 Section 6 of THE EXTERMINATION OF THE AMERICAN BISON. CHAPTER IV. CHARACTER OF THE SPECIES. CONTINUED. X. THE WOOD OR MOUNTAIN BUFFALO. Having myself never seen a specimen of the so-called mountain buffalo or wood buffalo, which some writers accord the rank of a distinct variety, I can only quote the descriptions of others. While most rocky mountain hunters consider the bison of the mountains quite distinct from that of the plains, it must be remarked that no two authorities quite agree in regard to the distinguishing characters of the variety they recognize. Colonel Dodge states that his body is lighter, whilst his legs are shorter but much thicker and stronger than the plains animal, thus enabling him to perform feats of climbing and tumbling almost incredible in such a huge and unwieldy beast. The belief in the existence of a distinct mountain variety is quite common amongst hunters and frontiersmen all along the eastern slope of the rocky mountains, as far north as the Peace River. In this connection, the following from Professor Henry Yule Hind is of general interest. The existence of two kinds of buffalo is firmly believed by many hunters at Red River. They are stated to be the prairie buffalo and the buffalo of the woods. Many old hunters, with whom I have conversed on this subject, aver that the so-called wood buffalo is a distinct species, and although they are not able to offer scientific proofs, yet the difference in size, color, hair, and horns are enumerated as the evidence upon which they base their statement. Men from their youth, familiar with these animals in the Great Plains, and the varieties which are frequently met with in large herds, still cling to this opinion. The buffalo of the plains are not always of the dark and rich bright brown which forms their characteristic color. They are sometimes seen from white to almost black, and a gray buffalo is not at all uncommon. Buffalo emasculated by wolves are often found on the prairies, where they grow to an immense size. The skin of the buffalo ox is recognized by the shortness of the wool and by its large dimensions. The skin of the so-called wood buffalo is much larger than that of the common animal. The hair is very short, main or hair about the neck short and soft, and altogether destitute of curl, which is the common feature in the hair or wool of the prairie animal. Two skins of the so-called wood buffalo, which I saw at Selkirk Settlement, bore a very close resemblance to the skin of the Lithuanian bison, judging from the specimens of that species which I have since had an opportunity of seeing in the British Museum. The wood buffalo is stated to be very scarce, and only found north of the Saskatchewan and on the flanks of the Rocky Mountains. It never ventures into the open plains. The prairie buffalo, on the contrary, generally avoids the woods in summer and keeps to the open country, but in winter they are frequently found in the woods of the little Suris Saskatchewan, the Touchwood Hills, and the Aspen Groves on the Capell. There is no doubt that formerly the prairie buffalo ranged through open woods almost as much as he now does through the prairies. Dr. Harrison S. Young, an officer of the Hudson's Bay Fur Company, stationed at Fort Edmonton, writes me as follows in a letter dated October 22, 1887. In our district of Athabasca, along the Salt River, there are still a few wood buffalo killed every year, but they are fast diminishing in numbers and are also becoming very shy. In Professor John McCoon's Manitoba and the Great Northwest, page 342, there occurs the following reference to the wood buffalo. In the winter of 1870 the last buffalo were killed north of Peace River, but in 1875 about one thousand head were still in existence between the Athabasca and Peace Rivers north of Little Slave Lake. These are called wood buffalo by the hunters, but differ only in size from those of the plain. In the absence of facts based on personal observations, I may be permitted to advance an opinion in regard to the wood buffalo. There is some reason for the belief that certain changes of form may have taken place in the buffaloes that have taken up a permanent residence in rugged and precipitous mountain regions. Indeed, it is hardly possible to understand how such a radical change in the habitat of an animal could fail through successive generations to affect certain changes in the animal itself. It seems to me that the changes which would take place in a band of plain's buffaloes transferred to a permanent mountain habitat can be forecast with a marked degree of certainty. The changes that take place under such conditions in cattle, swine and goats are well known and similar causes would certainly produce similar results in the buffalo. The scantier feed of the mountains and the great waste of vital energy called for in procuring it would hardly produce a larger buffalo than the plain's fed animal, who acquires an abundance of daily food of the best quality with but little effort. We should expect to see the mountain buffalo smaller in body than the plain's animal, with better leg development and particularly with stronger hind quarters. The pelvis of the plain's buffalo is surprisingly small and weak for so large an animal. Beyond question, constant mountain climbing is bound to develop a maximum of useful muscle and bone and a minimum of useless fat. If the loss of maine sustained by the African lions who live in bushy localities may be taken as an index, we should expect the bison of the mountains, especially the wood buffalo, to lose a great deal of his shaggy frontlet and maine on the bushes and trees which surrounded him. Therefore we would naturally expect to find the hare on those parts shorter and in far less perfect condition than on the buffalo of the treeless prairies. By reason of the more shaded condition of his home, and the decided mitigation of the sun's fierceness, we should also expect to see his entire pellage of a darker tone. That he would acquire a degree of agility and strength, unknown in his relative of the plain, is reasonably certain. In the course of many centuries the change in his form might become well-defined, constant and conspicuous. But at present there is apparently not the slightest ground for considering that the mountain buffalo or wood buffalo is entitled to rank even as a variety of bison Americanus. Colonel Dodge has recorded some very interesting information in regard to the mountain or wood buffalo, which deserves to be quoted entire. In various portions of the rocky mountains, especially in the region of the parks, is found an animal which old mountaineers call the bison. This animal bears about the same relation to a plains buffalo as a sturdy mountain pony does to an American horse. His body is lighter, whilst his legs are shorter but much thicker and stronger than the plains animal, thus enabling him to perform feats of climbing and tumbling almost incredible in such a huge and apparently unwieldy beast. These animals are by no means plentiful, and are moreover excessively shy, inhabiting the deepest darkest defiles or the craggy almost precipitous sides of mountains inaccessible to any but the most practiced mountaineers. From the tops of the mountains which rim the parks, the rains of ages have cut deep gorges which plunge with brusque abruptness but nevertheless with great regularity, hundreds or even thousands of feet to the valley below. Down the bottom of each such gorge, a clear cold stream of purest water, fertilizing a narrow belt of a few feet of alluvial and giving birth and growth to a dense jungle of spruce, quaking asp, and other mountain trees. One side of the gorge is generally a thick forest of pine, while the other side is a meadow-like park covered with splendid grass. Such gorges are the favorite haunt of the mountain buffalo. Early in the morning he enjoys a bountiful breakfast of the rich nutritious grasses, quenches his thirst with the finest water, and retiring just within the line of the jungle where himself unseen he can scan the open, he crouches himself in the long grass and reposes in comfort and security until appetite calls him to his dinner late in the evening. Unlike their plains relative there is no stupid staring at an intruder. At the first symptom of danger they disappear like magic in the thicket and never stop until far removed from even the apprehension of pursuit. I have many times come upon their fresh tracks upon the beds from which they had first sprung an alarm, but I have never even seen one. I have wasted much time and a great deal of wind in vain endeavours to add one of these animals to my bag. My figure is no longer adapted to mountain climbing, and the possession of a bison's head of my own killing is one of my blighted hopes. Several of my friends have been more fortunate, but I know of no sportsman who has bagged more than one. Old mountaineers and trappers have given me wonderful accounts of the numbers of these animals in all the mountain region many years ago, and I have been informed by them that their present rarity is due to the great snowstorm of 1844-45, of which I have already spoken as destroying the plains buffalo in the Laramie country. One of my friends, a most ardent and pertenacious sportsman, determined on the possession of a bison's head, and, hiring a guide, plunged into the mountain wilds which separate the middle from South Park. After several days fresh tracks were discovered. Turning their horses loose on a little gorge park such as described, they started on foot on the trail. For all that day they toiled and scrambled with the utmost caution, now up, now down, through deep and narrow gorges and pine thickets, over bear and rocky crags, sleeping where night overtook them. Bit times next morning they pushed on the trail, and about eleven o'clock, when both were exhausted and well-nigh disheartened, their route was intercepted by a precipice. Looking over they described on a projecting ledge several hundred feet below, a herd of about twenty bison's lying down. The ledge was about three hundred feet at widest, by probably one thousand feet long. Its inner boundary was the wall of rock on