Produced by Eric Eldred, Marvin A. Hodges, Tonya Allen,
Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
[Illustration: THE SHADES OF SHERWOOD FOREST]
HUNTING with the
BOW & ARROW
By
Saxton Pope
With 48 Illustrations
* * * * *
DEDICATED
TO
ROBIN HOOD
A SPIRIT THAT AT SOME TIME DWELLS IN
THE HEART OF EVERY YOUTH
CONTENTS
I.--THE STORY OF THE LAST YANA INDIAN.
II.--ISHI'S BOW AND ARROW.
III.--ISHI'S METHODS OF HUNTING.
IV.--ARCHERY IN GENERAL.
V.--HOW TO MAKE A BOW.
VI.--HOW TO MAKE AN ARROW.
VII.--ARCHERY EQUIPMENT.
VIII.--HOW TO SHOOT.
IX.--THE PRINCIPLES OF HUNTING.
X.--THE RACCOON, WILDCAT, FOX, COON, CAT, AND WOLF.
XI.--DEER HUNTING.
XII.--BEAR HUNTING.
XIII.--MOUNTAIN LIONS.
XIV.--GRIZZLY BEAR.
XV.--ALASKAN ADVENTURES.
A CHAPTER OF ENCOURAGEMENT BY STEWART EDWARD WHITE.
THE UPSHOT.
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE SHADES OF SHERWOOD FOREST
A DEATH MASK OF ISHI
ISHI AND APPERSON
CALLING GAME IN AMBUSH
THE INDIAN'S FAVORITE SHOOTING POSITION
CHOPPING OUT A JUNIPER BOW
OUR CARAVAN LEAVING DEER CREEK CANYON
ISHI FLAKING AN OBSIDIAN ARROW HEAD
THE INDIAN AND A DEER
THREE TYPES OF HUNTING ARROWS
A BLUNT ARROW SHOT THROUGH AN INCH BOARD
"BRER" FOX UP A TREE
ART YOUNG SHOOTS FISH
DETAILS OF BOW CONSTRUCTION
SEVERAL STEPS IN ARROW MAKING
ARROW HEADS OF VARIOUS SORTS USED IN HUNTING
NECESSARY ARCHERY EQUIPMENT
AN ARCHER'S MEASURE, A FISTMELE
THE ENGLISH METHOD OF DRAWING THE ARROW
NOCKING THE SHAFT ON THE STRING
THE LONG BOW FULL DRAWN
WILL AND MAURICE THOMPSON, AS THEY APPEARED IN 1878
SHOOTING BRUSH RABBITS
ARCHERS IN AMBUSH
ISHI RIDING A HORSE FOR THE FIRST TIME
A REST AT NOON
A LYNX THAT MET AN ARCHER
THE CHIEF LOOKING OVER GOOD DEER COUNTRY
MR. COON BROUGHT INTO CAMP
A PRETTY PAIR OF WINGS
JUST A LITTLE HUNT BEFORE BREAKFAST
YOUNG AND COMPTON WITH A QUAIL APIECE
WOODCHUCKS GALORE!
PORCUPINE QUILLS TO DECORATE A QUIVER
A FATAL ARROW AT 65 YARDS
THE CHIEF AND ART GET A BUCK AT 85 YARDS
TOM MURPHY WITH HIS TWO BEST DOGS, BUTTON AND BALDY
YOUNG AND I ARE VERY PROUD OF OUR MAIDEN BEAR
ARTHUR YOUNG AND HIS COUGAR
OUR FIRST MOUNTAIN LION
WE PACK THE PANTHER TO CAMP
CAMP AT SQUAW LAKE, WYOMING
THE RESULT OF OUR FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH GRIZZLY BEAR
BRINGING HOME THE TROPHIES
LOOKING FOR GRIZZLIES ON CUB CREEK
THE TREE THAT NED FROST CLIMBED TO ESCAPE DEATH
MY FEMALE GRIZZLY AND THE ARROW THAT KILLED HER
ARTHUR YOUNG SLAYS THE MONARCH OF THE MOUNTAINS
BULL MOOSE BAGGED ON THE KENAI PENINSULA
THE GREAT KADIAC BEAR BROUGHT LOW
ARTHUR YOUNG OUTWITS THE ALASKA BIGHORN
* * * * *
Hunting with the Bow and Arrow
I
THE STORY OF THE LAST YANA INDIAN
The glory and romance of archery culminated in England before the
discovery of America. There, no doubt, the bow was used to its greatest
perfection, and it decided the fate of nations. The crossbow and the
matchlock had supplanted the longbow when Columbus sailed for the New
World.
It was, therefore, a distinct surprise to the first explorers of
America that the natives used the bow and arrow so effectively. In
fact, the sword and the horse, combined with the white man's
superlative self-assurance, won the contest over the aborigines more
than the primitive blunderbuss of the times. The bow and arrow was
still more deadly than the gun.
