an exceptionally fine one. In actual size of frame, and in quantity and
quality of pelage, it is far superior to the average, even of wild
buffaloes when they were most numerous and at their best.[30] In one
respect, however, that of actual bulk, it is believed that this specimen
may have often been surpassed. When buffaloes were numerous, and not
required to do any great amount of running in order to exist, they were,
in the autumn months, very fat. Audubon says: "A large bison bull will
generally weigh nearly 2,000 pounds, and a fat cow about 1,200 pounds.
We weighed one of the bulls killed by our party, and found it to reach
1,727 pounds, although it had already lost a good deal of blood. This
was an old bull, and not fat. It had probably weighed more at some
previous period."[31] Our specimen when killed (by the writer, December
6, 1886) was in full vigor, superbly muscled, and well fed, but he
carried not a single pound of fat. For years the never-ceasing race for
life had utterly prevented the secretion of useless and cumbersome fat,
and his "subsistence" had gone toward the development of useful muscle.
Having no means by which to weigh him, we could only estimate his
weight, in which I called for the advice of my cowboys, all of whom were
more or less familiar with the weight of range cattle, and one I
regarded as an expert. At first the estimated weight of the animal was
fixed at 1,700 pounds, but with a constitutional fear of estimating over
the truth, I afterward reduced it to 1,600 pounds. This I am now well
convinced was an error, for I believe the first figure to have been
nearer the truth.
[Note 30: In testimony whereof the following extract from a letter
written by General Stewart Van Vliet, on March 10, 1897, to Professor
Baird, is of interest:
"MY DEAR PROFESSOR: On the receipt of your letter of the 6th instant I
saw General Sheridan, and yesterday we called on your taxidermist and
examined the buffalo bull he is setting up for the Museum. I don't think
I have ever seen a more splendid specimen in my life. General Sheridan
and I have seen millions of buffalo on the plains in former times. I
have killed hundreds, but I never killed a larger animal than the one in
the possession of your taxidermist."]
[Note 31: Quadrupeds of North America, vol. II, p. 44.]
In mounting the skin of this animal, we endeavored by every means in our
power, foremost of which were three different sets of measurements,
taken from the dead animal, one set to check another, to reproduce him
when mounted in exactly the same form he possessed in life--muscular,
but not fat.
The color of the body and hindquarters of a buffalo is very peculiar,
and almost baffles intelligent description. Audubon calls it "between a
dark umber and liver-shining brown." I once saw a competent artist
experiment with his oil-colors for a quarter of an hour before he
finally struck the combination which exactly matched the side of our
large bull. To my eyes, the color is a pale gray-brown or smoky gray.
The range of individual variation is considerable, some being uniformly
darker than the average type, and others lighter. While the under parts
of most adults are dark brown or blackish brown, others are actually
black. The hair on the body and hinder parts is fine, wavy on the
outside, and woolly underneath, and very dense. Add to this the
thickness of the skin itself, and the combination forms a covering that
is almost impervious to cold.
The entire fore quarter region, _e. g._, the shoulders, the hump, and
the upper part of the neck, is covered with a luxuriant growth of pale
yellow hair (Naples yellow + yellow ocher), which stands straight out in
a dense mass, disposed in handsome tufts. The hair is somewhat woolly in
its nature, and the ends are as even as if the whole mass had lately
been gone over with shears and carefully clipped. This hair is 4 inches
in length. As the living animal moved his head from side to side, the
hair parted in great vertical furrows, so deep that the skin itself
seemed almost in sight. As before remarked, to comb this hair would
utterly destroy its naturalness, and it should never be done under any
circumstances. Standing as it does between the darker hair of the body
on one side and the almost black mass of the head on the other, this
light area is rendered doubly striking and conspicuous by contrast. It
not only covers the shoulders, but extends back upon the thorax, where
it abruptly terminates on a line corresponding to the sixth rib.
From the shoulder-joint downward, the color shades gradually into a dark
brown until at the knee it becomes quite black. The huge fore-arm is
lost in a thick mass of long, coarse, and rather straight hair 10 inches
in length. This growth stops abruptly at the knee, but it hangs within 6
inches of the hoof. The front side of this mass is blackish brown, but
it rapidly shades backward and downward into jet-black.
The hair on the top of the head lies in a dense, matted mass, forming a
perfect crown of rich brown (burnt sienna) locks, 16 inches in length,
hanging over the eyes, almost enveloping both horns, and spreading back
in rich, dark masses upon the light-colored neck.