the top of which they stood. Its outer appeared to be a sheer precipice of at least two hundred feet. This ledge was connected with the slope of the mountain by a narrow neck. The wind being right, the hunters succeeded in reaching this neck unobserved. My friend selected a magnificent head, that of a fine bull, young but full-grown, and both fired. At the report the bison's all ran to the far end of the ledge and plunged over. Terribly disappointed the hunters ran to the spot, and found that they had gone down a declivity, not actually a precipice, but so steep that the hunters could not follow them. At the foot lay a bison. A long, fatiguing detour brought them to the spot, and in the animal lying dead before him my friend recognized his bull, his first and last mountain buffalo. None but a true sportsman can appreciate his feelings. The remainder of the herd was never seen after the great plunge, down which it is doubtful if even a dog could have followed unharmed. In the issue of forest and stream of June fourteenth, 1888, Dr. R. W. Shufelt, in an article entitled The American Buffalo, relates a very interesting experience with buffaloes which were pronounced to be of the mountain variety, and his observations on the animals are well worth reproducing here. The animals, eight in number, were encountered on the northern slope of the Big Horn Mountains in the autumn of 1877. We came upon them during a fearful blizzard of heavy hail, during which our animals could scarcely retain their feet. In fact, the packer's mule absolutely lay down on the ground rather than risk being blown down the mountain side, and my own horse, totally unable to face such a violent blow, and the pelting hail, the stones being large as big marbles, positively stood stock still facing an old buffalo bull that was not more than twenty-five feet in front of me. Strange to say this fearful gust did not last more than ten minutes when it stopped as suddenly as it had commenced, and I deliberately killed my old buffalo at one shot just where he stood, and separating two other bulls from the rest charged them down a rugged ravine. They passed over this and into another one but with less precipitous sides and no trees in the way, and when I was on top of the intervening ridge I noticed that the largest bull had halted in the bottom. Checking my horse, an excellent buffalo hunter, I fired down at him without dismounting. The bull merely barked his shoulder, and to my infinite surprise he turned and charged me up the hill. Stepping to one side of my horse, with the charging and infuriated bull not ten feet to my front, I fired upon him, and the heavy bull took him square in the chest, bringing him to his knees with a gush of scarlet blood from his mouth and nostrils. Upon examining the specimen I found it to be an old bull, apparently smaller and very much blacker than the ones I had seen killed on the planes only a day or so before. Then I examined the first one I had shot, as well as others which were killed by the packer from the same bunch, and I came to the conclusion that they were typical representatives of the variety known as the Mountain Buffalo, a form much more active in movement of sleighter limbs, blacker, and far more dangerous to attack. My opinion in the premises remains unaltered today. In all this I may be mistaken, but it was also the opinion held by the old buffalo hunter who accompanied me, and who at once remarked when he saw them that they were Mountain Buffalo and not the planes variety. These specimens were not actually measured by me in either case, and their being considered smaller only rested upon my judging them by my eye, but they were of a softer pellage, black, lighter in limb, and when discovered were in the timber on the side of the Big Horn Mountains. The band of bison in Yellowstone Park must of necessity be of the so-called wood or mountain variety, and if by any chance one of its members ever dies of old age it is to be hoped its skin may be carefully preserved and sent to the National Museum to throw some further light on this question. 11. THE SHEDDING OF THE WINTER PELLAGE In personal appearance the Buffalo is subject to striking and even painful variations, and the estimate and observer forms of him is very apt to depend upon the time of the year at which the observation is made. Toward the end of the winter the whole coat has become faded and bleached by the action of the sun, wind, snow, and rain, until the freshness of its late autumn colors has totally disappeared. The bison takes on a seedy, weathered, and rusty look. But this is not a circumstance to what happens to him a little later. Promptly with the coming of the spring, if not even in the last week of February, the Buffalo begins the shedding of his winter coat. It is a long and difficult task, and with commendable energy he sets about it at the earliest possible moment. It lasts him more than half the year and is attended with many positive discomforts. The process of shedding is accomplished in two ways, by the new hair growing into and forcing off the old, and by the old hair falling off in great patches leaving the skin bare. On the heavily haired portions, the head, neck, forequarters, and hump, the old hair stops growing, dies, and the new hair immediately starts through the skin and forces it off. The new hair grows so rapidly, and at the same time so densely, that it forces itself into the old, becomes hopelessly entangled with it, and in time actually lifts the old hair clear of the skin. On the head the new hair is dark brown or black, but on the neck, forequarters, and hump it has at first, and indeed until it is two inches in length, a peculiar gray or drab color mixed with brown, totally different from its final and natural color. The new hair starts first on the head, but the actual shedding of the old hair is to be seen first along the lower parts of the neck and between the forelegs. The heavily haired parts are never bare, but on the contrary the amount of hair upon them is about the same all the year round. The old and the new hair cling together with provoking tenacity long after the old coat should fall, and on several of the bulls we killed in October there were patches of it still sticking tightly to the shoulders, from which it had to be forcibly plucked away. Under all such patches the new hair was of a different color from that around them. The other process of shedding takes place on the body and hindquarters, from which the old hair loosens and drops off, in great woolly flakes, a foot square more or less. The shedding takes place very unevenly, the old hair remaining much longer in some places than in others. During April, May, and June the body and hindquarters present a most ludicrous and even pitiful spectacle. The island-like patches of persistent old hair alternating with patches of bare brown skin are adorned by great ragged streamers of loose hair which flutter in the wind like signals of distress. Whoever sees a bison at this period is filled with a desire to assist nature by plucking off the flying streamers of old hair, but the bison never permits anything of the kind, however good one's intentions may be. All efforts to dislodge the old hair are resisted to the last extremity, and the buffalo generally acts as if the intention were to deprive him of his skin itself. By the end of June, if not before, the body and hindquarters are free from the old hair, and as bare as the height of a hippopotamus, the naked skin has a shiny brown appearance, and of course the external anatomy of the animal is very distinctly revealed. But for the long hair on the forequarters, neck and head, the bison would lose all his dignity of appearance with his hair. As it is, the handsome black head, which is black with new hair as early as the first of May, redeems the animal from utter homeliness. After the shedding of the body hair, the naked skin of the buffalo is burned by the sun and bitten by flies, until he is compelled to seek a pool of water, or even a bed of soft mud, in which to roll and make himself comfortable. He wallows not so much because he is so fond of either water or mud, but in self-defense. When he emerges from his wallow, plastered with mud from head to tail, his degradation is complete. He is then simply not fit to be seen even by his best friends. By the first of October, a complete and wonderful transformation has taken place. The buffalo stands forth clothed in a complete new suit of hair, fine, clean, sleek, and bright in color, not a speck of dirt nor a lock awry anywhere. To be sure it is as yet a trifle short on the body, where it is not over an inch in length and hardly but it is growing rapidly and getting ready for winter. From the twentieth of November to the twentieth of December his pelage is at its very finest. By the former date it has attained its full growth, its colors are at their brightest, and nothing has been lost either by the elements or by accidental causes. To him who sees an adult bull at this period or near it the grandeur of the animal is irresistibly felt. After seeing buffalos of all ages in the spring and summer months, the contrast afforded by those seen in October, November and December was most striking and impressive. In the later period, as different individuals were wounded and brought to bay at close quarters, their hair was so clean and well kept that more than once I was led to exclaim, he looks as if he had just been combed. It must be remarked, however, that the long hair of the head and forequarters is disposed in locks or tufts, and to comb it in reality would utterly destroy its natural and characteristic appearance. In as much as the pelage of the domesticated bison, the only representatives of the species which will be found alive ten years hence, will in all likelihood develop differently from that of the wild animal, it may sometime in the future be of interest to know the length by careful measurement of the hair found on carefully selected typical wild specimens. To this end the following measurements are given. It must be borne in mind that these specimens were not chosen because their pelage was particularly luxuriant, but