With the gradual extermination of the American Indian, the westward
march of civilization, and the improvement in firearms, this contest
became more and more unequal, and the bow disappeared from the land.
The last primitive Indian archer was discovered in California in the
year 1911.
When the white pioneers of California descended through the northern
part of that State by the Lassen trail, they met with a tribe of
Indians known as the Yana, or Yahi. That is the name they called
themselves. Their neighbors called them the Nozi, and the white men
called them the Deer Creek or Mill Creek Indians. Different from the
other tribes of this territory, the Yana would not submit without a
struggle to the white man's conquest of their lands.
The Yana were hunters and warriors. The usual California natives were
yellow in color, fat and inclined to be peaceable. The Yana were
smaller of stature, lithe, of reddish bronze complexion, and instead of
being diggers of roots, they lived by the salmon spear and the bow.
Their range extended over an area south of Mount Lassen, east of the
Sacramento River, for a distance of fifty miles.
From the earliest settlement of the whites, hostilities existed between
them. This resulted in definitely organized expeditions against these
Indians, and the annual slaughter of hundreds.
The last big round-up of Mill Creek Indians occurred in 1872, when
their tribe was surprised at its seasonal harvest of acorns. Upon this
occasion a posse of whites killed such a number of natives that it is
said the creek was damned with dead bodies. An accurate account of
these days may be obtained from Watterman's paper on the Yana Indians.
[1][Footnote 1: Vol. 13, No. 2, _Am. Archaeology and Ethnology_.]
During one of the final raids upon the Yana, a little band of Indian
women and children hid in a cave. Here they were discovered and
murdered in cold blood. One of the white scouting party laconically
stated that he used his revolver to blow out their brains because the
rifle spattered up the cave too much.
So it came to pass, that from two or three thousand people, the Yana
were reduced to less than a dozen who escaped extermination. These were
mainly women, old men and children. This tribal remnant sought the
refuge of the impenetrable brush and volcanic rocks of Deer Creek
Canyon. Here they lived by stealth and cunning. Like wild creatures,
they kept from sight until the whites quite forgot their existence.
It became almost a legend that wild Indians lived in the Mount Lassen
district. From time to time ranchers or sheep herders reported that
their flocks had been molested, that signs of Indians had been found or
that arrowheads were discovered in their sheep. But little credence was
given these rumors until the year 1908, when an electric power company
undertook to run a survey line across Deer Creek Canyon with the object
of constructing a dam.
One evening, as a party of linemen stood on a log at the edge of the
deep swift stream debating the best place to ford, a naked Indian rose
up before them, giving a savage snarl and brandishing a spear. In an
instant the survey party disbanded, fell from the log, and crossed the
stream in record-breaking time. When they stopped to get their breath,
the Indian had disappeared. This was the first appearance of Ishi, [2]
[Footnote 2: Ishi is pronounced "E-she."] the Yana.
Next morning an exploring expedition set out to verify the excited
report of the night before. The popular opinion was that no such
wildman existed, and that the linemen had been seeing things. One of
the group offered to bet that no signs of Indians would be found.
As the explorers reached the slide of volcanic boulders where the
apparition of the day before had disappeared, two arrows flew past
them. They made a run for the top of the slide and reached it just in
time to see two Indians vanish in the brush. They left behind them an
old white-haired squaw, whom they had been carrying. She was partially
paralyzed, and her legs were bound in swaths of willow bark, seemingly
in an effort to strengthen them.
The old squaw was wrinkled with age, her hair was cropped short as a
sign of mourning, and she trembled with fear. The white men approached
and spoke kindly to her in Spanish. But she seemed not to understand
their words, and apparently expected only death, for in the past to
meet a white man was to die. They gave her water to drink, and tried to
make her call back her companions, but without avail.
Further search disclosed two small brush huts hidden among the laurel
trees. So cleverly concealed were these structures that one could pass
within a few yards and not discern them. In one of the huts acorns and
dried salmon had been stored; the other was their habitation. There was
a small hearth for indoor cooking; bows, arrows, fishing tackle, a few
aboriginal utensils and a fur robe were found. These were confiscated
in the white man's characteristic manner. They then left the place and
returned to camp.
Next day the party revisited the site, hoping to find the rest of the
Indians. These, however, had gone forever.
Nothing more was seen or heard of this little band until the year 1911,
when on the outskirts of Oroville, some thirty-two miles from the Deer
Creek camp, a lone survivor appeared. Early in the morning, brought to
bay by a barking dog, huddled in the corner of a corral, was an
emaciated naked Indian. So strange was his appearance and so alarmed
was the butcher's boy who found him, that a hasty call for the town
constable brought out an armed force to capture him.
Confronted with guns, pistols, and handcuffs, the poor man was sick
with fear. He was taken to the city jail and locked up for safekeeping.