On the cheeks the hair is of the same blackish brown color, but
comparatively short, and lies in beautiful waves. On the bridge of the
nose the hair is about 6 inches in length and stands out in a thick,
uniform, very curly mass, which always looks as if it had just been
carefully combed.
Immediately around the nose and mouth the hair is very short, straight
and stiff, and lies close to the skin, which leaves the nostrils and
lips fully exposed. The front part of the chin is similarly clad, and
its form is perfectly flat, due to the habit of the animal in feeding
upon the short, crisp buffalo grass, in the course of which the chin is
pressed flat against the ground. The end of the muzzle is very massive,
measuring 2 feet 2 inches in circumference just back of the nostrils.
The hair of the chin-beard is coarse, perfectly straight, jet black, and
111/2 inches in length on our old bull.
Occasionally a bull is met with who is a genuine Esau amongst his kind.
I once saw a bull, of medium size but fully adult, whose hair was a
wonder to behold. I have now in my possession a small lock of hair which
I plucked from his forehead, and its length is 221/2 inches. His horns
were entirely concealed by the immense mass of long hair that nature had
piled upon his head, and his beard was as luxuriant as his frontlet.
[Illustration: BULL BUFFALO IN NATIONAL MUSEUM GROUP. Drawn by Ernest E.
Thompson.]
The nostril opening is large and wide. The color of the hairless
portions of the nose and mouth is shiny Vandyke brown and black, with a
strong tinge of bluish-purple, but this latter tint is not noticeable
save upon close examination, and the eyelid is the same. The iris is of
an irregular pear-shaped outline, 1-5/16 inches in its longest diameter,
very dark, reddish brown in color, with a black edging all around it.
Ordinarily no portion of the white eyeball is visible, but the broad
black band surrounding the iris, and a corner patch of white, is
frequently shown by the turning of the eye. The tongue is bluish purple,
as are the lips inside.
The hoofs and horns are, in reality, jet black throughout, but the horn
often has at the base a scaly, dead appearance on the outside, and as
the wrinkles around the base increase with age and scale up and gather
dirt, that part looks gray. The horns of bulls taken in their prime are
smooth, glossy black, and even look as if they had been half polished
with oil.
As the bull increases in age, the outer layers of the horn begin to
break off at the tip and pile up one upon another, until the horn has
become a thick, blunt stub, with only the tip of what was once a neat
and shapely point showing at the end. The bull is then known as a
"stub-horn," and his horns increase in roughness and unsightliness as he
grows older. From long rubbing on the earth, the outer curve of each
horn is gradually worn flat, which still further mars its symmetry.
The horns serve as a fair index of the age of a bison. After he is three
years old, the bison adds each year a ring around the base of his horns,
the same as domestic cattle. If we may judge by this, the horn begins to
break when the bison is about ten or eleven years old, and the stubbing
process gradually continues during the rest of his life. Judging by the
teeth, and also the oldest horns I have seen, I am of the opinion that
the natural life time of the bison is about twenty-five years; certainly
no less.
+--------------------------------------------------------+
| BISON AMERICANUS. |
| (Male, eleven years old. |
| Taken December 6, 1866. Montana.) |
| (_No. 15703, National Museum collection._) |
+--------------------------------------------------------+
| |Feet.|Inches.|
|Height at shoulders to the skin | 5 | 8 |
|Height at shoulders to top of hair | 6 | -- |
|Length, head and body to insertion of tail| 10 | 2 |
|Depth of chest | 3 | 10 |
|Depth of flank | 2 | 0 |
|Girth behind fore leg | 8 | 4 |
|From base of horns around end of nose | 3 | 6 |
|Length of tail vertebræ | 1 | 3 |
|Circumference of muzzle back of nostrils | 2 | 2 |
+--------------------------------------------------------+
8. _The Cow in the third year._--The young cow of course possesses the
same youthful appearance already referred to as characterizing the
"spike" bull. The hair on the shoulders has begun to take on the light
straw-color, and has by this time attained a length which causes it to
arrange itself in tufts, or locks. The body colors have grown darker,
and reached their permanent tone. Of course the hair on the head has by
no means attained its full length, and the head is not at all handsome.
The horns are quite small, but the curve is well defined, and they
distinctly mark the sex of the individual, even at the beginning of the
third year.
