American Big Game in Its Haunts - Various
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The Kussiloff hills were dotted with scattered bands, and I counted in
one large flock forty-eight, while the long and narrow valley on both
sides of the stream was sprinkled with smaller bunches containing from
two or three to twenty. It was a beautiful sight, for every ewe had at
least one, and many of them two, lambs frolicking at her side.
In addition to these sheep we saw three moose feeding in a small green
valley at the base of the opposite hills. The river was impassable for
some miles, and although they were hardly more than a mile away in a
straight line, they were quite unapproachable, so we sat and watched
them with much interest until they slowly fed into the timber.
Shortly after noon we located some large sheep on a rocky knoll across
the Killy River just below where the stream gushes out from a mighty
glacier. They were a long way off, but with the glasses we could see
that one lying apart from the others was a ram, and we surmised that if
we could see his horns at such a distance even through the glasses he
probably carried a good head.
Working down to the stream we finally found a point shallow enough to
wade. We now made a cautious and careful stalk to the place where we had
last located the sheep, but a bunch of ewes and a small ram were all
that we could see.
Hunter and I were both much disgusted, for we had expected surely to
find a head that was up to our standard.
It was well on in the afternoon when we started back to camp. We had
been going steadily over the broken hillsides since early morning, and
had met sheep at almost every turn. At the sight of us some would bound
up the steep mountain sides in great alarm, while several times at only
a couple of hundred yards others merely turned their heads in our
direction, and after observing us for a short time continued to
graze. Somehow these ewes seemed to understand that I had no intention
of 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 number
of sheep seen, there had not been one good head, and that our hard day
was all to no purpose, my man and I both began to feel pretty well
fagged out.
Late in the afternoon we paused for a brief rest and a smoke, and here
Hunter sighted two lone rams in a gulch at the top of the mountain above
us. By this time we were both pretty well used up, but the glasses
showed 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 up
to the top of a ridge which commanded a view of the gulch in which the
sheep were grazing, but they had fed some distance away by the time we
reached the place where I had expected to shoot, and were at too long a
range to make my aim certain. If we had had plenty of time, we should
have worked up the ridge nearer, and this Hunter was still anxious for
me to do, but when I saw one of the sheep suddenly raise his head and
look intently in our direction I knew my only chance was to take the
long shot. T had seen what the .30-40 Winchester rifle would do in the
hills, and the question was one of holding. However, I could count on
several shots before they ran out of sight, and even at such a distance
I 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 the
glasses, told me afterward that the ram with the more massive horns got
away, but I succeeded in wounding the other so that he was unable to
move. Knowing he would shortly die, and that I could find him the next
morning, we at once started at our best pace for camp.
We only reached our tent at nine o'clock that night, both completely
fagged out. A cup of tea made us feel better, but it was late before I
could 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 day
after 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 hard
climb to reach him, but he carried a very pretty head with massive horns
of over a full turn. I found that two shots of the seven which I had
fired had taken effect.
Two days later the native arrived from the main camp with more
provisions, and brought an interesting letter from Blake. It seemed that
some Englishmen who had been hunting in these hills just before us had
driven the big rams to the other end of the range, where my friend had
been most fortunate in finding them. He strongly advised my leaving my
present camp and coming to the country which he had just left, having
got six excellent heads. This was the limit which we had decided upon as
the number of sheep that we each wanted.
It was now apparently clear that I had been hunting at a great
disadvantage in my district. On receiving Blake's letter I at once
determined to retrace my steps to the main camp, go to the head of the
lake and follow up the trail which he had laid out upon the mountains.
Therefore the next morning (September 7) we shouldered our packs and
went over the hills to our main camp. Instead of following the trail by
which we had come, we decided to push straight across country, hoping in
this way to reach our main camp in one march. Our change of route was
unfortunate, and this day I can easily put down as the hardest one I
ever passed in the mountains.
In order to bring out all our belongings in one trip we had extra heavy
packs, and the country over which we marched was very trying. About noon
I spied sheep on one of the outlying hills, and as we came nearer I made
out through the glasses that this was a bunch of five rams, and that
three of them carried exceptionally good heads. My only chance was to
push ahead of my men, and this I did, but stalking sheep over a rough
country with a heavy pack on your back is very trying work, and I failed
to connect with these rams.
About five o'clock in the afternoon we came down over the mountains on
to the high plateau above our main camp. We were all too used up to go
any further, or even put up our light tent, although it soon began to
rain. We made a rude camp in a patch of stunted hemlocks, and as I sat
before the fire having my tea, I chanced to look up on the hills before
me, and there was the bunch of five rams I had tried so hard to stalk
early in the afternoon. They were at no great distance, but it was
rapidly growing dark, and there was not time to get within range while
it would be light enough to shoot. So I sat and studied these sheep
through the glasses, determined to find them later, even if it took me a
month.