There he awaited death. For years he had believed that to fall into the
hands of white men meant death. All his people had been killed by
whites; no other result could happen. So he waited in fear and
trembling. They brought him food, but he would not eat; water, but he
would not drink. They asked him questions, but he could not speak. With
the simplicity of the white man, they brought him other Indians of
various tribes, thinking that surely all "Diggers" were the same. But
their language was as strange to him as Chinese or Greek.
And so they thought him crazy. His hair was burnt short, his feet had
never worn shoes, he had small bits of wood in his nose and ears; he
neither ate, drank, nor slept. He was indeed wild or insane.
By this time the news of the wild Indian got into the city papers, and
Professor T. T. Watterman, of the Department of Anthropology at the
University of California, was sent to investigate the case. He
journeyed to Oroville and was brought into the presence of this strange
Indian. Having knowledge of many native dialects, Dr. Watterman tried
one after the other on the prisoner. Through good fortune, some of the
Yana vocabulary had been preserved in the records of the University.
Venturing upon this lost language, Watterman spoke in Yana the words,
_Siwini_, which means pine wood, tapping at the same time the edge of
the cot on which they sat.
In wonderment, the Indian's face lighted with faint recognition.
Watterman repeated the charm, and like a spell the man changed from a
cowering, trembling savage. A furtive smile came across his face. He
said in his language, _I nu ma Yaki_--"Are you an Indian?" Watterman
assured him that he was.
A great sense of relief entered the situation. Watterman had discovered
one of the lost tribes of California; Ishi had discovered a friend.
They clothed him and fed him, and he learned that the white man was
good.
Since no formal charges were lodged against the Indian, and he seemed
to have no objection, Watterman took him to San Francisco, and there,
attached to the Museum of Anthropology, he became a subject of study
and lived happily for five years.
From him it was learned that his people were all dead. The old woman
seen in the Deer Creek episode was his mother; the old man was his
uncle. These died on a long journey to Mt. Lassen, soon after their
discovery. Here he had burned their bodies and gone into mourning. The
fact that the white men took their means of procuring food, as well as
their clothing, contributed, no doubt, to the death of the older
people.
Half starved and hopeless, he had wandered into civilization. His
father, once the chieftain of the Yana tribe, having domain over all
the country immediately south of Mt. Lassen, was long since gone, and
with him all his people. Ranchers and stockmen had usurped their
country, spoiled the fishing, and driven off the game. The acorn trees
of the valleys had been taken from them; nothing remained but evil
spirits in the land of his forefathers.
Now, however, he had found kindly people who fed him, clothed him, and
taught him the mysteries of civilization. When asked his name, he said:
"I have none, because there were no people to name me," meaning that no
tribal ceremony had been performed. But the old people had called him
Ishi, which means "strong and straight one," for he was the youth of
their camp. He had learned to make fire with sticks; he knew the lost
art of chipping arrowheads from flint and obsidian; he was the
fisherman and the hunter. He knew nothing of our modern life. He had no
name for iron, nor cloth, nor horse, nor road. He was as primitive as
the aborigines of the pre-Columbian period. In fact, he was a man in
the Stone Age. He was absolutely untouched by civilization. In him
science had a rare find. He turned back the pages of history countless
centuries. And so they studied him, and he studied them.
From him they learned little of his personal history and less of that
of his family, because an Indian considers it unbecoming to speak much
of his own life, and it brings ill luck to speak of the dead. He could
not pronounce the name of his father without calling him from the land
of spirits, and this he could only do for some very important reason.
But he knew the full history of his tribe and their destruction.
His apparent age was about forty years, yet he undoubtedly was nearer
sixty. Because of his simple life he was in physical prime, mentally
alert, and strong in body.
He was about five feet eight inches tall, well proportioned, had
beautiful hands and unspoiled feet.
His features were less aquiline than those of the Plains Indian, yet
strongly marked outlines, high cheek bones, large intelligent eyes,
straight black hair, and fine teeth made him good to look upon.
As an artisan he was very skilful and ingenious. Accustomed to
primitive tools of stone and bone, he soon learned to use most expertly
the knife, file, saw, vise, hammer, ax, and other modern implements.
Although he marveled at many of our inventions and appreciated matches,
he took great pride in his ability to make fire with two sticks of
buckeye. This he could do in less than two minutes by twirling one on
the other.
About this time I became an instructor in surgery at the University
Medical School, which is situated next to the Museum. Ishi was employed
here in a small way as a janitor to teach him modern industry and the
value of money. He was perfectly happy and a great favorite with
everybody.
From his earliest experience with our community life he manifested
little immunity to disease. He contracted all the epidemic infections
with which he was brought in contact. He lived a very hygienic
existence, having excellent food and sleeping outdoors, but still he
was often sick. Because of this I came in touch with him as his
physician in the hospital, and soon learned to admire him for the fine
qualities of his nature.
[Illustration: A DEATH MASK OF ISHI, THE LAST YANA INDIAN]
Though very reserved, he was kindly, honest, cleanly, and trustworthy.