+------------------------------------------------------------+
| BISON AMERICANUS. |
|(Young cow, in third year. Taken October 14, 1886. Montana.)|
+------------------------------------------------------------+
| (_No. 15686, National Museum collection._) |
+------------------------------------------------------------+
| |Feet.| Inches. |
|Height at shoulders | 4 | 5 |
|Length, head and body to insertion of tail| 7 | 7 |
|Depth of chest | 2 | 4 |
|Depth of flank | 1 | 4 |
|Girth behind fore leg | 5 | 4 |
|From base of horns around end of nose | 2 | 81/2 |
|Length of tail vertebræ | 1 | .. |
+------------------------------------------------------------+
9. _The adult Cow._--The upper body color of the adult cow in the
National Museum group (see Plate) is a rich, though not intense, Vandyke
brown, shading imperceptibly down the sides into black, which spreads
over the entire under parts and inside of the thighs. The hair on the
lower joints of the leg is in turn lighter, being about the same shade
as that on the loins. The fore-arm is concealed in a mass of almost
black hair, which gradually shades lighter from the elbow upward and
along the whole region of the humerus. On the shoulder itself the hair
is pale yellow or straw-color (Naples yellow + yellow ocher), which
extends down in a point toward the elbow. From the back of the head a
conspicuous baud of curly, dark-brown hair extends back like a mane
along the neck and to the top of the hump, beyond which it soon fades
out.
The hair on the head is everywhere a rich burnt-sienna brown, except
around the corners of the mouth, where it shades into black.
The horns of the cow bison are slender, but solid for about two-thirds
of their length from the tip, ringed with age near their base, and quite
black. Very often they are imperfect in shape, and out of every five
pairs at least one is generally misshapen. Usually one horn is
"crumpled," _e. g._, dwarfed in length and unnaturally thickened at the
base, and very often one horn is found to be merely an unsightly,
misshapen stub.
[Illustration: From a photograph. Engraved by Frederick Juengling. BULL
BUFFALO. (REAR VIEW.) Reproduced from the _Cosmopolitan Magazine_, by
permission of the publishers.]
The udder of the cow bison is very small, as might be expected of an
animal which must do a great deal of hard traveling, but the milk is
said to be very rich. Some authorities declare that it requires the
milk of two domestic cows to satisfy one buffalo calf, but this, I
think, is an error. Our calf began in May to consume 6 quarts of
domestic milk daily, which by June 10 had increased to 8, and up to July
10, 9 quarts was the utmost it could drink. By that time it began to eat
grass, but the quantity of milk disposed of remained about the same.
+---------------------------------------------------------------+
| BISON AMERICANUS. |
|(Adult cow, eight years old. Taken November 18, 1886. Montana.)|
+---------------------------------------------------------------+
| (_No. 15767, National Museum collection._) |
+---------------------------------------------------------------+
| | Feet.| Inches. |
|Height at shoulders | 4 | 10 |
|Length, head and body to insertion of tail| 8 | 6 |
|Depth of chest | 3 | 7 |
|Depth of flank | 1 | 7 |
|Girth behind fore leg | 6 | 10 |
|From base of horns around end of nose | 3 | |
|Length of tail vertebræ | 1 | |
+---------------------------------------------------------------+
10. _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."[32]
[Note 32: Plains of the Great West, p. 144.]
The belief in the existence of a distinct mountain variety is quite
common amongst hunters and frontiersmen all along the eastern slope the
Rocky Mountains as far north as the Peace River. In this connection the
following from Professor Henry Youle Hind[33] is of general interest:
[Note 33: Red River, Assinniboine and Saskatchewan Expedition, II p.
104-105.]
"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, mane 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 Souris,
Saskatchewan, the Touchwood Hills, and the aspen groves on the
Qu'Appelle. There is no doubt that formerly the prairie buffalo ranged
through open woods almost as much as he now does through the prairies."
Mr. 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 Prof. John Macoun'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 diner 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 effect certain changes in
the animal itself. It seems to me that the changes which would take
place in a band of plains 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 plains-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
plains animal, with better leg development, and particularly with
stronger hind quarters. The pelvis of the plains 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 mane 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 mane on the bushes and
trees which surrounded him. Therefore, we would naturally expect to find
the hair on those parts shorter and in far less perfect condition than
on the bison 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 pelage 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.[34]
[Note 34: Plains of the Great West, p. 144-147.]
"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 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 in alarm,
but I have never even seen one.