rather because they are fine average specimens. The hair of the adult bull is by no means as long as I have seen on a bison, though perhaps not many have greatly surpassed it. It is with the lower animals as with man. The length of the hairy covering is an individual character only. I have in my possession a tuft of hair from the frontlet of a rather small bull bison which measures twenty-two and a half inches in length. The beard on the specimen from which this came was correspondingly long, and the entire pelage was of wonderful length and density. Note. A chart on length of hair of bison Americanus is included in the text but is not read here. End note. Albinism. Cases of albinism in the buffalo were of extremely rare occurrence. I have met many old buffalo hunters who had killed thousands and seen scores of thousands of buffaloes, yet never had seen a white one. From all accounts it appears that not over ten or eleven white buffaloes or white buffalo skins were ever seen by white men. Pied individuals were occasionally obtained but even they were rare. Albino buffaloes were always so highly prized that not a single one so far as I can learn ever had the good fortune to attain adult size, their appearance being so striking in contrast to the other members of the herd as to draw upon them an unusual number of enemies and cause their speedy destruction. At the New Orleans exposition, in 1884-85, the territory of Dakota exhibited amongst other western quadrupeds the mounted skin of a two-year-old buffalo which might fairly be called an albino, although not really white it was of a uniform dirty cream color and showed not a trace of the bison's normal color on any part of its body. Lieutenant Colonel S. C. Kellogg, U.S. Army, has on deposit in the National Museum a tanned skin which is said to have come from a buffalo. It is from an animal about one year old and the hair upon it which is short, very curly or wavy, and rather coarse, is pure white. In length and texture the hair does not in any one respect resemble the hair of a yearling buffalo, save in one particular, along the median line of the neck and hump there is a rather long, thin mane of hair which has the peculiar woolly appearance of genuine buffalo hair on those parts. On the shoulder portions of the skin the hair is as short as on the hindquarters. I am inclined to believe this rather remarkable specimen came from a wild half-breed calf, the result of a cross between a white domestic cow and a buffalo bull. At one time it was by no means uncommon for small bunches of domestic cattle to enter herds of buffalo and remain there permanently. I have been informed that the late General Marcy possessed a white buffalo skin. If it is still in existence and is really white it is to be hoped that so great a rarity may find a permanent abiding place in some museum where the remains of Bison Americanus are properly appreciated. Part 1 Chapter 5 The Habits of the Buffalo The history of the buffalo's daily life and habits should begin with the running season. This period occupied the months of August and September and was characterized by a degree of excitement and activity throughout the entire herd, quite foreign to the ease-loving and even slothful nature which was so noticeable a feature of the Bison's character at all other times. The mating season occurred when the herd was on its summer range. The spring calves were from two to four months old. Through continued feasting on the new crop of buffalo grass and bunch grass, the most nutritious in the world perhaps, every buffalo in the herd had grown round-sided, fat, and vigorous. The faded and weather-beaten suit of winter hair had by that time fallen off and given place to the new coat of dark gray and black, and accepting for the shortness of his hair, the buffalo was in prime condition. During the running season, as it was called by the Plainsmen, the whole nature of the herd was completely changed. Instead of being broken up into countless small groups and dispersed over a vast extent of territory, the herd came together in a dense and confused mass of many thousand individuals, so closely congregated as to actually blacken the face of the landscape. As if by a general and irresistible impulse, every straggler would be drawn to the common center, and for miles on every side of the great herd the country would be found entirely deserted. At this time the herd itself became a seething mass of activity and excitement. As usual under such conditions, the bulls were half the time chasing the cows, and fighting each other during the other half. These actual combats, which were always of short duration and over in a few seconds after the actual collision took place, were preceded by the usual threatening demonstrations, in which the bull lowers his head until his nose almost touches the ground, roars like a foghorn until the earth seems to fairly tremble with the vibration, glares madly upon his adversary with half white eyeballs, and with his forefeet pause up the dry earth and throws it upward in a great cloud of dust high above his back. At such times the mingled roaring it cannot truthfully be described as lowing or bellowing of a number of huge bulls unite and form a great volume of sound like distant thunder which has often been heard at a distance from one to three miles. I have even been assured by old planesmen that under favorable atmospheric conditions such sounds have been heard five miles. Notwithstanding the extreme frequency of combats between the bulls during this season, their results were nearly always harmless, thanks to the thickness of the hair and hide on the head and shoulders and the strength of the neck. Under no conditions was there ever any such thing as the pairing off or mating of male and female buffaloes for any length of time. In the entire process of reproduction the bison's habits were similar to those of domestic cattle. For years the opinion was held by many, in some cases based on misinterpreted observations, that in the herd the identity of each family was partially preserved, and that each old bull maintained an individual harem and a group of progeny of his own. The observations of Colonel Dodge completely disprove this very interesting theory, for at best it was only a picturesque fancy ascribing to the bison a degree of intelligence which he never possessed. At the close of the breeding season the herd quickly settles down to its normal condition. The mass gradually resolves itself into numerous bands or herdlets are from twenty to a hundred individuals, so characteristic of bison on their feeding grounds, and these gradually scatter in search of the best grass until the herd covers many square miles of country. In his search for grass the buffalo displayed but little intelligence or power of original thought. Instead of closely following the divides between water courses where the soil was best and grass most abundant he would not hesitate to wander away from good feeding grounds into barren badlands covered with sagebrush where the grass was very thin and very poor. In such broken country as Montana Wyoming and southwestern Dakota the herds on reaching the best grazing grounds on the divides would graze their day after day until increasing thirst compelled them to seek for water. Then, actuated by a common impulse, the search for a water-hole was begun in a business-like way. The leader of a herd or bunch which post was usually filled by an old cow would start off down the nearest draw or stream-heading and all the rest would fall into line and follow her. From the moment this start was made there was no more feeding save as a mouthful of grass could be snatched now and then without turning aside. In single file in a line sometimes half a mile long and containing between one and two hundred buffaloes the procession slowly marched down the coolly close alongside the gully as soon as the water course began to cut a pathway for itself. When the gully curved to right or left the leader would cross its bed and keep straight on until the narrow ditch completed its wayward curve and came back to the middle of the coolly. The trail of a herd in search of water is usually as good a piece of engineering as could be executed by the best railway surveyor and is governed by precisely the same principles. It always follows the level of the valley, swerves around the high points, and crosses the stream repeatedly in order to avoid climbing up from the level. The same trail is used again and again by different herds until the narrow path not over a foot in width is gradually cut straight down into the soil to a depth of several inches as if it had been done by a twelve inch grooving plane. By the time the trail has been worn down to a depth of six or seven inches without having its width increased in the least it is no longer a pleasant path to walk in being too much like a narrow ditch. Then the buffaloes abandon it and strike out a new one alongside which is used until it is also worn down and abandoned. Today the old buffalo trails are conspicuous among the very few classes of objects which remain as a reminder of a vanished race. The herds of cattle now follow them in single file just as the buffaloes did a few years ago as they search for water in the same way. In some parts of the west in certain situations old buffalo trails exist which the wild herds wore down to a depth of two feet or more. Mile after mile marched the herd straight downstream bound for the upper water hole. As the hot summer drew on the pools would dry up one by one those nearest the source being the first to disappear. Toward the latter part of the summer the journey for water was often a long one. Hole after hole would be passed without finding a drop of water. At last a hole of mud would be found. Below that a hole with a little muddy water and a mile farther on the leader would arrive at a shallow pool under the edge of a cut bank. A white snow-like deposit of alkali on the sand encircling its margin and encrusting the blades of grass and rushes that grew up from the bottom. The damp earth around the pool was cut up by a thousand hoof prints and the water was