More than this, he had a superior philosophy of life, and a high moral
standard.
By degrees I learned to speak his dialect, and spent many hours in his
company. He told us the folk lore of his tribe. More than forty myths
or animal stories of his have been recorded and preserved. They are as
interesting as the stories of Uncle Remus. The escapades of wildcat,
the lion, the grizzly bear, the bluejay, the lizard, and the coyote are
as full of excitement and comedy as any fairy story.
He knew the history and use of everything in the outdoor world. He
spoke the language of the animals. He taught me to make bows and
arrows, how to shoot them, and how to hunt, Indian fashion. He was a
wonderful companion in the woods, and many days and nights we journeyed
together.
After he had been with us three years we took him back to his own
country. But he did not want to stay. He liked the ways of the white
man, and his own land was full of the spirits of the departed.
He showed us old forgotten camp sites where past chieftains made their
villages. He took us to deer licks and ambushes used by his people long
ago. One day in passing the base of a great rock he scratched with his
toe and dug up the bones of a bear's paw. Here, in years past, they had
killed and roasted a bear. This was the camp of _Ya mo lo ku_. His own
camp was called _Wowomopono Tetna_ or bear wallow.
We swam the streams together, hunted deer and small game, and at night
sat under the stars by the camp fire, where in a simple way we talked
of old heroes, the worlds above us, and his theories of the life to
come in the land of plenty, where the bounding deer and the mighty bear
met the hunter with his strong bow and swift arrows.
I learned to love Ishi as a brother, and he looked upon me as one of
his people. He called me _Ku wi_, or Medicine Man; more, perhaps,
because I could perform little sleight of hand tricks, than because of
my profession.
But, in spite of the fact that he was happy and surrounded by the most
advanced material culture, he sickened and died. Unprotected by
hereditary or acquired immunity, he contracted tuberculosis and faded
away before our eyes. Because he had no natural resistance, he received
no benefit from such hygienic measures as serve to arrest the disease
in the Caucasian. We did everything possible for him, and nursed him to
the painful bitter end.
When his malady was discovered, plans were made to take him back to the
mountains whence he came and there have him cared for properly. We
hoped that by this return to his natural elements he would recover. But
from the inception of his disease he failed so rapidly that he was not
strong enough to travel.
Consumed with fever and unable to eat nourishing food, he seemed doomed
from the first. After months of misery he suddenly developed a
tremendous pulmonary hemorrhage. I was with him at the time, directed
his medication, and gently stroked his hand as a small sign of
fellowship and sympathy. He did not care for marked demonstrations of
any sort.
He was a stoic, unafraid, and died in the faith of his people.
As an Indian should go, so we sent him on his long journey to the land
of shadows. By his side we placed his fire sticks, ten pieces of
dentalia or Indian money, a small bag of acorn meal, a bit of dried
venison, some tobacco, and his bow and arrows.
These were cremated with him and the ashes placed in an earthen jar. On
it is inscribed "Ishi, the last Yana Indian, 1916."
And so departed the last wild Indian of America. With him the neolithic
epoch terminates. He closes a chapter in history. He looked upon us as
sophisticated children--smart, but not wise. We knew many things and
much that is false. He knew nature, which is always true. His were the
qualities of character that last forever. He was essentially kind; he
had courage and self-restraint, and though all had been taken from him,
there was no bitterness in his heart. His soul was that of a child, his
mind that of a philosopher.
With him there was no word for good-by. He said: "You stay, I go."
He has gone and he hunts with his people. We stay, and he has left us
the heritage of the bow.
II
HOW ISHI MADE HIS BOW AND ARROW AND HIS METHODS OF SHOOTING
Although much has been written in history and fiction concerning the
archery of the North American Indian, strange to say, very little has
been recorded of the methods of manufacture of their weapons, and less
in accurate records of their shooting.
It is a great privilege to have lived with an unspoiled aborigine and
seen him step by step construct the most perfect type of bow and arrow.
The workmanship of Ishi was by far the best of any Indian in America;
compared with thousands of specimens in the museum, his arrows were the
most carefully and beautifully made; his bow was the best.
It would take too much time to go into the minute details of his work,
and this has all been recorded in anthropologic records, [1]
[Footnote 1: See _Yahi Archery_, Vol. 13, No. 3, _Am. Archaeology and
Ethnology_.]
but the outlines of his methods are as follows:
The bow, Ishi called _man-nee_. It was a short, flat piece of mountain
juniper backed with sinew. The length was forty-two inches, or, as he
measured it, from the horizontally extended hand to the opposite hip.
It was broadest at the center of each limb, approximately two inches,
and half an inch thick. The cross-section of this part was elliptical.
At the center of the bow the handgrip was about an inch and a quarter
wide by three-quarters thick, a cross-section being ovoid. At the tips
it was curved gently backward and measured at the nocks three-quarters
by one-half an inch. The nock itself was square shouldered and
terminated in a pin half an inch in diameter and an inch long.
