American Big Game in Its Haunts - Various
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Now for the first time I had a good view of the bear, which proved to be
a very large one. As my men declared that this was one of the largest
they had ever seen, I think we may safely place it as a fair example of
the Kadiak species. Unfortunately I had no scales with me, and could
not, therefore, take its weight; but the three of us were unable to
budge either end from the ground, and after removing the pelt the
carcass appeared to be as large as a fair sized ox. We had much
difficulty in skinning him, for he fell on his face, and it took us some
half hour even to turn him over; we were only able to do this by using
his 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 sat
chatting 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 were
following, 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 my
natives to return some months later and collect all the bones, for I
decided 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 of
satisfaction as I lay lazily back in the baidarka with the large skin at
my feet, only occasionally taking the paddle, for it had been a hard
trip, and I felt unlike exerting myself. We camped that night in a
hunting barabara which belonged to Nikolai, and was most picturesquely
situated on a small island.
My natives were extremely fond of bear meat, and they sat long into the
night gorging themselves. Each one would dig into the kettle with his
fork, and bringing out a big chunk would crowd as much as possible into
his mouth, and holding it there with his teeth would cut off with his
hunting knife a liberal portion, which he would swallow after a munch or
two.
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 bears
which we had killed on the Alaska Peninsula was excellent and without
this strong gamy flavor.[5]
[Footnote 5: The true Kadiak bear is found only on the Kadiak Islands
and not on the mainland.]
The next morning we made an early start, for to save this large skin I
had decided to push on with all haste to the little settlement of
Afognak, where I had arranged to meet my friend some days later. It was
a beautiful morning, and once more we had a favoring breeze. Some forty
miles across Shelikoff Straits was the Alaskan shore. The rugged,
snow-clad mountains seemed to be softened when seen through the hazy
blue atmosphere. One white-capped peak boldly pierced a line of clouds
and stood forth against the pale blue of the sky beyond; while the great
Douglas Glacier, ever present, wound its way down, down to the very
sea. 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 that
evening were back at the little fishing hamlet of Malina Place. Here I
was asked to drink tea with a man whom my hunters told me had killed
many bears on these islands.
This man said that at times there were no bears on Shuyak, and that
again they were there in great numbers, showing that they freely swim
from Afognak across the straits, which, at the narrowest point, are some
three miles wide.
[Illustration: BAIDARKA.]
While I was having tea in one of the barabaras I heard much shooting
outside, which announced the return of a sea otter party that had been
hunting for two months at Cape Douglas. It was a beautiful sight, this
fleet of twenty odd baidarkas, the paddles all rising and falling in
perfect time, and changing sides without a break. There is nothing more
graceful than one of these canoes when handled by expert Aleuts. These
natives had already come forty miles that day, and were now going to
stop only long enough for tea, and then push on to the little settlement
of Afognak Place, some twenty-five miles away, where most of them
lived. In one of the canoes I saw a small chap of thirteen years. He was
the chief's son, and already an expert in hunting and in handling the
baidarka. So is the Aleut hunter trained.
As it had been a very warm day I feared that the skin might
spoil. Therefore I concluded to continue to Afognak Place without
camping 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 on
either side of us. At midnight we again stopped for tea, and while we
sat by the fire the host of baidarkas of the sea otter party silently
glided by like shadows. We joined them, for my men had much to tell of
their four months with the white hunter, and many questions were asked
on 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 the
native hunters of this island, and they seemed to regard me as quite one
of them.
[Footnote 6: Russian and Aleut for "How do you do?"]
When all the straggling baidarkas had caught up and taken their places
in the line, the chief gave the word _Kedar_ ("Come on"), and we
all paddled forward, and just as the sun was rising above the hills we
reached our journey's end.
Two days later my friend joined me. He also had been successful, and had
killed a good sized male bear in Little Uganuk Bay on Kadiak Island.
Our bear hunt was now over, and we had been fortunate in accomplishing
all we had hoped for.
IV.
THE WHITE SHEEP OF KENAI PENINSULA
The last of July Blake and I sailed from the Kadiak Islands, and one
week later were landed at the little settlement of Kenai, on the Kenai
Peninsula.
The mountains of this region are unquestionably the finest big-game
shooting grounds in North America at the present day. Here one may
expect to find four different kinds of bears--black, two species of
brown, and the Alaska grizzly--the largest of moose, and the Kenai form
of the white sheep (_Ovis dalli_).