One of them had a most beautiful head, with long and massive horns well
over the full turn. Another had a head which would have been equally
good if the left horn had not been slightly broken at the tip. The third
also had an excellent head, and although not up to the other two, his
horns made the full turn. The remaining two rams were smaller. I watched
them until darkness came on, and all this while they fed slowly back
toward the mountains on which my friend had been hunting the week
before. I am convinced that this bunch of sheep had been driven out of
these hills by Blake, and had been turned back again by me.
It rained hard that night, and the next morning the clouds were so low
that it was impossible to go in search of the rams I had seen the
evening before. I, therefore, determined to push immediately to the
main 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 of
the lake.
This range of hills is surrounded by a mighty glacier, and at the foot
of the glacier is a moraine some ten miles long extending down to Kenai
Lake. On one side of this moraine you can walk by skirting the shore
and using care, but on the other side the quicksands are deep and
dangerous. We camped for the night in a place which my friend had used
as his base of supplies.
The next morning opened dull, and I felt the effects of my hard work and
did not greatly relish the idea of shouldering a fifty-pound pack. But
my time was now getting short. In two weeks the rutting season of the
moose would begin, and in the meantime I wanted four more fine specimens
of the white sheep. Any day we might expect a heavy fall of snow, for
the northern winter had already begun in the hills.
We soon found the tracks of Blake's party, which led up the moraine, and
carried us over quicksand and through glacial streams, icy cold.
Finally we came to where Blake had started up the mountain side, and
with all due regard to my friend, his trail was not an easy one. About
noon it began to rain, but we pushed upward, although soon soaked to the
skin, and came out above timber just at dark. We were all fagged out and
shaking with cold by the time we reached Blake's old camp.
The next morning broke dismally with the floodgates of the heavens open
and the rain coming down in torrents. I lay among my rugs and smoked one
pipe after another in order to keep down my appetite, for there was
little chance of making a fire to cook with. In fact, most of the day
was passed in this way, for all the wood had become thoroughly
water-soaked.
Late in the afternoon we succeeded in getting a fire started and had a
square meal. While we were crouched around the blaze the natives saw
sheep on the hills just above us, but it was raining so hard that it was
impossible to tell if they were rams. In fact, when sheeps' coats are
saturated with water they do not show up plainly when seen at any
distance, and might easily be mistaken for wet rocks.
The next day opened just as dismally, with the storm raging harder than
ever, but by eleven o'clock it began to let up, and we soon had our
things drying in the wind, for the clouds looked threatening, and we
feared 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 by
our camp was swollen into a rushing torrent, and we were obliged to go
almost to its source--a miniature glacier--before we could wade it.
Climbing to the crest of the mountains on which we had seen the sheep
the evening before, and following just under the sky line, we soon saw a
large and two small rams feeding on a sheltered ledge before us.
We much feared that they would get: our scent, but by circling well
around we succeeded in making a fair approach. I should have had an
excellent shot at the big ram had not one of the smaller ones given the
alarm. The gale was coming in such gusts that it was difficult to take a
steady aim, and at my first shot the bullet was carried to one side. I
fired again just as the sheep were passing from view, and succeeded in
breaking the leg of the big ram. Hunter and I now raced after him, but
the hillside was so broken that it was impossible to locate him, so my
man went to the valley below where he could get a good view and signal
to me.
It is always well in hill shooting to have an understood code of signals
between your man and yourself. The one which I used and found most
satisfactory provided that if my man walked to the right or left it
meant that the game was in either of these directions; if he walked away
from the mountain, it was lower down; if he approached the mountain, it
was 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 suddenly
came close upon the three, which had taken shelter from the gale behind
a large rock. Very frequently sheep will remain behind with a wounded
companion; 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 out
of range. But he was too badly wounded to go far over such grounds, and
I soon stalked up near, when I fired, breaking another leg, and then ran
up and finished him off. This ram carried a very pretty head 13-1/2
inches around the butts and 36-1/4 inches along the curve, but
unfortunately the left horn was slightly broken at the tip. It was
undoubtedly an old sheep, as his teeth, worn to the gums, and the ten
rings around his horns indicated.