warm, strongly impregnated with alkali and yellow with animal impurities. But it was water. That nauseous mixture was quickly surrounded by a throng of thirsty, heated and eager buffaloes of all ages to which the oldest and strongest asserted claims of priority. There was much crowding and some fighting, but eventually all were satisfied. After such a long journey to water a herd would usually remain by it for some hours, lying down, resting, and drinking at intervals until completely satisfied. Having drunk its fill the herd would never march directly back to the choice feeding grounds it had just left. But instead would leisurely stroll off at a right angle from the course it came, cropping for a while the rich bunch grasses of the bottomlands, and then wander across the hills in an almost aimless search for fresh fields and pastures new. When buffaloes remained long in a certain locality it was a common thing for them to visit the same watering place a number of times, at intervals of greater or less duration according to circumstances. When undisturbed on his chosen range the bison used to be fond of lying down for an hour or two in the middle of the day, particularly when fine weather and good grass combined to encourage him in luxurious habits. I once discovered with the field glass a small herd of buffaloes lying down at midday on the slope of a high ridge. And having ridden hard for several hours we seized the opportunity to unsaddle and give our horses an hour's rest before making the attack. While we were so doing the herd got up, shifted its position to the opposite side of the ridge and again laid down, every buffalo with his nose pointing to windward. Old hunters declare that in the days of their abundance, when feeding on their ranges in fancy security, the younger animals were as playful as well-fed domestic haves. It was a common thing to see them cavort and frisk around with about as much grace as young elephants, prancing and running to and fro with tails held high in the air like scorpions. Buffaloes are very fond of rolling in dry dirt or even in mud, and this habit is quite strong in captive animals. That only is it indulged in during the shedding season, but all through the fall and winter. The two live buffaloes in the National Museum are so much given to rolling, even in rainy weather, that it is necessary to card them every few days to keep them presentable. Bulls are much more given to rolling than cows, especially after they have reached maturity. They stretch out at full length, rub their heads violently to and fro on the ground, in which the horn serves as a chief point of contact and slides over the ground like a sled runner. After thoroughly scratching one side on Mother Earth, they roll over and treat the other in like manner. Notwithstanding his sharp and lofty hump, a buffalo bull can roll completely over with as much ease as any horse. The vast amount of rolling and side-scratching on the earth, indulged in by bull buffaloes, is shown in the worn condition of the horns of every old specimen. Often a thickness of half an inch is gone from the upper half of each horn on its outside curve, at which point the horn is worn quite flat. This is well illustrated in the horn shown in the accompanying plate, Figure 6. Mr. Katelyn affords some very interesting and valuable information in regard to the bison's propensity for wallowing in mud, and also the origin of the fairy circles which have caused so much speculation amongst travelers. Quote, In the heat of summer, these huge animals, which no doubt suffer very much with the great profusion of their long and shaggy hair, or fur, often graze on the low grounds of the prairies, where there is a little stagnant water lying amongst the grass, and the ground underneath being saturated with it is soft, into which the enormous bull, lower down upon one knee, will plunge his horns, and at last his head driving up the earth, and soon making an excavation in the ground into which the water filters from amongst the grass, forming for him in a few moments a cool and comfortable bath into which he plunges like a hog in his mire. In this delectable laver he throws himself flat upon his side, enforcing himself violently around, with his horns and his huge hump on his shoulders, presented to the sides. He plows up the ground by his rotary motion, sinking himself deeper and deeper in the ground, continually enlarging his pool, in which he at length becomes nearly immersed. And the water and mud about him mixed into a complete mortar, which changes his color and drips in streams from every part of him, as he rises up upon his feet, a hideous monster of mud and ugliness, too frightful and too eccentric to be described. It is generally the leader of the herd that takes upon him to make this excavation. And if not, but another one opens the ground, the leader who is conqueror, marches forward, and driving the other from it plunges himself into it. And having cooled his sides and changed his color to a walking mass of mud and mortar, he stands in the pool until inclination induces him to step out, and give place to the next in command, who stands ready, and another and another, who advance forward in their turns to enjoy the luxury of the wallow, until the whole band, sometimes a hundred or more, will pass through it in turn. Each one throwing his body around in a similar manner, and each one adding a little to the dimensions of the pool while he carries away in his hair an equal share of the clay, which dries to a gray or whitish color and gradually falls off. By this operation, which is done perhaps in the space of half an hour, a circular excavation of fifteen or twenty feet in diameter, and two feet in depth is completed, and left for the water to run into, which soon fills it to the level of the ground. To these sinks the waters lying on the surface of the prairies are continually draining, and in them lodging their vegetable deposits, which after a lapse of years fill them up to the surface with a rich soil which throws up an unusual growth of grass and herbage, forming conspicuous circles, which arrest the eye of the traveller, and are calculated to excite his surprise for ages to come. During the latter part of the last century, when the bison inhabited Kentucky and Pennsylvania, the salt springs of those states were resorted to by thousands of these animals, who drank of the saline waters and licked the impregnated earth. Mr. Thomas Ash affords us a most interesting account, from the testimony of an eye witness, of the behavior of a bison at a salt spring. The description refers to a locality in western Pennsylvania where, quote, an old man, one of the first settlers of this country, built his log-house on the immediate borders of a salt spring. He informed me that for the first several seasons the buffaloes paid him their visits with the utmost regularity. They traveled in single files, always following each other at equal distances, forming droves on their arrival of about three hundred each. The first and second years so unacquainted were these poor brutes with the use of this man's house, or with his nature, did in a few hours they rubbed the house completely down, taking delight in turning the logs off with their horns, while he had some difficulty to escape from being trampled under their feet, or crushed to death in his own ruins. At that period he supposed there could not have been less than two thousand in the neighborhood of the spring. They sought for no manner of food, but only bathed and drank three or four times a day, and rolled in the earth, or reposed with their flanks distended in the adjacent shades. And on the fifth and sixth days separated into distinct droves, bathed, drank, and departed in single files, according to the exact order of their arrival. They all rolled successively in the same hole, and each thus carried away a coat of mud to preserve the moisture on their skin, in which, when hardened and baked in the sun, would resist the stings of millions of insects that otherwise would persecute these peaceful travelers to madness or even death." End of Section 7 8 of the Extermination of the American Bison. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The Extermination of the American Bison by William T. Hornaday. Part 1 Chapter 5 The Habits of the Buffalo Continued. It was a fixed habit with the great buffalo herds to move southward from two hundred to four hundred miles at the approach of winter. Sometimes this movement was accomplished quietly and without any excitement, but at other times it was done with a rush, in which considerable distances would be gone over on the double quick. The advance of a herd was often very much like that of a big army, in a straggling line, from four to ten animals abreast. Sometimes the herd moved forward in a dense mass, and in consequence often came to grief in quicksands, alkali bogs, muddy crossings, and untreturous ice. In such places thousands of buffalos lost their lives, through those in the lead being forced into danger by pressure of the mass coming behind. In this manner in the summer of 1867 over two thousand buffaloes, out of a herd of about four thousand lost their lives in the quicksands of the Platte River near Plum Creek while attempting to cross. One winter a herd of nearly a hundred buffaloes attempted to cross a lake called Laquipar in Minnesota upon the ice which gave way and drowned the entire herd. During the days of the buffalo it was a common thing for voyagers on the Missouri River to see buffaloes hopelessly mired in the quicksands or mud along the shore, either dead or dying, and to find their dead bodies floating down the river or lodged on the upper ends of the islands and sandbars. Such accidents as these, it may be repeated, were due to the great number of animals and the momentum of the moving mass. The forced marches of the great herds were like the flight of a routed army in which helpless individuals were thrust into mortal peril by the irresistible force of the mass coming behind, which rushes blindly on after their leaders. In this way it was possible to decoy a herd toward a precipice and cause it to plunge over