The wood was obtained by splitting a limb from a tree and utilizing the
outer layers, including the sap wood. By scraping and rubbing on
sandstone, he shaped and finished it. The recurved tips of the bow he
made by bending the wood backward over a heated stone. Held in shape by
cords and binding to another piece of wood, he let his bow season in a
dark, dry place. Here it remained from a few months to years, according
to his needs. After being seasoned he backed it with sinew. First he
made a glue by boiling salmon skin and applying it to the roughened
back of the bow. When it was dry he laid on long strips of deer sinew
obtained from the leg tendons. By chewing these tendons and separating
their fibers, they became soft and adhesive. Carefully overlapping the
ends of the numerous fibers he covered the entire back very thickly. At
the nocks he surrounded the wood completely and added a circular
binding about the bow.
During the process of drying he bound the sinew tightly to the bow with
long, thin strips of willow bark. After several days he removed this
bandage and smoothed off the edges of the dry sinew, sized the surface
with more glue and rubbed everything smooth with sandstone. Then he
bound the handgrip for a space of four inches with a narrow buckskin
thong.
In his native state he seems never to have greased his bow nor
protected it from moisture, except by his bow case, which was made of
the skin from a cougar's tail. But while with us he used shellac to
protect the glue and wood. Other savages use buck fat or bear grease.
The bowstring he made of the finer tendons from the deer's shank. These
he chewed until soft, then twisted them tightly into a cord having a
permanent loop at one end and a buckskin strand at the other. While wet
the string was tied between two twigs and rubbed smooth with spittle.
Its diameter was one-eighth of an inch, its length about forty-eight
inches. When dry the loop was applied to the upper nock of his bow
while he bent the bow over his knee and wound the opposite end of the
string about the lower nock. The buckskin thong terminating this
portion of the string made it easier to tie in several half hitches.
When braced properly the bowstring was about five inches from the belly
of the bow. And when not in use and unstrung the upper loop was slipped
entirely off the nock, but held from falling away from the bow by a
second small loop of buckskin.
Drawn to the full length of an arrow, which was about twenty-six
inches, exclusive of the foreshaft, his bow bent in a perfect arc
slightly flattened at the handle. Its pull was about forty-five pounds,
and it could shoot an arrow about two hundred yards.
This is not the most powerful type of weapon known to Indians, and even
Ishi did make stronger bows when he pleased; but this seemed to be the
ideal weight for hunting, and it certainly was adequate in his hands.
According to English standards, it was very short; but for hunting in
the brush and shooting from crouched postures, it seems better fitted
for the work than a longer weapon.
According to Ishi, a bow left strung or standing in an upright
position, gets tired and sweats. When not in use it should be lying
down; no one should step over it; no child should handle it, and no
woman should touch it. This brings bad luck and makes it shoot crooked.
To expunge such an influence it is necessary to wash the bow in sand
and water.
In his judgment, a good bow made a musical note when strung and the
string is tapped with the arrow. This was man's first harp, the great
grandfather of the pianoforte.
By placing one end of his bow at the corner of his open mouth and
tapping the string with an arrow, the Yana could make sweet music. It
sounded like an Aeolian harp. To this accompaniment Ishi sang a
folk-song telling of a great warrior whose bow was so strong that,
dipping his arrow first in fire, then in the ocean, he shot at the sun.
As swift as the wind, his arrow flew straight in the round open door of
the sun and put out its light. Darkness fell upon the earth and men
shivered with cold. To prevent themselves from freezing they grew
feathers, and thus our brothers, the birds, were born.
Ishi called an arrow _sa wa_.
In making arrows the first thing is to get the shafts. Ishi used many
woods, but he preferred witch hazel. The long, straight stems of this
shrub he cut in lengths of thirty-two inches, having a diameter of
three-eighths of an inch at the base when peeled of bark.
He bound a number of these together and put them away in a shady place
to dry. After a week or more, preferably several months, he selected
the best shafts and straightened them. This he accomplished by holding
the concave surface near a small heap of hot embers and when warm he
either pressed his great toe on the opposite side, or he bent the wood
backward on the base of the thumb. Squinting down its axis he lined up
the uneven contours one after the other and laid the shaft aside until
a series of five was completed. He made up arrows in lots of five or
ten, according to the requirements, his fingers being the measure.
The sticks thus straightened he ran back and forth between two grooved
pieces of sandstone or revolved them on his thigh while holding the
stones in his hand, until they were smooth and reduced to a diameter of
about five-sixteenths of an inch. Next they were cut into lengths of
approximately twenty-six inches. The larger end was now bound with a
buckskin thong and drilled out for the depth of an inch and a half to
receive the end of the foreshaft. He drilled this hole by fixing a
long, sharp bone in the ground between his great toes and revolved the
upright shaft between his palms on this fixed point, the buckskin
binding keeping the wood from splitting.