"I have wasted much time and a great deal of wind in vain endeavors 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.[35]
[Note 35: Foot-note by William Blackmore: "The author is in error here,
as in a point of the Tarryall range of mountains, between Pike's Peak
and the South Park, in the autumn of 1871, two mountain buffaloes were
killed in one afternoon. The skin of the finer was presented to Dr.
Frank Buckland."]
"Old mountaineers and trappers have given me wonderful accounts of the
number 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 snow-storm 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 pertinacious 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 bare and rocky crags, sleeping where night overtook them.
Betimes next morning they pushed on the trail, and about 11 o'clock,
when both were exhausted and well-nigh disheartened, their route was
intercepted by a precipice. Looking over, they descried, on a projecting
ledge several hundred feet below, a herd of about 20 bisons lying down.
The ledge was about 300 feet at widest, by probably 1,000 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 200 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 bisons 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, a 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. Hone 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 14, 1888, Dr. R. W. Shufeldt,
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 as large as big marbles),
positively stood stock-still, facing an old buffalo bull that was not
more than 25 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 ball 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 10 feet to my front, I fired upon him,
and the heavy ball 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
plains 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 slighter limbs, blacker, and far more
dangerous to attack. My opinion in the premises remains unaltered
to-day. 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 plains
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 pelage, black, lighter in limb, and when
discovered were in the timber, on the side of the Big Horn Mountains."
The band of bison in the 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 pelage._--In personal appearance the
buffalo is subject to striking, and even painful, variations, and the
estimate an 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, fore quarters, 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,
fore quarters, and hump it has at first, and indeed until it is 2 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 fore legs. 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 hind quarters,
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 hind quarters 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 hind quarters are free from the old hair, and
as bare as the hide 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 fore quarters, 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; and 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 that; but it is
growing rapidly and getting ready for winter.
From the 20th of November to the 20th of December the 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 buffaloes 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 fore
quarters is disposed in locks or tufts, and to comb it in reality would
utterly destroy its natural and characteristic appearance.
Inasmuch 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 some time 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, although 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 221/2 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.
LENGTH OF THE HAIR OF BISON AMERICANUS.
[Measurements, in inches, of the pelage of the specimens composing the
group in the National Museum.]
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
| |Old |Old |Spike |Young |Yearling|Young |
| |bull, |cow, |bull, |cow, |calf, |calf, |
| |killed |killed |killed |killed |killed |four |
| |Dec. 6.|Nov. 18.|Oct. 14.|Oct. 14.|Oct. 31.|months|
|Length of: | | | | | |old. |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|hair on the shoulder| | | | | | |
|(over scapula) | 33/4 | 43/4 | 31/2 | 31/4 | 3 | 11/2 |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|hair on top of hump | 61/2 | 7 | 51/4 | 51/2 | 41/2 | 2 |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|hair on the middle | | | | | | |
|of the side | 2 | 11/2 | 21/2 | 11/2 | 21/4 | 11/4 |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|hair on the | | | | | | |
|hind quarter | 13/4 | 11/4 | 3/4 | 3/4 | 2 | 1 |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|hair on the | | | | | | |
|forehead | 16 | 81/2 | 61/2 | 5 | 31/2 | 1/2 |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|the chin beard | 111/2 | 91/2 | 63/4 | 5 | 5 | 0 |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|the breast tuft | 8 | 81/2 | 8 | 6 | 5 | 3 |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|tuft on fore leg | 101/2 | 8 | 8 | 41/2 | 3 | 11/2 |
+--------------------+-------+--------+--------+--------+--------+------+
|the tail tuft | 19 | 15 | 15 | 13 | 71/2 | 41/2 |
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------+
_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 with 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.
Lieut. Col. 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 hind
quarters. 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.
V. 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, excepting 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 fog-horn until
the earth seems to fairly tremble with the vibration, glares madly upon
his adversary with half-white eyeballs, and with his forefeet paws 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 can not 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 of from 1 to 3 miles. I have even been assured by
old plainsmen 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 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 the numerous
bands or herdlets of 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 "bad lands," covered with sage-brush, 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 there 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 coulée, 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 coulée. 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 12-inch
grooving-plane. By the time the trail has been worn down to a depth of 6
or 7 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 also is worn down and abandoned.
To day 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 2 feet or more.
Mile after mile marched the herd, straight down-stream, 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 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 incrusting the blades of grass and
rushed 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_. The 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 awhile
the rich bunch grasses of the bottom-lands, 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 fancied security, the younger animals were as playful as
well-fed domestic calves. 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 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. Not 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 the 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
the 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 horns shown in the
accompanying plate, fig. 6.