When a ram's constitution has been undermined by the rutting season, the
horns cease to grow, nor do they begin again until the spring of the
year with its green vegetation brings nourishing food, and this is the
cause of the rings, which, therefore, indicate the number of winters old
a sheep is. This was my head man's theory, and is, I believe, a correct
one, for in the smaller heads which I have examined these rings
coincided with the age of the sheep as told by the teeth. Up to five
years, 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, a
three-year-old six, and a four-year-old or over eight teeth, or a full
set.
[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 other
sheep could be seen, we returned to camp by five o'clock. This was the
easiest day's shooting that I had had.
As we sat by the camp-fire that evening, four sheep were seen on the
hills above us, two of which I recognized as the small rams that had
been with the one I had just killed. We felt quite certain that these
were the bunch of five rams which we had seen when we were packing out
from our first hill camp. In fact, this was the only good band of rams
which I saw during the entire hunt. If these were the same sheep, the
two newcomers carried good heads, for, as previously stated, I had
studied this lot carefully through the glasses.
The next day, the thirteenth and Friday, opened dismally enough, but by
the time we had finished breakfast the mountains Were clear of clouds
and there was no wind to mar one's shooting. Such conditions were to be
taken advantage of, and Hunter and I were soon working up the ridge well
to leeward of the place where we had seen the sheep the night
before. Reaching the crest we scanned the grounds on all sides, and also
the rugged mountain tops about us.
The white coats of these sheep against the dark background of black
moss-covered rocks render them easily seen, but we now failed to sight
any even on the distant hills. Therefore we pushed ahead, going
stealthily up wind and keeping a careful watch on all sides. We crossed
over the ridge and worked our way just below the sky-line on the other
side of the mountain from our camp, never supposing that the sheep would
work back, for they had seen our camp-fire on the night before. We
traveled nearly to the end of the ridge, and were just about to cross
and 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 out
of sight.
While we had been working around one side of the summit the sheep had
been working back on the other side, and we had passed them with the
mountain ridge between. Fortunately they were all feeding with their
heads away or they must have seen us as we came out on the sky-line. My
man had the glasses and assured me that there were two excellent
heads. We now felt quite certain that these were the sheep we knew so
well.
We cautiously dropped out of sight and worked back, keeping the mountain
ridge between us. We were well above and had a favorable wind and the
entire day before us. It was the first and only time upon these hills
that the conditions had all been favorable for a fair stalk and good
shooting. Hunter did his part well, and brought me up to within one
hundred and twenty-five yards of the rams, which were almost directly
below us. They had stopped feeding and were lying down. Only one of the
smaller 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 to
the left, while the one remaining large ram and the second smaller one
went to the right. The latter were instantly hidden from view, for the
mountain side was very rough and broken and covered with large slide
rock. I raced in the same direction, knowing well that they would work
up hill. But hurrying over such ground is rather dangerous work.
Soon the two sheep came into view, offering a pretty quartering shot at
a little under a hundred yards. The old ram fell to my first bullet, and
I allowed the smaller one to go and grow up, and I hope offer good sport
to some persevering sportsman five years hence.
While Hunter climbed down and skinned out the heads I turned in pursuit
of the one which I had first fired at, for we both thought he had been
hit, having seen hair fly. I soon located him in the distance, but he
showed no signs of a bad wound, and as his head was small I was truly
glad that my shot had only grazed him. Both the rams which I killed
carried excellent heads with unbroken points, and we were safely back in
camp with the trophies shortly after two o'clock that afternoon--an easy
and a pleasant day.
The larger ram measured 13-1/4 inches around the base of the horns, and
37-7/8 inches along the outer curves. These were the longest horns of
the _Ovis dalli_ that I killed. The other ram measured 13 inches
around 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 the
hills, and there, near the crest of the ridge, was one of the small rams
from the bunch we had stalked that morning. He offered a very easy
chance had I wanted his head. It is worthy of note that these sheep
seem to have no fear of the smell of blood or dead comrades, and on
several occasions I have observed them near the carcass of some ram
which I had shot.
The next day opened perceptibly cooler, and the angry clouds overhead
told us to beware of a coming storm. As I now had seven heads, five of
which were very handsome trophies, I concluded to take Hunter's advice
and leave the high hills.
Our sheep shooting for the year was now practically over. Had the
weather been fine it would have been an ideal trip; but with the
exception of the third and thirteenth of September every day passed upon
the mountains was not only disagreeable, but with conditions so
unfavorable that it had been almost impossible to stalk our game
properly, for when I had been once wet to the skin the cold wind from
the glaciers soon chilled me to such a degree that I was unable to
remain quietly in one place and allow the game to get in a favorable
position for a stalk. I had been obliged to keep constantly going, and
this frequently meant shooting at long range. With the exception of the
rams shot on the eleventh and thirteenth of September, I had killed
nothing under three hundred yards. Therefore much of the sport in
making a careful and proper stalk had been lost.