The foreshaft was made of heavier wood, frequently mountain mahogany.
It was the same diameter as the arrow, only tapering a trifle toward
the front end, and usually was about six inches long. This was
carefully shaped into a spindle at the larger end and set in the
recently drilled hole of the shaft, using glue or resin for this
purpose. The joint was bound with chewed sinew, set in glue.
The length of an arrow, over all, was estimated by Ishi in this manner.
He placed one end on the top of his breast-bone and held the other end
out in his extended left hand. Where it touched the tip of his
forefinger it was cut as the proper length. This was about thirty-two
inches.
The rear end of his arrow was now notched to receive the bowstring. He
filed it with a bit of obsidian, or later on, with three hacksaw blades
bound together until he made a groove one-eighth of an inch wide by
three-eighths deep. The opposite end of the shaft was notched in a
similar way to receive the head. The direction of this latter cut was
such that when the arrow was on the bow the edge of the arrowhead was
perpendicular, for the fancied reason that in this position the arrow
when shot enters between the ribs of an animal more readily. He did not
seem to recognize that an arrow rotates.
At this stage he painted his shafts. The pigments used in the wilds
were red cinnabar, black pigment from the eye of trout, a green
vegetable dye from wild onions, and a blue obtained, he said, from the
root of a plant. These were mixed with the sap or resin of trees and
applied with a little stick or hairs from a fox's tail drawn through a
quill.
His usual design was a series of alternating rings of green and black
starting two inches from the rear end and running four inches up the
shaft. Or he made small circular dots and snaky lines running down the
shaft for a similar distance. When with us he used dry colors mixed
with shellac, which he preferred to oil paints because they dried
quicker. The painted area, intended for the feathers, is called the
shaftment and not only helps in finding lost arrows, but identifies the
owner. This entire portion he usually smeared with thin glue or sizing.
A number of shafts having been similarly prepared, the Indian was ready
to feather them. A feather he called _pu nee_. In fledging arrows Ishi
used eagle, buzzard, hawk or flicker feathers. Owl feathers Indians
seem to avoid, thinking they bring bad luck. By preference he took them
from the wings, but did not hesitate to use tail feathers if reduced to
it. With us he used turkey pinions.
Grasping one between the heel of his two palms he carefully separated
the bristles at the tip of the feather with his fingers and pulled them
apart, splitting the quill its entire length. This is called stripping
a feather. Taking the wider half he firmly held one end on a rock with
his great toe, and the other end between the thumb and forefinger of
his left hand. With a piece of obsidian, or later on a knife blade, he
scraped away the pith until the rib was thin and flat.
Having prepared a sufficient number in this way he gathered them in
groups of three, all from similar wings, tied them with a bit of string
and dropped them in a vessel of water. When thoroughly wet and limp
they were ready for use.
While he chewed up a strand of sinew eight or ten inches long, he
picked up a group of feathers, stripped off the water, removed one, and
after testing its strength, folded the last two inches of bristles down
on the rib, and the rest he ruffled backward, thus leaving a free space
for later binding. He prepared all three like this.
Picking up an arrow shaft he clamped it between his left arm and chest,
holding the rear end above the shaftment in his left hand. Twirling it
slowly in this position, he applied one end of the sinew near the nock,
fixing it by overlapping. The first movements were accomplished while
holding one extremity of the sinew in his teeth; later, having applied
the feathers to the stick, he shifted the sinew to the grasp of the
right thumb and forefinger.
One by one he laid the feathers in position, binding down the last two
inches of stem and the wet barbs together. The first feather he applied
on a line perpendicular to the plane of the nock; the two others were
equidistant from this. For the space of an inch he lapped the sinew
about the feathers and arrow-shaft, slowly rotating it all the while, at
last smoothing the binding with his thumb nail.
The rear ends having been lashed in position, the arrow was set aside
to dry while the rest were prepared.
Five or ten having reached this stage and the binding being dry and
secure, he took one again between his left arm and chest, and with his
right hand drew all the feathers straight and taut, down the shaft.
Here he held them with the fingers of his left hand. Having marked a
similar place on each arrow where the sinew was to go, he cut the
bristles off the rib. At this point he started binding with another
piece of wet sinew. After a few turns he drew the feathers taut again
and cut them, leaving about a half inch of rib. This he bound down
completely to the arrow-shaft and finished all by smoothing the wet
lapping with his thumb nail.
The space between the rib and the wood he sometimes smeared with more
glue to cause the feather to adhere to the shaft, but this was not the
usual custom with him. After all was dry and firm, Ishi took the arrow
and beat it gently across his palm so that the feathers spread out
nicely.
As a rule the length of his feathers was four inches, though on
ceremonial arrows they often were as long as eight inches.