and mass, the leaders being thrust over by their followers and all the rest following of their own free will, like the sheep who cheerfully leaped one after another, through a hole on the side of a high bridge because their bellwether did so. But it is not to be understood that the movement of a great herd, because it was made on a run, necessarily partook of the nature of a stampede in which a herd sweeps forward in a body. The most graphic account that I ever obtained of facts bearing on this point was furnished by Mr. James McNanny, drawn from his experience on the northern buffalo range in 1882. His party reached the range, on Beaver Creek, about one hundred miles south of Glendive, about the middle of November, and found buffaloes already there. In fact, they had begun to arrive from the north as early as the middle of October. About the first of December an immense herd arrived from the north. It reached the vicinity one night about ten o'clock in a mass that seemed to spread everywhere. As the hunters sat in their tents, loading cartridges and cleaning their rifles, a low rumble was heard, which gradually increased to a thundering noise, and someone exclaimed, There! That's a big herd of buffalo coming in! All ran out immediately, and hallowed in discharged rifles to keep the buffaloes from running over their tents. Fortunately, the horses were picketed some distance away in a grassy coolly, which the buffaloes did not enter. The herd came at a jog trot and moved quite rapidly. Quote, In the morning, the whole country was black with buffalo, unquote. It was estimated that ten thousand head were in sight. One immense detachment went down onto a flat and laid down. There it remained quietly enjoying a long rest for about ten days. It gradually broke up into small bands, which strolled off in various directions looking for food, in which the hunters quietly attacked. A still more striking event occurred about Christmastime at the same place. For a few days the neighborhood of McNanny's camp had been entirely deserted by buffaloes, not even one remaining. But one morning about daybreak a great herd which was traveling south began to pass their camp. A long line of moving forms was seen advancing rapidly from the northwest, coming in the direction of the hunter's camp. It disappeared in the Creek Valley for a few moments, and presently the leaders came in sight again at the top of a rise, a few hundred yards away, and came down the intervening slope at full speed within fifty yards of the two tents. After them came a living stream of followers all going at a gallop, described by the observer as, quote, a long lope, unquote, from four to ten buffaloes abreast. Sometimes there would be a break in the column of a minute's duration, then more buffaloes would appear at the brow of the hill, and the column went rushing by as before. The calves ran with their mothers, and the young stock got over the ground with much less exertion than the older animals. For about four hours or until past eleven o'clock did this column of buffaloes gallop past the camp over a course no wider than a village street. Three miles away toward the south the long dark line of bobbing humps and hindquarters wound to the right between two hills and disappeared. True to their instincts the hunters promptly brought out their rifles and began to fire at the buffaloes as they ran. A furious fusillade was kept up from the very doors of the tents, and from first to last over fifty buffaloes were killed. Some fell headlong the instant they were hit, but the greater number ran on until their mortal wounds compelled them to halt. Draw off a little way to one side and finally fall in their death struggles. Mr. McNanny stated that the hunters estimated the number of buffaloes on that portion of the range that winter, 1881 through 82, at one hundred thousand. It is probable, and in fact reasonably certain, that such forced march migrations as the above were due to snow covered pastures and a scarcity of food on the more northern ranges. Having learned that a journey south will bring him to regions of less snow and more grass, it is but natural that so lusty a traveller should migrate. The herds or bands which started south in the fall months travelled more leisurely, with frequent halts to graze on rich pastures. The advance was on a very different plan, taking place in straggling lines and small groups dispersed over quite a scope of country. Unless closely pursued the buffalo never chose to make a journey of several miles through hilly country on a continuous run. Even when fleeing from the attack of a hunter I have often had occasion to notice that, if the hunter was a mile behind, the buffalo would always walk when going uphill, but as soon as the crest was gained he would begin to run and go down the slope either at a gallop or a swift trot. In former times when the buffalo's world was wide, when retreating from an attack he always ran against the wind to avoid running upon a new danger, which showed that he depended more upon his sense of smell than his eyesight. During the last years of his existence, however, this habit almost totally disappeared, and the harried survivors learned to run for the regions which offered the greatest safety. But even today if a Texas hunter should go into the staked plains and describe in the distance a body of animals running against the wind he would, without a moment's hesitation, pronounce them buffaloes, and the chances are that he would be right. In the winter the buffalo used to face the storms instead of turning tail and drifting before them helplessly as domestic cattle do. But at the same time when beset by a blizzard he would wisely seek shelter from it in some narrow and deep valley or system of ravines. There the herd would lie down and wait patiently for the storm to cease. After a heavy full of snow the place to find the buffalo was in the flats and creek bottoms where the tall rank bunch grasses showed their tops above the snow and afforded the best and almost the only food obtainable. When the snowfall was unusually heavy and lay for a long time on the ground the buffalo was forced to fast for days together and sometimes even weeks. If a warm day came and thawed the upper surface of the snow sufficiently for succeeding cold to freeze it into a crust the outlook for the bison began to be serious. A man can travel over a crust through which the hooves of a ponderous bison cut like chisels and leave him floundering belly deep. It was at such times that the Indians hunted him on snowshoes and drove their spears into his vitals as he walled helplessly in the drifts. Then the wolves grew fat upon the victims which they also slaughtered almost without effort. Although buffaloes did not actually perish from hunger and cold during the severest winters save in a few very exceptional cases they often came out in very poor condition. The old bulls always suffered more severely than the rest and at the end of winter were frequently in miserable plight. Unlike most other terrestrial quadrupeds of America so long as he could roam at will the buffalo had settled migratory habits. Footnote on page 248 of his North American Indian's volume one Mr. Catlin declares pointedly that quote these animals are truly speaking gregarious but not migratory. They graze in immense and almost incredible numbers at times and roam about an over vast tracts of country from east to west and from west to east as often as from north to south which has often been supposed they naturally and habitually did to accommodate themselves to the temperature of the climate in the different latitudes. Unquote. Had Mr. Catlin resided continuously in any one locality on the great buffalo range he would have found that the buffalo had decided migratory habits. The abundance of proof on this point renders it unnecessary to enter fully into the details of the subject. End of footnote. While the elk and black-tailed deer change their altitude twice a year in conformity with the approach and disappearance of winter the buffalo makes a radical change of latitude. This was most noticeable in the great western pasture region where the herds were most numerous and their movements most easily observed. At the approach of winter the whole great system of herds which range from the peace river to the Indian territory moves south a few hundred miles and wintered under more favorable circumstances than each band would have experienced at its farthest north. Thus it happened that nearly the whole of the great range south of Saskatchewan was occupied by buffaloes even in winter. The movement north began with the return of mild weather in the early spring. Undoubtedly this northward migration was to escape the heat of their southern winter range rather than to find better pasture for as a grazing country for cattle all year round Texas is hardly surpassed except where it is overstocked. It was with the buffaloes a matter of choice rather than necessity which sent them on their annual pilgrimage northward. Colonel R. I. Dodge who has made many valuable observations on the migratory habits of the southern buffaloes has recorded the following quote early in spring as soon as the dry and apparently desert prairie has begun to change its coat of dingy brown to one of palest green the horizon would begin to be dotted with buffalo single or in groups of two or three forerunners of the coming herd. Thicker and thicker and in larger groups they come until by the time the grass is well up the whole vast landscape appears a mass of buffalo some individuals feeding others standing others lying down but the herd moving slowly moving constantly to the northward. Some years as in 1871 the buffalo appeared to move northward in one immense column often times from 20 to 50 miles in width and have unknown depth from front to rear. Other years the northward journey was made in several parallel columns moving at the same rate and with their numerous flankers covering a width of 100 or more miles. The line of march of this great spring migration was not always the same though it was confined within certain limits. I am informed by old frontiersmen that