said. At the fire, after supper, he informed us that years ago he was well acquainted with old Teton, after whom the mountains were named, and who had lived in the valley when it was fairly alive with game.
The Grand Teton, now so wretchedly mis-named, is to my mind the most magnificent of mountains. Its situation, its isolation from neighbors, its great height, its vast hollows and chasms, many of them filled with perpetual snow, and its lofty, bare, inaccessible peak, always impress me with a sense of grandeur, majesty, and beauty, such as I have never found in any other mountain.
About this time Lanahan abandoned all activity except looking for Indians, poisoning our minds against Harrington, and attempting the "horse-wrangling" each morning. He would start out alone quite early, and after blundering about in a most inefficient way, and getting all the nervous horses thoroughly excited and scared, would call some of the other men to his assistance, and then proceed himself to get the packs in as great confusion as possible before the horseswere brought in, the one or two that he had caught meantime having escaped.
The next night, before we crossed the divide into Jackson's Hole through Trail Creek Cañon, we had a very heavy thunder-storm, and in the intervals between the peals we could hear Lanahan's vociferous invocations to the various saints he relied upon for protection, his appeals mingling with the damning he was getting from his tent-mates for the disturbance he created. He was so much demoralized by the storm, and by the chance of overtaking the Indians, who were evidently not far ahead of us, that he endured all this abuse with perfect meekness, and did not recover his usual intrepid bearing until the next noon, when he resumed his ostentatious superintendence of the outfit.
Our first camp after crossing the divide was at Fighting Bear Creek, and was made memorable by killing a two-year-old bull elk, the toughest of his race; but fresh meat had become so desirable that his india-rubber qualities were not unfavorably criticized until we got something better.
A man coming down the valley told usthat the band of Indians had divided, most of them going south, and ten or twelve men and squaws northward, in the direction we were to take. This somewhat reassured Lanahan, though he strongly advised staying where we were for a time, and then striking east into the Gros Ventre Mountains, where he knew of great quantities of game. The stranger also told us of the disappearance of Mr. Robert Ray Hamilton from his new ranch at the upper crossing of Snake River.
We made our permanent camp directly under the peak of the Grand Teton, on the east side. It was in a little park surrounded by pines. Cottonwood Creek, a beautiful sparkling stream, flowed through it, and above us were the grand mountain masses, feeding from their snow-clad sides the chain of little lakes along their bases, which in turn replenish the mighty Snake River during all the rainless summer months. I have never seen so delightful a camping-ground, nor one which supplied so completely every requisite for comfort and sport. Our hunting adventures during the next ten days in this camp were not remarkable, though we might havekilled a large amount of game had we desired. There were a great many antelope out on the prairie, and every morning we could see some in the park. I once aroused the curiosity of a solitary buck to the point of coming up within thirty yards of me by concealing myself in the sage-brush and waving about my wide-brimmed hat on the end of my rifle. We found antelope liver the choicest delicacy to be had in the Rockies, and this fact perhaps led us to kill one or two more of these graceful and interesting creatures than we should otherwise have done.
It was hardly late enough for the bull elk to come down from the high ranges to join the cows and calves. Two large bands of these ranged between us and Jackson's Lake, about fourteen miles north. We could have shot some of these almost daily, but one of the men, contrary to our orders, having gone out and killed two calves soon after our arrival, Hanna and I agreed, after he had shot one cow, not to fire at anything except bulls, and we were guiltless of the blood of any more elk during our stay. One day, near Jackson's Lake, Harrington and I came to asalt-lick in the woods, which we approached quietly, thinking game might be there. When we reached the edge, we saw a big cow elk standing among the trees on the other side of the open space, and directly after, another one lying down in the high grass near the first, only her head and neck being visible. She saw us, but did not stir. Keeping perfectly still and looking closely, we discovered seven or eight more, but none with horns. Finally, stepping forward, thinking we had seen them all, a great number jumped up, going out like a covey of quail. Some had been lying down in the high grass within twenty yards of us, and could not have known of our presence. They made a great noise and crashing as they scurried off, and we could only guess at their numbers, but there must have been thirty or forty.
There were not many bears about here. We saw the tracks of several very big ones, but only four living ones. One of these disappeared before we could get a shot, and the other three, an old cinnamon with two well-grown cubs, we found at the top of one of the lower peaks of the Grand Teton near camp.It had taken Hanna and me three hours' hard climbing to get near the summit, where we expected to find some of the bull elk we had heard whistling, and the tracks of which we saw fresh and plentiful as we ascended.