My success with the white sheep had come only with the hardest kind of
work, but I now had five really fine heads--which I later increased to
six, my limit. I was quite satisfied with the measurements of these
horns along the curve, but had hoped to have shot at least one which
would tape over 14 inches around the butts, although this would be
extreme, for the horns of the white sheep do not grow so large as the
common Rocky Mountain variety. They are also much lighter in color. I
believe that large and perfect heads will be most difficult to find a
few years hence in this section, and the sportsman who has ambitions in
this direction would do well not to delay his trip too long; for this
range of hills is not over large, and unless these sheep have some
protection, it is only a question of time before they will be almost
entirely 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 the
moose range.
The rutting season of the moose begins on the Kenai Peninsula about the
15th of September, and lasts, roughly speaking, for one month. At this
time the bulls come from the remote places where they have passed the
summer and seek the cows, and the country which they now roam is
generally the high tablelands which lie at the base of the mountains
just below the timber line. We had timed our hunt to be in the moose
range during this season, for then the bulls are bold, and not so
difficult to find.
Bull moose differ from the rest of the deer family in not getting
together a big band of cows, but pair off. The female remains with the
bull only a short time, and then slips away, and then the bulls roam the
forest in search of other partners. They are now very fearless, and if
they come upon a female accompanied by another bull, fight gallantly to
get possession of her. Their sense of smell is rather dulled at this
time, for I have often seen their tracks following the trail which my
native was constantly traveling.
The calves are born in May or June, and are weaned during the rutting
season, for the bulls are very apt to drive them away from their
mothers.
The antlers are hardly out of the velvet before the rutting season
begins. They are then a light yellowish color, but are later stained
dark brown by constant rubbing and scraping against bushes and tree
trunks.
The moose of Alaska undoubtedly carry heads far grander than those found
in the East. In fact, the antlers of the Kenai Peninsula moose equal, if
they do not exceed in size, those from any other part of the world, and
it was my ambition to kill by still-hunting a good example of one of
these.
Calling moose I have never looked upon as true sport, unless the hunter
does his own calling, and I am glad to see that many feel in the same
way about this mode of hunting.
After we had made our base of supplies on the shore of the lake, we
shouldered our packs and climbed up through the forest for several
hours, until we came to the shore of a small lake, where we made
camp. The scrubby woods were very thick, and extended up the sides of
the mountains for some distance; then came a broad belt of thick alders,
and beyond that the high open tablelands, which rolled back to the base
of the sheep hills. In all directions deep game trails, traveled by the
moose for many years, wound through the forest.
In the afternoon my man and I took our first hunt. Fresh tracks were
seen in the much-used runways, which were often worn two feet deep by
constant travel. Late in the afternoon I saw five sheep feeding on some
low hills at no great distance, and as there were no lambs among the
lot, we supposed that this was a band of rams, but we had not time to
reach them before dark.
We were just about to return to camp when Hunter saw glistening in the
sun among the thick alders, just above the timber line, the massive
antlers of a moose. There was no time to be lost if we meant to come up
with 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 Hunter
and my native that no one was to carry a rifle but myself, for I was
determined not to allow my natives to molest the game. Indians do not
like to wander through the forests without a gun, and my native had
lately borrowed a rifle from one of Blake's men, but I insisted upon his
leaving it at our base of supplies.
That afternoon, as Hunter and I started from camp, we sent the native
back to the lake to bring us more provisions. He told us that he had no
sooner reached the shore than he had heard a splash in the water near
him, and looking up had seen a large moose swimming across to a neck of
land at no great distance. He described this moose as at times being
completely submerged by the weight of his antlers, and said that he had
apparently great difficulty in swimming.
This temptation was too great for Lawroshka, and, as his rifle was at
hand, he pushed off in the boat, and coming up close to the moose, shot
him 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 not
wish to bring out any trophies which I had not shot myself. I was sorry
to learn that some men who have hunted in this region did not hesitate
to class among their trophies the heads which had been shot by their
men.
I went to sleep that night with the expectation of a fair day and good
sport on the morrow, but woke next morning to find it raining
hard. Since reaching our hunting grounds on the 22d of August, we had
had only five pleasant days, and three of these were used up in marching
from one camp to another. It was now raining so hard that I determined
not to hunt, and turned in among my blankets with my pipe, but after a
time this failed to satisfy me, and by 11 o'clock Hunter and I decided
that even a thorough wetting was preferable to doing nothing.