it has not within 25 years crossed the Arkansas River east of Great Bend nor west of Big Sand Creek. The most favored routes cross the Arkansas at the mouth of Walnut Creek, Pawnee Fork, Mulberry Creek, DeSimeron Crossing, and Big Sand Creek. As the great herd proceeds northward it is constantly depleted numbers wandering off to the right and left until finally it is scattered in small herds far and wide over the vast feeding grounds where they pass the summer. When the food in one locality fails they go to another and towards fall when the grass of the high prairie becomes parched by the heat and drought they gradually work their way back to the south concentrating on the rich pastures of Texas and the Indian territory. Whence the same instinct acting on all they are ready to start together on the northward march as soon as spring starts the grass." So long as the bison held undisputed possession of the Great Plains his migratory habits were as above. Regular, general, and on a scale that was truly grand. The herds that wintered in Texas, the Indian Territory, and New Mexico probably spent their summers in Nebraska, southwestern Dakota, and Wyoming. The winter herds of northern Colorado, Wyoming, Nebraska, and southern Dakota went to northern Dakota and Montana, while the great Montana herds spent the summer on the Grand Coteau des Prairies, lying between the Saskatchewan and the Missouri. The two great annual expeditions of the Red River Half-Breads, which always took place in summer, went in two directions from Winnipeg and Pembina. One, the White Horse Plain Division going westward along the Quapel to the Saskatchewan country, and the other the Red River Division southwest into Dakota. In 1840 the site of the present city of Jamestown Dakota was the northeastern limit of the herds that summered in Dakota, and the country lying between that point and the Missouri was for years the favorite hunting ground of the Red River Division. The herds which wintered on the Montana ranges always went north in the early spring, usually in March, so that during the time the hunters were hauling in the hides taken on the winter hunt the ranges were entirely deserted. It is equally certain, however, that a few small bands remained in certain portions of Montana throughout the summer, but the main body crossed the international boundary and spent the summer on the plains of Saskatchewan, where they were hunted by the Half-Breads from the Red River settlements and the Indians of the plains. It is my belief that in this movement nearly all the buffaloes of Montana and Dakota participated, and that the herds which spent the summer in Dakota where they were annually hunted by the Red River Half-Breads came up from Kansas, Colorado, and Nebraska. While most of the cows were born on the summer ranges many were brought forth en route. It was the habit of the cows to retire to a secluded spot, if possible a ravine well screened from observation, bring forth their young, and nourish and defend them until they were strong enough to join the herd. Caves were born all the time from March to July, and sometimes even as late as August. On the summer ranges it was the habit of the cows to leave the bulls at calving time, and thus it often happened that small herds were often seen composed of bulls only. Usually the cow produced but one calf, but twins were not uncommon. Of course many calves were brought forth in the herd, but the favorite habit of the cow was as stated. As soon as the young calves were brought into the herd, which for prudential reasons occurred at the earliest possible moment, the bulls assumed the duty of protecting them from the wolves which at all times congregated in the vicinity of a herd, watching for an opportunity to seize a calf or a wounded buffalo which might be left behind. A calf always follows its mother until its successor is appointed and installed, unless separated from her by force of circumstances. They suck until they are nine months old or even older, and Mr. McNanny once saw a lusty calf suck its mother in January on the Montana range several hours after she had been killed for her skin. When a buffalo is wounded it leaves the herd immediately and goes off as far from the line of pursuit as it can get to escape the rabble of hunters who are sure to follow the main body. If any deep ravines are at hand the wounded animal limps away to the bottom of the deepest and most secluded one, and gradually works his way up to its very head, where he finds himself in a perfect cul-de-sac, barely wide enough to admit him. Here he is so completely hidden by the high walls and numerous bends that his pursuer must needs come within a few feet of his horns before his huge bulk is visible. I have more than once been astonished at the real impregnability of the retreats selected by Wounded Bison. In following up wounded bulls in ravine headings it always became too dangerous to make the last stage of the pursuit on horseback for fear of being caught in a passage so narrow as to ensure a fatal accident to man or horse in case of a sudden discovery of the quarry. I have seen Wounded Bison shelter in situations where a single bull could easily defend himself from a whole pack of wolves being completely walled in on both sides and the rear and leaving his foes no point of attack save his head and horns. Bison which were nursing serious wounds most often have gone many days at a time without either food or water and in this connection it may be mentioned that the recuperative power of a bison is really wonderful. Judging from the number of old leg wounds fully healed which I have found in freshly killed bisons one may be tempted to believe that a bison never died of a broken leg. One large bull which I skeletonized had had his humors shot squarely in two but it had united again more firmly than ever. Another large bull had the head of his left femur and the hip socket shattered completely to pieces by a big bull but he had entirely recovered from it and was as lusty a runner as any bull we chased. We found that while a broken leg was a misfortune to a buffalo it always took something more serious than that to stop him. End of Section 8. Section 9 of The Extermination of the American Bison by William T. Hornaday. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. The Extermination of the American Bison. Part 1 Chapter 6. The Food of the Bison. It is obviously impossible to enumerate all the grasses which serve the bison as food on his native heath without presenting a complete list of all the plants of that order found in a given region. But it is at least desirable to know which of the grasses of the great pasture region were his favourite and most common food. It was the nutritious character and marvellous abundance of his food supply which enabled the bison to exist in such absolutely countless numbers as characterised his occupancy of the great plains. The following list comprises the grasses which were the bison's principal food named in the order of their importance. This remarkable grass formed the piesta resistance of the bison's bill of fare in the days when he flourished and it now comes to us daily in the form of beef produced of primest quality and in greatest quantity on what was until recently the Great Buffalo Range. This grass is the most abundant and widely distributed species to be found in the great pasture region between the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains and the 19th degree of West Longitude. It is the principal grass of the plains from Texas to the British Possessions and even in the latter territory it is quite conspicuous. To anyone but a botanist its first acquaintance means a surprise. Its name and fame lead the unacquainted to expect a grass which is tall rank and full of fodder like the blue joint Andropogon Provincialus. The grammar grass is very short the leaves being usually not more than two or three inches in length and crowded together at the base of the stems. The flower stalk is about a foot in height but on grazed lands are Eatonoff and Butseldom Seen. The leaves are narrow and inclined to curl and lie close to the ground. Instead of developing a continuous growth this grass grows in small irregular patches usually about the size of a man's hand with narrow strips of perfectly bare ground between them. The grass curls closely upon the ground in a woolly carpet or cushion greatly resembling a layer of Florida moss. Even in springtime it never shows more color than a tint of palest green and the landscape which is dependent upon this grass for color is never more than a gray and melancholy waste. Unlike the soft, juicy and succulent grasses of the well-watered portions of the United States the tiny leaves of the grammar grass are hard, stiff and dry. I have often noticed that in grazing neither cattle nor horses are able to bite off the blades but instead each leaf is pulled out of the tuft seemingly by its root. Notwithstanding its dry and uninviting appearance this grass is highly nutritious and its fat producing qualities are unexcelled. The heat of summer dries it up effectually without destroying its nutritive elements and it becomes for the remainder of the year excellent hay cured on its own roots. It affords good grazing all the year round save in winter when it is covered with snow and even then if the snow is not too deep the buffaloes cattle and horses pour down through it to reach the grass or else repair to windswept ridges and hilltops where the snow has been blown off and left the grass partly exposed. Stock prefer it to all the other grasses of the plains. On bottomlands where moisture is abundant this grass develops much more luxuriously growing in a close mass and often to a height of a foot or more if not grazed down when it is cut for hay and sometimes yields one and a half tons to the acre. In Montana and the north it is generally known as Buffalo Grass a name to which it would seem to be fully entitled notwithstanding the fact that this name is also applied and quite generally to another species the next to be noticed. Buckloe Dactyloides Southern Buffalo Grass this species is next in value and extent of