We were moving very quietly along the game trail, Hanna ahead, when he suddenly stopped and pointed about seventy-five yards in front, where we saw the two cubs playing on some rocks overhanging a deep gulch. We fired nearly simultaneously. My cub dropped dead, while Hanna's, badly wounded, started up the mountain howling his best. It was not ten seconds before the mother appeared, not fifteen yards ahead of us, charging down the trail looking as big as a horse and growling savagely. Hanna, being a step in front of me, fired, and the bear dropped, but was up in an instant and came straight on. He shot again, and again she dropped, but was up like a rubber ball. The third time the cartridge failed to explode. The bear turned a little out of the trail, evidently bewildered, but as vicious as ever. As she passed me, within ten feet, I shot, and the ball pierced the heart, but it required two moreof the 45-90 bullets to kill her. She was one of the long-legged greyhound kind, but quite fat; and, judging from the impression she made on a small tree she ran against and clawed like an angry cat, she would have badly damaged any man she might have met. Her jaw had been shattered by Hanna's first shot; the second had traversed her body, and there were two through her heart. Her vitality was really astonishing. We got the wounded cub, but the other had rolled down the gulch; and as we could not reach him without a long detour, we left him behind. We skinned the two animals and packed their hides to camp on our backs, finding the loads very heavy before we reached there.
Porcupines were very plentiful, as they are in most parts of the Rockies, and grow to a great size. They sometimes fall victims to bears, which manage to turn them over and get at the unprotected parts, eating everything but the quill-covered skin. In one day's hunt I saw the remains of three that had been thus treated. Bears also dig up the nests of yellow-jackets for the larvæ they contain; and we came upon a nest so latelyrifled that many of its former occupants were still buzzing angrily about.
After pleasant days spent at this camp, we packed up and started north to go through the Yellowstone Park. As we were passing out of Jackson's Hole, we looked back and had a superb view of the great valley with the Snake River winding through it, the bare ranges of the Gros Ventre Mountains, and the towering snow-capped rocky peaks of the Tetons—a wonderful picture.
The day after leaving Marymere ranch, we saw, as we were making camp, three Indians watching us from a distant hill. Lanahan's consternation was extreme, and he declared that we must take turns watching through the night. As nobody paid much attention to him, except to encourage his going personally, he loaded his rifle, put on his cartridge-belt full of ammunition, and started out after supper ostensibly to guard us, but we felt sure to conceal himself somewhere in safety from the impending attack, which would have been welcome if it had bereaved us of him. Next morning he intimated that the savages had been prowling about, and thatwe owed the protection of our scalps to his vigilance. This idea of his was strengthened by the appearance, while we were breakfasting, of a Lemhi Indian on a beautiful pony. He could not or would not speak any English, and Harrington conversed with him in the sign-language, to our great interest, as we had never seen it used before.
Our journey to the Lower Geyser basin was unmarked by anything startling, though Lanahan was much discomposed one night by two men who had come down from the Stinking Water and camped near us. He was so convinced that they were in league with Harrington that he "watched" the horses all night. At the basin we started the outfit back to Boise with Lanahan and Mason, and joined our families, who were awaiting us. We heard afterward that Lanahan was a prey to the liveliest terrors while in the Park, and paid a man $10 to watch the horses the two nights before he got out of Harrington's reach. We have never heard of Lanahan since, but his memory will ever be green.
Dean Sage.
One bright, cold November day I started from a ranch on the Little Missouri, in western Dakota, with the set purpose of getting venison for the ever hungry cow-boys. They depended solely upon me for their supply of fresh meat; and as for some time I had shot nothing, I had been the subject of disparaging comment for several days, and the foreman, in particular, suggested that I should stay at home and kill a steer, and not chase all the black-tails into the next county.
So I stole off this time with an almost guilty conscience, and plunged at once into the dense brush of the river-bottom. In the thicket I startled a Virginia deer, but knew it to be one only by the waving salute of its white flag. I also passed a tree in one of the forks of which I had, at another time, found an old muzzle-loading rifle, rusted, worn, and decaying, a whole history in itself, and beyond, not two hundred yards away, an Indian'sskull with a neat round hole through the crown.
The Keogh stage road crossed the river near by, and I found out that the place was the scene of the last Indian deviltry in this section. It was the old story. A man, while looking for the stage-horses, was shot; a second, hearing the report, went out to see what it meant, and was in turn killed; while a third, with perhaps a little more experience, jumped on the only horse left at the station and fled for his life, with half a dozen Indians in full cry in pursuit.
I walked on along the old trail taken by the lucky fugitive, and up out of the river-valley to a level plateau above. From the top could be seen in the distance several big buttes, and a dark pine-tree, which was to be my objective point for the day's hunt. To the right, as I stepped briskly forward, was a large washout, cut deep into the clay soil, broken and irregular, with sage-brush scattered here and there along its sides and bottom. At the head of the washout I spied some yellow long-horned Texas cattle, and gave them a wide berth. I had had somepleasing experiences of their habits, and did not care just then to be stamped flat.
To the left, a few hundred yards away, was a long valley leading to the river and far out into the prairie, wooded in patches, with small pockets at intervals along the sides, filled with low brush. Here at other times I had jumped whitetails from their daytime naps, and once had had a running shot at a large prairie-wolf. Bearing all this in mind, I veered over toward the valley, and had not gone far when I saw in the distance a black-tail buck come skipping out of it, and moving with high, long bounds, as is the way of its kind when frightened or going at speed.