These hills lie back from the coast some thirty miles, and may be
reached by one of several rivers. It takes a couple of days to ascend
some of these streams, but we determined to select a country more
difficult to enter, thinking it would be less often visited by the local
native hunters. We therefore chose the mountains lying adjacent to the
Kenai 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 to
lead us to our shooting grounds. One cannot oppose the great tides of
Cook Inlet, and all plans are based on them. Therefore we did not leave
until the flood, when we were carried up the stream some twelve
miles--the tide limit--where we camped.
The next morning we were up at daylight, for at this point began the
hard river work. There was much brush on the banks, but our natives
proved themselves most expert in passing the line, for from now on until
we reached the lake our boats had to be towed against a swift current.
That day we made about eight miles, and camped shortly after five
o'clock. It rained hard during the night, and the next morning broke
cloudy. The river for the first two days wound through the lowlands, but
from this point on the banks seemed higher and the current perceptibly
swifter, while breaking water showed the presence of rocks under the
surface. The country back from the stream began to be more rolling, and
as the river occasionally made some bold bend the Kenai Mountains could
be seen in the distance.
Again it rained hard during the night and continued well on into the
next morning, so we made a late start, breaking camp at eight o'clock.
Spruce, alders, willows, and birch were the trees growing along the
banks, and we now passed through the country where the moose range
during the summer months. Already the days had become perceptibly
shorter, and there was also a feeling of fall in the air, for summer is
not long in this latitude.
At this point in the river we encountered bad water, and all hands were
constantly wet, while the natives were in the glacial stream up to their
waists for hours at a time. Therefore we made but little progress. That
night there was a heavy frost, and the next morning dawned bright and
clear. The day was a repetition of the day before, and the natives were
again obliged to wade with the tow-line most of the way. But they were a
good-natured lot, and seemed to take their wetting as a matter of
course. About ten o'clock the next morning we reached the Kenai Rapids,
where the stream narrows and the water is extremely bad, for the current
is very swift and the channel full of rocks. We navigated this place
safely and came out into the smooth water beyond. Here we had tea and a
good rest, for we felt that the hardest part of this tiresome journey
was over. Above the rapids there are a few short stretches of less
troubled water where the oars can be used; but these are few and far
between, and one must count upon warping the boat from tide water to
within two miles of the lake--an estimated distance of between
thirty-five and forty miles.
We had hardly got started the following day before it began to rain
heavily. We were soon wet to the skin and thoroughly chilled, but we
kept on until late in the afternoon, when we camped in a small Indian
cabin some three miles from the lake.
It stormed hard during the night with such heavy wind that we much
feared that we should be unable to cross the lake the next day. In the
morning, however, the wind had gone down, and we made an early
start. Just before reaching the mouth of the river we sighted game for
the first time. A cow moose with her calf were seen on the bank. They
stood idly watching our boats for a short time, and then slowly ambled
off into the brush.
Occasionally as the river had made some big bend we had been able to
sight the mountains which were to be our shooting grounds. Day by day
they had grown nearer and nearer, and finally, after one week of this
toilsome 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 favorably
in grandeur with the finest of Alaskan scenery. Half way up their slopes
was a well defined timber line, and then came the stunted vegetation
which the autumn frosts had softened into velvet browns in deep contrast
to the occasional berry patches now tinged a brilliant crimson; and
beyond, the great bleak, open tablelands of thick moss sloped gently
upward to the mountain bases; and above all, the lofty peaks of dull
gray rock towered in graceful curves until lost in the mist. Great banks
of snow lay in many of the highest passes, and over all the landscape
the sun shone faintly through leaden and sombre storm clouds.
Such was my first near view of the Kenai Mountains, and, as I learned to
know them better, they seemed to grow more awe-inspiring and beautiful.
When we reached Kenai Lake, Blake and I decided that it would probably
be the wisest plan to divide things up into two separate shooting
outfits. We could then push over the hills in different directions
until we came upon the sheep. Each would then make his own shooting
camp, and our natives would carry out the heads we might shoot to our
united base of supplies on the lake, and pack back needed provisions.
At noon of August 22 Blake and outfit started for his shooting grounds
at the eastern end of the sheep range, and shortly after my outfit was
under way. My head man and the natives carried packs of some sixty
pounds, while I carried about fifty pounds besides my rifle, glasses,
and cartridges; even my dog Stereke had some thirty pounds of canned
goods in a pack saddle.
Our first march led up the mountain over a fairly steep trail, a gale
accompanied by rain meeting us as we came out from the timber on to the
high mossy plateau. The wind swept down from the hills in great gusts,
and our small tent tugged and pulled at its stakes until I greatly
feared it would not stand the strain. It had moderated somewhat by the
next morning, and we made an early start.