After drying, the feathers were cut with a sharp piece of obsidian,
using a straight stick as a guide and laying the arrow on a flat piece
of wood. When with us he trimmed them with scissors, making a straight
cut from the full width of the feather in back, to the height of a
quarter of an inch at the forward extremity. On his arrows he left the
natural curve of the feather at the nock, and while the rear binding
started an inch or more from the butt of the arrow, the feather drooped
over the nock. This gave a pretty effect and seemed to add to the
steering qualities of the missile.
Two kinds of points were used on Ishi's arrows. One was the simple
blunt end of the shaft bound with sinew used for killing small game and
practice shots. The other was his hunting head, made of flint or
obsidian. He preferred the latter.
Obsidian was used as money among the natives of California. A boulder
of this volcanic glass was packed from some mountainous districts and
pieces were cracked off and exchanged for dried fish, venison, or
weapons. It was a medium of barter. Although all men were more or less
expert in flaking arrowheads and knives, the better grades of bows,
arrows, and arrow points were made by the older, more expert
specialists of the tribe.
Ishi often referred to one old Indian, named _Chu no wa yahi_, who
lived at the base of a great cliff with his crazy wife. This man owned
an ax, and thus was famous for his possessions as well as his skill as
a maker of bows. From a distant mountain crest one day Ishi pointed out
to me the camp of this Indian who was long since dead. If ever Ishi
wished to refer to a hero of the bow, or having been beaten in a shot,
he always told us what _Chu no wa yahi_ could have done.
To make arrowheads properly one should smear his face with mud and sit
out in the hot sun in a quiet secluded spot. The mud is a precaution
against harm from the flying chips of glass, possibly also a good luck
ritual. If by chance a bit of glass should fly in the eye, Ishi's
method of surgical relief was to hold his lower lid wide open with one
finger while he slapped himself violently on the head with the other
hand. I am inclined to ascribe the process of removal more to the
hydraulic effect of the tears thus started than to the mechanical jar
of the treatment.
He began this work by taking one chunk of obsidian and throwing it
against another; several small pieces were thus shattered off. One of
these, approximately three inches long, two inches wide and half an
inch thick, was selected as suitable for an arrowhead, or _haka_.
Protecting the palm of his left hand by a piece of thick buckskin, Ishi
placed a piece of obsidian flat upon it, holding it firmly with his
fingers folded over it.
In his right hand he held a short stick on the end of which was lashed
a sharp piece of deer horn. Grasping the horn firmly while the longer
extremity lay beneath his forearm, he pressed the point of the horn
against the edge of the obsidian. Without jar or blow, a flake of glass
flew off, as large as a fish scale. Repeating this process at various
spots on the intended head, turning it from side to side, first
reducing one face, then the other, he soon had a symmetrical point. In
half an hour he could make the most graceful and perfectly proportioned
arrowhead imaginable. The little notches fashioned to hold the sinew
binding below the barbs he shaped with a smaller piece of bone, while
the arrowhead was held on the ball of his thumb.
Flint, plate glass, old bottle glass, onyx--all could be worked with
equal facility. Beautiful heads were fashioned from blue bottles and
beer bottles.
The general size of these points was two inches for length,
seven-eighths for width, and one-eighth for thickness. Larger heads
were used for war and smaller ones for shooting bears.
Such a head, of course, was easily broken if the archer missed his
shot. This made him very careful about the whole affair of shooting.
When ready for use, these heads were set on the end of the shaft with
heated resin and bound in place with sinew which encircled the end of
the arrow and crossed diagonally through the barb notches with many
recurrences.
Such a point has better cutting qualities in animal tissue than has
steel. The latter is, of course, more durable. After entering
civilization, Ishi preferred to use iron or steel blades of the same
general shape, or having a short tang for insertion in the arrowhead.
Ishi carried anywhere from five to sixty arrows in a quiver made of
otter skin which hung suspended by a loop of buckskin over his left
shoulder.
His method of bracing or stringing the bow was as follows: Grasping it
with his right hand at its center, with the belly toward him, and the
lower end on his right thigh, he held the upper end with his left hand
while the loop of the string rested between his finger and thumb. By
pressing downward at the handle and pulling upward with the left hand
he so sprung the bow that the loop of the cord could be slipped over
the upper nock.
[Illustration: ISHI AND APPERSON, THE GUIDE, ONCE OLD ENEMIES, NOW
FRIENDS]
[Illustration: CALLING GAME IN AMBUSH]
[Illustration: THE INDIAN'S FAVORITE SHOOTING POSITION]
[Illustration: CHOPPING OUT A JUNIPER BOW]
In nocking his arrow, the bow was held diagonally across the body, its
upper end pointing to the left. It was held lightly in the palm of the
left hand so that it rested loosely in the notch of the thumb while the
fingers partially surrounded the handle. Taking an arrow from his
quiver, he laid it across the bow on its right side where it lay
between the extended fingers of his left hand. He gently slid the arrow
forward until the nock slipped over the string at its center. Here he
set it properly in place and put his right thumb under the string,
hooked upward ready to pull. At the same time he flexed his forefinger
against the side of the arrow, and the second finger was placed on the
thumb nail to strengthen the pull.