These bounds, by the way, are very curious: the animal lands on all four feet at once, in such a small area that a sombrero would cover the four footprints. On a few occasions, when very badly frightened, I have seen them run level, like a race-horse; but that gait is so unusual as hardly to be considered characteristic of this deer. The deer in question, after a few long jumps, settled down into a trot, then into a walk, and finally stopped and looked about. Hedid not see me, however, and when he again moved off there was a man jogging quietly along in his wake.
Taking advantage of every little hollow to keep from his sight and make a spurt, I soon reduced the distance between us, and arrived at the further edge of the plateau just in time to see him disappear in some broken country. Continuing cautiously on to where I had last seen him, it became apparent that he had determined upon some definite course, for his tracks led as straight as the nature of the ground would permit to what I knew was the head of a large coulée which ran into the valley from which he had come into view.
As the soil was very hard and dry, and his tracks difficult to follow, I soon determined to leave them and cut straight for the coulée below the point toward which he had been headed, thinking it likely that he would continue his course down the coulée, at least for a short distance. I ought to be able to write that "events turned out exactly as calculated," but they did not. I ran with a fair burst of speed to the edge of the coulée, andwhen, after quietly watching for twenty minutes, no deer appeared, my mind went back to the foreman's remark about killing a steer.
However, it remained for me to go up to the point where it was probable the buck entered the coulée. I accordingly did so, hunting every inch of the way, and looking for sign and whatever else might turn up. I saw nothing, however, but two grouse that startled me, as they always do, but especially when my nerves are strung up as they were just then. What course the buck had taken, was now the question. Doubling back to my old conclusion that he had gone straight, I went out of the coulée, and followed on the line he had gone. At first it led over another small plateau, then it dipped down again into some more bad lands, cut up and broken with picturesque red scoria hills covered with straggling twisted cedar-trees.
About this time my ardor for this particular buck had begun to subside, and he was now anybody's game. Being somewhat tired as well, I climbed to the top of a round clay butte, sat down, and lighted a pipe. I had been smoking for about ten minutes, enjoyingthe mysterious scenery and thinking what course it would be best to take, when again my buck loomed up for a few seconds in the distance, and once more walked quickly out of sight. This was a great surprise and pleasure, and the pace at which I set out in pursuit would have rejoiced the heart of a messenger boy. I ran as fast as I could, stopping to peer over every rise in the land, and was soon rewarded by a most interesting sight. The buck had come upon another, fully as large if not larger than himself, and they were exchanging greetings across a small washout, each extending his nose and smelling the other. They would sniff a minute and then turn their heads about, flap their long gray ears, and wiggle their short black tails, acting as if they were old friends.
It seems a great pity to shoot such noble creatures; but unfortunately this thought rarely comes at the right time for the deer. Given, a man having killed nothing for several days, unmercifully guyed by all the cow-boys, and add to that a long and lively chase after constantly vanishing venison,—when, then, the man gets within shooting distance,it is hardly at such a time that his kindly instincts will suggest the propriety of letting the poor beasts escape.
As for myself, with every muscle and nerve at tension from an exciting chase, and mind fairly satisfied of game well earned, it would have taken more self-denial than I pretend to possess not to shoot, especially since we had been living on pork for some time. When fresh meat is plentiful in camp, it is to a real sportsman no sacrifice to let the does and fawns escape, or to shoot them merely with the deadly kodak; but on this day the shack really had to have meat—those lordly heads, too.
There is always a strong desire, when one comes upon game, to shoot at once; but it is a good plan, if possible, to rest and get one's breathing apparatus into proper shape. It is most exasperating, not to say cruel, to wound a deer and have him get away; and there is a good chance of this happening if, before your hand steadies and your head clears, you begin to open fire.
From the direction of the wind it was quite evident that the deer could not scent me, so for some moments I lay watching the animalswith lively interest, and wondering what they would do next.
They were apparently satisfied with an occasional sniff at one another, but seemed at the same time to give their attention to something beyond my view. From my position on top of a small mound, or butte, where I had crawled with great caution, nothing could be seen either up or down a large washout that was between me and the deer; and I had poked my gun through a bunch of grass, and was quite prepared to shoot, when the ears, then the head and body, of a large doe, closely followed by a young buck and a yearling, came into full view.
To say that I was surprised but faintly expresses it, and for the time being all idea of shooting left me, as I watched with keenest interest the advent of the new-comers. The old doe, as if aware of her importance as the respected matron of a family, walked sedately past the two bucks without bestowing the least attention upon them, selected a grassy spot in the sun, pivoted around twice to level her bed, and quietly settled to earth, facing me. The young buck and yearling stood as if not quite decided whether to follow her example, but finally began to nibble grass and walk about. Here, indeed, was a pretty picture,—an embarrassment of riches. I thought it quite possible to get one big buck, with the chance of a good running shot at the other; and as there was no hurry, and my gun was at a dead rest for the first shot at least, I decided to shoot at the largest buck behind the ear, and then trust to occasion for whatever should follow.