distribution to the grammar grass it also is found all over the great plains south of Nebraska and southern Wyoming but not further north although in many localities it occurs so sparsely as to be of little account. A single bunch of it very greatly resembles Butalua Oligostacia but its general growth is very different. It is very short its general mass seldom rising more than three inches above the ground it grows in extensive patches and spreads by means of stolons which sometimes are two feet in length with joints every three or four inches owing to its southern distribution this might well be named the Southern Buffalo Grass to distinguish it from the two other species of higher latitudes to which the name Buffalo has been fastened forever. Steeper Spartia Northern Buffalo Grass Wild Oat this grass is found in southern Manitoba westwardly across the plains to the Rocky Mountains and southward as far as Montana where it is common in many localities. On what was once the buffalo range of the British possessions this rank grass formed the bulk of the winter pastureage and in that region is quite as famous as our grammar grass. An allied species steeper Viridula bunch grass is widely diffused over our Rocky Mountain region extending to California and British America and furnishing a considerable part of the wild forage of the region. Steeper Spartia bears an ill name among stockmen on account of the fact that at the base of each seed is a very hard and sharp pointed callus which under certain circumstances so it is said lodges in the cheeks of domestic animals that feed upon this grass when it is dry and which cause much trouble but the buffalo like the wild horse and half wild range cattle evidently escaped this annoyance. This grass is one of the common species over a wide area of the northern plains and is always found on soil which is comparatively dry. In Dakota, Minnesota and northwest Iowa it forms a considerable portion of the upland prairie hay. Of the remaining grasses it is practically impossible to single out anyone as being specially entitled to fourth place in this list. There are several species which flourish in different localities and in many respects appear to be of about equal importance as food for stock. Of these the following are the most noteworthy Aristida perpuria, western beard grass, purple bunch grass of Montana. On the high ruling prairies of the Missouri Yellowstone Divide this grass is very abundant. It grows in little solitary bunches about six inches high scattered through the curly buffalo grass Butalua oligostacia. Under more favorable conditions it grows to a height of twelve to eighteen inches. It is one of the prettiest grasses of that region and in the fall and winter its purplish color makes it quite noticeable. The Montana Stockmen consider it one of the most valuable grasses of that region for stock of all kinds. Mr. C. M. Jacobs assured me that the buffalo used to be very fond of this grass and that wherever this grass grew in abundance there were the best hunting grounds for the bison. It appears that Aristida perpuria is not sufficiently abundant elsewhere in the northwest to make it an important food for stock but Dr. Visi declares that it is abundant on the plains of Kansas, New Mexico and Texas. Calaria cristata. Very generally distributed from Texas and New Mexico to the British possessions sandhills and arid soils, mountains up to eight thousand feet. Poa tenuifolia. Blue grass of the plains and mountains. A valuable bunch grass widely distributed throughout the great pasture region grows in all sorts of soils and situations common in the Yellowstone Park. Festuca scabrella. Bunch grass. One of the most valuable grasses of Montana and the northwest generally. Often called the great bunch grass. It furnishes excellent food for horses and cattle and is so tall it is cut in large quantities for hay. This is the prevailing species on the foothills and mountains generally up to an altitude of seven thousand feet where it is succeeded by Festuca ovina. Andropogon provincialus bluestem. An important species extending from eastern Kansas and Nebraska to the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and from northern Texas to the Saskatchewan. Common in Montana on alkali flats and bottomlands generally. This and the preceding species were of great value to the buffalo in winter when the shorter grasses were covered with snow. Andropogon scoparius. Bunch grass. Broom sedge. Wood grass. Similar to the preceding in distribution and value but not nearly so tall. None of the buffalo grasses are found in the mountains. In the mountain regions which have been visited by the buffalo and in the Yellowstone Park where today the only herd remaining in a state of nature is to be found though not by the man with a gun. The following are the grasses which form all but a small proportion of the ruminant food. Calaria cristata. Poa tinuifolia. Western bluegrass. Steepa viridula. Feather grass. Steepa comata. Agropyrum divergens. Agropyrum caninum. When pressed by hunger the buffalo used to browse on certain species of sagebrush, particularly atriplex canessons of the south west. But he was discriminating in the matter of diet and as far as can be ascertained he was never known to eat the famous and much-dreaded locoweed, astragalus mollissimus, which to ruminant animals is a veritable drug of madness. Domestic cattle and horses often eat this plant where it is abundant and become demented in consequence. William T. Hornaday. Part 1 Chapter 7 The Mental Capacity and Disposition 1. Reasoning from cause to effect. The buffalo of the past was an animal of a rather low order of intelligence, and his dullness of intellect was one of the important factors in his phenomenally swift extermination. He was provokingly slow in comprehending the existence and nature of the dangers that threatened his life, and, like the stupid brute that he was, would very often stand quietly and see two or three score or even a hundred of his relatives and companions shot down before his eyes with no feeling other than one of stupid wonder and curiosity. Neither the noise nor smoke of the still-hunter's rifle, the falling, struggling, nor the final death of his companions, conveyed to his mind the idea of a danger to be fled from, and so the herd stood still and allowed the still-hunter to slaughter its members at will. Like the Indian and many white men also, the buffalo seemed to feel that their number was so great that it could never be sensibly diminished. The presence of such a great multitude gave to each of its individuals a feeling of security and mutual support, that is very generally found in animals who congregate in great herds. The time was when a band of elk would stand stupidly and wait for its members to be shot down one after another, but it is believed that this was due more to panic than to lack of comprehension of danger. The fur seals who cover the hauling grounds of St. Paul and St. George Island's Alaska in countless thousands have even less sense of danger and less comprehension of the slaughter of thousands of their kind, which takes place daily, than had the bison. They allow themselves to be herded and driven off landwards from the hauling ground for half a mile to the killing-ground, and finally, with most cheerful indifference, permit the elutes to club their brains out. It is to be added that whenever and wherever seals and sea lions inhabit a given spot, with but few exceptions, it is an easy matter to approach individuals of the herd. The presence of an immense number of individuals plainly begets a feeling of security and mutual support. And let not the bison or the seal be blamed for this, for man himself exhibits the same foolish instinct, who has not met the woman of mature years and full intellectual vigor, who is mortally afraid to spend a night entirely alone in her own house, but is perfectly willing to do so and often does so without fear, when she can have the company of one small and helpless child, or what is still worse, three or four of them. But with the approach of extermination, and the utter breaking up of all the herds, a complete change has been wrought in the character of the bison. At last, but alas, entirely too late, the crack of the rifle and its accompanying puff of smoke conveyed to the slow mind of the bison a sense of deadly danger to himself. At last he recognized man, whether on foot or horseback, or peering at him from a coolly, as his mortal enemy. At last he learned to run. In 1886 we found the scattered remnant of the great northern herd, the wildest and most difficult animals to kill that we had ever hunted in any country. It had been only through the keenest exercise of all their powers of self-preservation that those buffaloes had survived until that late day, and we found them almost as swift as antelopes and far more wary. The instant a buffalo caught sight of a man, even though a mile distant, he was off at the top of his speed, and generally ran for some wild region several miles away. In our party was an experienced buffalo hunter, who in three years had slaughtered over three thousand head for their hides. He declared that if he could ever catch a bunch at rest he would get a stand, the same as he used to do, and kill several head before the rest would run. It so happened that the first time we found buffaloes we discovered a bunch of fourteen head lying in the sun at noon, on the level top of a low butte, all noses pointing up the wind. We stole up within range and fired. At the instant the first shot rang out, upsprang every buffalo as if he had been thrown upon his feet by steel springs, and in a second's time the whole bunch was dashing away from us with the speed of race horses. Our buffalo hunter declared that in chasing buffaloes we could count with certainty upon their always running against the wind, for this had always been their habit. Although this was once their habit, we soon found that those who now represent the survival of the fittest have learned better wisdom, and now run, one, away from their pursuer, and two, toward the best hiding place. Now they pay no attention whatever to