Our line of march, well above timber, led along the base of the summits
for some miles, then swinging to the left we laboriously climbed over
one range and dropped into the valley beyond. A strong wind made it hard
going, and sometimes turned us completely around as it struck slanting
upon the packs which we carried. During the day sheep were seen in the
distance, but we did not stop, for we were anxious to reach before dark
a place where Hunter--my head man--had usually made his hill camp. It
must 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, but
the small Killy River, on which we were now located, was much swollen by
the heavy rains, and could not be crossed. We devoted the forenoon to
bridging this stream, but during the afternoon a small bunch of sheep
was sighted low down on the mountains, and I started with Hunter to see
if it contained any good rams. We left camp about noon and reached the
sheep in a little over an hour. There was one ram which I shot for
meat, but unfortunately his head was smaller than I thought, and
valueless as a trophy.
As sheep hunting in these hills is at best hard work, I decided to move
the camp as high up as we could find wood and water. The next morning as
we started on our first real hunt, we took the native with us, and after
selecting a spot at the edge of the timber line, left him to bring up
our camp to this place while my man and I continued over the mountains
in 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 by
several deep gulches, down which tumbled rapid glacial streams from many
perpetual snow banks. Above this high plateau rose sharp and barren
mountains which seemed but glacial heaps of jagged boulders and slide
rock all covered with coarse black moss or lichen, which is the only
food of sheep during the winter months.
It is generally supposed that when the heavy snows of winter set in the
sheep seek a lower level, but my guide insisted that they work higher
and higher up the mountain sides, where the winds have swept the snow
away, and they are able to get this coarse but nourishing food.
The sky-line of these hills made a series of unbroken curves telling of
the mighty power of the glaciers which once held this entire country in
their crushing grasp.
We passed over the great plateau, which even at this latitude was
sprinkled generously with beautiful small wild flowers. Crossing gulch
after gulch we continually worked higher and higher by a gradual and
easy ascent.
We had been gone from camp but little over an hour, when, on approaching
a 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 carefully
peered over to the other side. We had unknowingly worked into the midst
of a big band of ewes, lambs, and small rams. I counted twenty-seven on
my left and twenty-five on my right, but among them all there was not a
head worth shooting.
This was the first great band of white sheep I had seen, and I watched
them at this close range with much interest. Soon a tell-tale eddy in
the breeze gave them our scent, and they slowly moved away, not
hurriedly nor in great alarm, but reminding me much of tame sheep, or
deer in a park. Man was rather an unfamiliar animal to them, and his
scent 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 over
one hundred ewes and lambs.
We worked over one range and around another with the great valley of the
river lying at our feet, while beyond were chain upon chain of bleak and
rugged mountains. Finally we came to a vast gulch supposed to be the
home of the large rams. My men had hunted in this section two years
before, and had never failed to find good heads here, but we now saw
nothing 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 what
at first appeared but a perpendicular precipice of jagged rock falling
hundreds of feet. The clouds now lifted a bit and we could see below a
vast circular valley with green grass and rapid glacial streams. On all
sides it was hemmed in and guarded by mighty mountains with giant cliffs
and vast slides of broken rocks reaching from the bottom to the very
summits. Opposite was a great dull blue glacier from which the north
fork of the Killy River belched forth, while other smaller glaciers and
snow banks seemed kept in place only by granite barriers.
We seated ourselves on the brink of this great cliff and the glasses
were at once in use. Soon Hunter saw rams, but they were so far below
that even with my powerful binoculars it was impossible to tell more
than 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, and
finally found one where it was possible to descend some fifty yards to a
sort of shute. From where we were we could not see whether we should be
able to make a still further descent, and if we did go down that far it
would be an extremely difficult climb to get back, but we thought it
probable 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, and
after a bit of bad climbing found the slide rock at the lower end as we
had expected; but it took us a good two hours to get low enough to tell
with the glasses how big were the horns the sheep carried.
There were eight rams in all. A bunch of three small ones about half a
mile away, and just beyond them four with better heads, but still not
good enough to shoot, and apart from these, a short distance up the
mountain side, was a solitary ram which carried a really good head. The
bunch of three was unfortunately between us and the big sheep, and it
required careful stalking to get within distance of the one we
sought. We knew very well that if we suddenly alarmed the three, and
they rushed off, they, in turn, would alarm the four and also the big
ram. When we were still at some distance we showed ourselves to the
three, and they took the hint and wandered slowly up the mountain
side. The others, although they had not seen us, became suspicious, so
we remained crouched behind some rocks until they once more began to
feed. The big ram now came down from his solitary position and passed
from view behind a mass of boulders near the remaining sheep.