[Illustration: DEVELOPMENT OF THE HORNS OF THE AMERICAN BISON.
1. The Calf. 2. The Yearling. 3. Spike Bull, 2 years old.
4. Spike Bull, 3 years old. 5. Bull, 4 years old.
6. Bull, 11 years old. 7. Old "stub-horn" Bull, 20 years old.]
Mr. Catlin[36] affords some very interesting and valuable information in
regard to the bison's propensity for wollowing in mad, and also the
origin of the "fairy circles," which have caused so much speculation
amongst travelers:
[Note 36: North American Indians, vol. I, p. 249, 250.]
"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, lowered 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, and
forcing himself violently around, with his horns and his huge hump on
his shoulders presented to the sides, he ploughs 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,[37] 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.
[Note 37: In the District of Columbia work-house we have a counterpart
of this in the public bath-tub, wherein forty prisoners were seen by a
_Star_ reporter to bathe one after another in the same water!]
"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 traveler 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 those animals, who drank of the saline
waters and licked the impregnated earth. Mr. Thomas Ashe[38] 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 "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 300 each.
[Note 38: Travels in America in 1806. London, 1808.]
"The first and second years, so unacquainted were these poor brutes with
the use of this man's house or with his nature, that 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 2,000 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 and 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."
It was a fixed habit with the great buffalo herds to move southward from
200 to 400 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 on
treacherous ice. In such places thousands of buffaloes 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 Lac-qui-parle, 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 sand-bars.
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 en masse, 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 in the side of a high bridge because their bell-wether
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 McNaney, drawn from his experience on the
northern buffalo range in 1882. His party reached the range (on Beaver
Creek, about 100 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 their vicinity one
night, about 10 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 some one exclaimed, "There! that's a big herd of
buffalo coming in!" All ran out immediately, and hallooed and discharged
rifles to keep the buffaloes from running over their tents. Fortunately,
the horses were picketed some distance away in a grassy coulée, which
the buffaloes did not enter. The herd came at a jog trot, and moved
quite rapidly. "In the morning the whole country was black with
buffalo." It was estimated that 10,000 head were in sight. One immense
detachment went down on to 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, and which the hunters quietly attacked.
A still more striking event occurred about Christmas time at the same
place. For a few days the neighborhood of McNaney'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 hunters' camp. It
disappeared in the creek valley for a few moments, and presently the
leaders suddenly 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 50 yards of the two tents. After them came a living stream of
followers, all going at a gallop, described by the observer as "a long
lope," 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 11 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
hind quarters 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 fusilade 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. McNaney stated that the hunters estimated the number of buffaloes
_on that portion_ of the range that winter (1881-'82) at 100,000.
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 traveler should migrate. The herds or bands which
started south in the fall months traveled 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
eye-sight. 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 to-day, if a
Texas hunter should go into the Staked Plains, and descry 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 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
fall 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 snow-fall 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 hoofs of a ponderous bison cut like chisels and leave him
floundering belly-deep. It was at such times that the Indians hunted him
on snow-shoes, and drove their spears into his vitals as he wallowed
helplessly in the drifts. Then the wolves grew fat upon the victims
which they, also, slaughtered almost without effort.
Although buffaloes did not often 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.[39] While the elk
and black-tail 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.
[Note 39: On page 248 of his "North American Indians," vol. I, Mr.
Catlin declares pointedly that "these animals are, truly speaking,
gregarious, but not migratory; they graze in immense and almost
incredible numbers at times, and roam about and 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." 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 eater fully into the details of the
subject.]
At the approach of winter the whole great system of herds which ranged
from the Peace River to the Indian Territory moved 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 the 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 the 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.
Col. R. I. Dodge, who has made many valuable observations on the
migratory habits of the southern buffaloes, has recorded the
following:[40]
"Early in spring, as soon as the dry and apparently desert prairie had
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 oftentimes from
20 to 50 miles in width, and of 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 a
hundred 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 twenty-five years crossed the
Arkansas River east of Great Bend nor west of Big Sand Creek. The most
favored routes crossed the Arkansas at the mouth of Walnut Creek, Pawnee
Fork, Mulberry Creek, the Cimarron 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."