the direction of the wind, and if a pursuer follows straight behind a buffalo may change his course three or four times in a ten-mile chase. An old bull once led one of our hunters around three quarters of a circle which had a diameter of five or six miles. The last buffaloes were mentally as capable of taking care of themselves as any animals I ever hunted. The power of original reasoning which they manifested, in scattering all over a given tract of rough country, like hostile Indians when hotly pursued by soldiers, in the Indian-like manner in which they hid from sight in deep hollows, and as we finally proved in grazing only in ravines and hollows, proved conclusively that but for the use of firearms those very buffaloes would have been actually safe from harm by man, and that they would have increased indefinitely. As they were then the Indians' arrows and spears could never have been brought to bear upon them save in rare instances, for they had thoroughly learned to dread man and fly from him for their lives. Could those buffaloes have been protected from rifles and revolvers, the resultant race would have displayed far more active mental powers, keener vision, and finer physique than the extinguished race possessed. In fleeing from an enemy the buffalo ran against the wind in order that his keen scent might save him from the disaster of running upon new enemies, which was an idea wholly his own and not copied by any other animal so far as known. But it must be admitted that the buffalo of the past was very often a most stupid reasoner. He would deliberately walk into a quicksand where hundreds of his companions were already engulfed and in their death struggle. He would quit feeding, run half a mile, and rush headlong into a moving train of cars that happened to come between him and the main herd on the other side of the track. He allowed himself to be impounded and slaughtered by a howling mob in a rudely constructed pen which a combined effort on the part of three or four old bulls would have utterly demolished at any point. A herd of a thousand buffaloes would allow an armed hunter to gallop into their midst, very often within arm's length, when any of the bulls nearest him might easily have bowled him over and had him trampled to death in a moment. The hunter who would ride in that manner into a herd of caped buffaloes of Africa, boobalus caffer, would be unhorsed and killed before he had gone half a furlong. 2. Curiosity The buffalo of the past possessed but little curiosity. He was too dull to entertain many unnecessary thoughts. Had he possessed more of this peculiar trait, which is the mark of an inquiring mind, he would much sooner have accomplished a comprehension of the dangers that proved his destruction. His stolid indifference to everything he did not understand cost him his existence, although in later years he displayed more interest in his environment. On one occasion in hunting I staked my success with an old bull I was pursuing, on the chance that when he reached the crest of a ridge his curiosity would prompt him to pause an instant to look at me. Up to that moment he had had only one quick glance at me before he started to run. As he climbed the slope ahead of me, in full view, I dismounted and made ready to fire the instant he should pause to look at me. As I expected he did come to a full stop on the crest of the ridge, and turned half a round to look at me. But for his curiosity I should have been obliged to fire at him under very serious disadvantages. 3. Fear. With the buffalo fear of man is now the ruling passion. Says Colonel Dodge, he is as timid about his flank and rear as a raw recruit. When travelling nothing in front stops him, but an unusual object in the rear will send him to a right about toward the main body of the herd at the top of his speed. 4. Courage. It was very seldom that the buffalo evinced any courage save that of despair, which even cowards possess. Unconscious of his strength his only thought was flight, and it was only when brought to bay that he was ready to fight. Now and then, however, in the chase the buffalo turned upon his pursuer and overthrew horse and rider. Sometimes the tables were completely turned and the hunter found his only safety in flight. During the buffalo slaughter the butchers sometimes had narrow escapes from buffaloes supposed to be dead or mortally wounded, and a story comes from the great northern range south of Glendive of a hunter who was killed by an old bull whose tongue he had actually cut out in the belief that he was dead. Sometimes buffalo cows display genuine courage in remaining with their calves in the presence of danger, although in most cases they left their offspring to their fate. During a hunt for live buffalo calves undertaken by Mr. C. J. Jones of Garden City, Kansas, in 1886, and very graphically described by a staff correspondent of the American Field in a series of articles in that journal under the title of The Last of the Buffalo, the following remarkable incident occurred. The last calf was caught by Carter, who roped it neatly as Mr. Jones cut it out of the herd and turned it toward him. This was a fine heifer calf and was apparently the idol of her mother's heart, for the latter came very near making a casualty the price of the capture. As soon as the calf was roped the old cow left the herd and charged on Carter viciously as he bent over his victim. Seeing the danger Mr. Jones rode in at just the nick of time and drove the cow off for a moment, but she returned again and again, and finally began charging him whenever he came near, so that, much as he regretted it, he had to shoot her with his revolver, which he did, killing her almost immediately. The mothers of the thirteen other calves that were caught by Mr. Jones's party allowed their offspring to be cut out, lassoed and tied, while they themselves devoted all their energies to leaving them as far behind as possible. V. AFFECTION While the Buffalo cows manifested a fair degree of affection for their young, the adult bulls of the herd often displayed a sense of responsibility for the safety of the calves that was admirable, to say the least. Those who have had opportunities for watching large herds tell us that whenever wolves approached and endeavored to reach a calf, the old bulls would immediately interpose and drive the enemy away. It was a well-defined habit for the bulls to form the outer circle of every small group or section of a great herd, with the calves in the center well guarded from the wolves which regarded them as their most choice prey. General Dodge records a remarkable incident in illustration of the manner in which the bull buffaloes protected the calves of the herd. The duty of protecting the calves devolved almost entirely on the bulls. I have seen evidences of this many times, but the most remarkable instance I have ever heard of was related to me by an army surgeon who was an eyewitness. He was one evening returning to camp after a day's hunt, when his attention was attracted by the curious action of a little knot of six or eight buffalo. Approaching sufficiently near to see clearly, he discovered that this little knot were all bulls standing in a close circle with their heads outwards, while in a concentric circle some twelve or fifteen paces distant sat licking their chaps in impatient expectancy at least a dozen large gray wolves, accepting man the most dangerous enemy of the buffalo. The doctor determined to watch the performance. After a few moments the knot broke up, and still keeping in a compact mass started on a trot for the main herd some half a mile off. To his very great astonishment the doctor now saw that the central and controlling figure of this mass was a poor little calf, so newly born as scarcely to be able to walk. After going fifty or a hundred paces the calf laid down, and the bulls disposed themselves in a circle as before, and the wolves, who had trotted along on each side of their retreating supper, sat down and licked their chaps again. And though the doctor did not see the finale, it being late and the camp distant, he had no doubt that the noble fathers did their whole duty by their offspring and carried it safely to the herd. VI. TEMPER. I have asked many old buffalo hunters for facts in regard to the temper and disposition of herd buffaloes, and they all agree that they are exceedingly quiet, peace-loving, and even indolent animals, at all times save during the rutting season. Because Colonel Dodge, the habits of the buffalo are almost identical with those of the domestic cattle. Owing either to a more pacific disposition, or to the greater number of bulls, there is very little fighting even at the season when it might be expected. I have been among them for days, have watched their conduct for hours at a time, and with the very best opportunities for observation, but have never seen a regular combat between bulls, they frequently strike each other with their horns, but this seems to be a mere expression of impatience at being crowded. In referring to the running season of the buffalo, Mr. Catlin says, it is no uncommon thing at this season, in these gatherings, to see several thousands in a mass eddying and wheeling about under a cloud of dust, which is raised by the bulls as they are pawing in the dirt, or engaged in desperate combats, as they constantly are, plunging and butting at each other in a most furious manner. On the whole, the disposition of the buffalo is anything but vicious. Both sexes yield with surprising readiness to the restraints of captivity, and in a remarkably short time become, if taken young, as fully domesticated as ordinary cattle. Buffalo calves are as easily tamed as domestic ones, and make very interesting pets. A prominent trait of character in the captive buffalo is a mulish obstinacy or headstrong perseverance under certain circumstances that is often very annoying. When a buffalo makes up his mind to go through a fence, he is very apt to go through, either peaceably or by force, as occasion requires. Fortunately, however, the captive animals usually accept a fence in the proper spirit and treat it with a fair degree of respect.