The head of the ram which I had shot the day before was much smaller
than I had supposed at the time. In order to avoid this in future I had
asked 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 the
bunch of four, and I must confess that I was also deceived.
Although the four had become suspicious from seeing the three go slowly
up the cliff, still they had not made us out, and the wind remained
favorable. Lying close only long enough for them to get over their
uneasiness, we cautiously stalked up to within some two hundred
yards. Again we used the glasses most carefully, but could not see the
big ram. Suddenly the sheep became alarmed and started up the
mountain. I expected each second to see the large ram come out from
behind the boulders, and therefore withheld from shooting. But when he
did not appear I turned my attention to the four which had paused and
were looking down upon us from a rocky ridge nearly four hundred yards
above. As they stood in bold relief against the black crags, I saw that
one carried horns much larger than the others, and that it was the big
ram. My only chance was to take this long shot. We had been crossing a
snow bank at the time, and I settled myself, dug my heels well in, and
with elbows resting on my knees took a steady aim. I was fortunate in
judging the correct distance, for at the report of the rifle the big ram
dropped, gave a few spasmodic kicks, and the next minute came rolling
down the mountain side, tumbling over and over, and bringing with him a
great shower of broken rocks. I feared that his head and horns would be
ruined, but fortunately found them not only uninjured, but a most
beautiful trophy. The horns taped a good 34 inches along the curve and
13-1/2 inches around the butts.
That night the weather changed, and thenceforth the mountains were
constantly enveloped in mist, while it rained almost daily. These were
most difficult conditions under which to hunt, for sheep have wonderful
vision and can see a hunter through the mist long before they can be
seen.
I was anxious to bring out as trophies only the finest heads, and daily
refused chances which some might have gladly taken. If we could not
plainly see with the naked eye horns at 300 to 400 yards, we always let
the sheep pass, knowing that the head was small, but if at any time we
could make out that a sheep carried a full turn to his horns, we knew
that the head was well matured. If we saw a sheep facing us we could
always tell when the horns made a full turn, for then the tips curved
outward.
A week after killing the big ram we again visited the great basin, but
found nothing, and cautiously moved a little higher to a sheltered
position. From here we carefully scanned the bottom of this large gulch,
and soon spied a bunch of ewes and lambs, and shortly afterward three
medium sized rams. When we first saw them one had become suspicious and
was looking intently in our direction, so we crouched low against the
rocks, keeping perfectly still until they once more began to feed. When
they 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 had
expected to get a fair shot at two hundred yards or under, but when I
peered over nothing was in sight. I concluded they had not gone up the
mountain side, for their white coats against the black rocks would have
rendered them easily seen. I, therefore, started to walk boldly in the
direction in which we had seen them go, thinking they had probably taken
shelter from the gale behind some rocks.
I had only gone some paces when we located them standing on a snow patch
which had made them indistinguishable. I sat down and tried to shoot
from my knees, but the wind was coming in such fierce gusts that I could
not hold my rifle steady, so I ran as hard as I could in their
direction, looking hastily about for some rock which would offer
shelter.
The sheep made up the mountain side for some three hundred yards, when
they paused to look back. I had by this time found a sheltered position
behind a large boulder, and soon had one of the rams wounded, but,
although I fired several shots I seemed unable to knock him off his
feet. Fearing that I might lose him after all, I aimed for the second
ram, 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 and
fifty yards I found that both the sheep were badly wounded, and were
unable to go further, so I finished them off. What was my surprise to
find that the larger ram had seven bullets in him, while the smaller one
had three.
These sheep would almost never flinch to the shot, and it was difficult
to tell when you had hit, unless in an immediately vital spot.
The weather continued unfavorable for hill shooting until the third of
September, but that day opened bright and clear, and fearing lest the
good conditions might not last, we made an early start. Crossing the
high plateau we followed the valley of the Killy River, keeping well up
and skirting the bases of the mountain summits. As we trudged along, the
shrill cries of alarm of the whistling marmots were heard, and the
little fellows could be seen in all directions scampering for their
holes. Ptarmigan were also frequently met with, but not in such great
numbers as one would have supposed in a region where they had never been
hunted. On several occasions we found these birds on the highest summits
where there was nothing but rocks covered with black moss. It would have
been interesting to have shot one of them and learned upon what they
were then feeding, but it was just in the locality where we hoped to
find rams, and this was out of the question. That morning we traveled
some distance before we saw sheep, but having once reached their feeding
ground I had the satisfaction of watching more wild game than on any
previous day.