[Note 40: Our Wild Indians, p. 283, _et seq._]
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-breeds, which always took place
in summer, went in two directions from Winnipeg and Pembina--one, the
White Horse Plain division, going westward along the Qu'Appelle 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 bauds
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 the Saskatchewan, where they were hunted by the
half-breeds 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-breeds, came up from Kansas, Colorado, and Nebraska.
While most of the calves 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. Calves 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. McNaney 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 insure
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 humerus 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 ball, 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.
VI. THE FOOD OF THE BISON.
It is obviously impossible to enumerate all the grasses which served 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 favorite and most common food. It was the nutritious character and
marvelous abundance of his food supply which enabled the bison to exist
in such absolutely countless numbers as characterized 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:
_Bouteloua oligostachya_ (buffalo, grama, or mesquite grass).--This
remarkable grass formed the _pièce de résistance_ 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
nineteenth 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 any one 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 provincialis_). The grama grass is very short,
the leaves being usually not more than 2 or 3 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 eaten off and but seldom 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 spring-time 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 grama 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 paw down through it to
reach the grass, or else repair to wind-swept ridges and hill-tops,
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 bottom-lands, where moisture is abundant, this grass develops much
more luxuriantly, 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 11/2 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.
_Buchloë dactyloides_ (Southern buffalo-grass).--This species is next
in value and extent of distribution to the grama 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
_Bouteloua oligostachya_, but its general growth is very different. It
is very short, its general mass seldom rising more than 3 inches above
the ground. It grows in extensive patches, and spreads by means of
stolons, which sometimes are 2 feet in length, with joints every 3 or 4
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.
_Stipa spartea_ (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 pasturage, and
in that region is quite as famous as our grama grass. An allied species
(_Stipa 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" _Stipa
spartea_ 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 any
one 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 purpurea_ (Western beard-grass; purple "bunch-grass" of
Montana).--On the high, rolling prairies of the Missouri-Yellowstone
divide this grass is very abundant. It grows in little solitary bunches,
about 6 inches high, scattered through the curly buffalo-grass
(_Bouteloua oligostachya_). Under more favorable conditions it grows to
a height of 12 to 18 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 purpurea_ is
not sufficiently abundant elsewhere in the Northwest to make it an
important food for stock; but Dr. Vesey declares that it is "abundant on
the plains of Kansas, New Mexico, and Texas."
_Koeleria cristata._--Very generally distributed from Texas and New
Mexico to the British Possessions; sand hills and arid soils; mountains,
up to 8,000 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 foot-hills and mountains generally, up to an altitude of
7,000 feet, where it is succeeded by _Festuca ovina_.
_Andropogon provincialis_ (blue stem).--An important species, extending
from eastern Kansas and Nebraska to the foot-hills of the Rocky
Mountains, and from Northern Texas to the Saskatchewan; common in
Montana on alkali flats and bottom lands 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 to-day 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: _Koeleria
cristata_; _Poa tenuifolia_ (Western blue-grass); _Stipa viridula_
(feather-grass); _Stipa comata_; _Agropyrum divergens_; _Agropyrum
caninum_.
When pressed by hunger, the buffalo used to browse on certain species of
sage-brush, particularly _Atriplex canescens_ of the Southwest. 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 "loco"
weed (_Astragalus molissimus_), 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.
VII. 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 other feeling 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 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 a
lack of comprehension of danger.
The fur seals who cover the "hauling grounds" of St. Paul and St. George
Islands, 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 Aleuts to club their brains out.
It is to be added that whenever and wherever seals or 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 do 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 coulée, 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 could "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 up sprang 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 (1) away from their pursuer and (2)
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 10-mile chase. An
old bull once led one of our hunters around three-quarters of a circle
which had a diameter of 5 or 6 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 pressed 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 fire-arms_ 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 ingulfed 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 the Cape
buffaloes of Africa (_Bubalus 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 fall stop on the crest of the ridge, and turned half around 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 traveling nothing in front stops him, but an unusual
object in the rear will send him to the 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, Kans., 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:[41]
[Note 41: American Field, July 24, 1886, p. 78.]
"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.
(5) _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.
Colonel Dodge records a remarkable incident in illustration of the
manner in which the bull buffaloes protected the calves of the herd.[42]
[Note 42: Plains of the Great West, p. 125.]
"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 eye-witness.
"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 at some
12 or 15 paces distant sat, licking their chaps in impatient expectancy,
at least a dozen large gray wolves (excepting man, the most dangerous
enemy of the buffalo).