Thus he accomplished what is known as the Mongolian release.
Only a few nations ever used this type of arrow release, and the Yana
seem to have been the only American natives to do so. [2]
[Footnote 2: See Morse on _Arrow Release_.]
To draw his bow he extended his left arm. At the same time he pulled
his right hand toward him. The bow arm was almost in front of him,
while his right hand drew to the top of his breast bone. With both eyes
open he sighted along his shaft and estimated the elevation according
to the distance to be shot.
He released firmly and without change of position until the arrow hit.
He preferred to shoot kneeling or squatting, for this was most
favorable for getting game.
His shooting distances were from ten yards up to fifty. Past this range
he did not think one should shoot, but sought rather to approach his
game more closely.
In his native state he practiced shooting at little oak balls, or
bundles of grass bound to represent rabbits, or little hoops of willow
rolled along the ground. Like all other archers, if Ishi missed a shot
he always had a good excuse. There was too much wind, or the arrow was
crooked, or the bow had lost its cast, or, as a last resource, the
coyote doctor bewitched him, which is the same thing we mean when we
say it is just bad luck. While with us he shot at the regulation straw
target, and he is the first and only Indian of whose shooting any
accurate records have been made.
Many exaggerated reports exist concerning the accuracy of the shooting
of American Indians; but here we have one who shot ever since
childhood, who lived by hunting, and must have been as good, if not
better, than the average.
He taught us to shoot Indian style at first, but later we learned the
old English methods and found them superior to the Indian. At the end
of three months' practice, Dr. J. V. Cooke and I could shoot as well as
Ishi at targets, but he could surpass us at game shooting.
Ishi never thought very much of our long bows. He always said, "Too
much _man-nee_." And he always insisted that arrows should be painted
red and green.
But when we began beating him at targets, he took all his shafts home
and scraped the paint off them, putting back rings of blue and yellow,
doubtless to change his luck. In spite of our apparent superiority at
some forms of shooting, he never changed his methods to meet
competition. We, of course, did not want him to.
Small objects the size of a quail the Indian could hit with regularity
up to twenty yards. And I have seen him kill ground squirrels at forty
yards; yet at the same distances he might miss a four-foot target. He
explained this by saying that the target was too large and the bright
colored rings diverted the attention. He was right.
There is a regular system of shooting in archery competition. In
America there is what is known as the American Round, which consists of
shooting thirty arrows at each of the following distances: sixty,
fifty, and forty yards. The bull's-eye on the target is a trifle over
nine inches and is surrounded by four rings of half this diameter.
Their value is 9, 7, 5, 3, 1, successively counting from the center
outward. The target itself is constructed of straw, bound in the form
of a mat four feet in diameter, covered with a canvas facing.
Counting the hits and scores on the various distances, a good archer
will make the following record. Here is Arthur Young's best score:
March 25, 1917.
At 60 yards 30 hits 190 score 11 golds
50 yards 30 hits 198 score 9 golds
40 yards 30 hits 238 score 17 golds
Total 90 hits 626 score 37 golds
This is one of the best scores made by American archers.
Ishi's best record is as follows:
October 23, 1914.
At 60 yards 10 hits 32 score
50 yards 20 hits 92 score 2 golds
40 yards 19 hits 99 score 2 golds
Total 49 hits 223 score 4 golds
His next best score was this:
At 60 yards 13 hits 51 score
50 yards 17 hits 59 score
40 yards 22 hits 95 score
Total 52 hits 205 score
My own best practice American round is as follows:
May 22, 1917.
At 60 yards 29 hits 157 score
50 yards 29 hits 185 score
40 yards 30 hits 196 score
Total 88 hits 538 score
Anything over 500 is considered good shooting.
It will be seen from this that the Indian was not a good target shot,
but in field shooting and getting game, probably he could excel the
white man.
III
ISHI'S METHODS OF HUNTING
Hunting with Ishi was pure joy. Bow in hand, he seemed to be
transformed into a being light as air and as silent as falling snow.
From the very first we went on little expeditions into the country
where, without appearing to instruct, he was my teacher in the old, old
art of the chase. I followed him into a new system of getting game. We
shot rabbits, quail, and squirrels with the bow. His methods here were
not so well defined as in the approach to larger game, but I was struck
from the first by his noiseless step, his slow movements, his use of
cover. These little animals are flushed by sound and sight, not scent.
Another prominent feature of Ishi's work in the field was his
indefatigable persistence. He never gave up when he knew a rabbit was
in a clump of brush. Time meant nothing to him; he simply stayed until
he got his game. He would watch a squirrel hole for an hour if
necessary, but he always got the squirrel.
He made great use of the game call. We all know of duck and turkey
calls, but when he told me that he lured rabbits, tree squirrels,
wildcats, coyote, and bear to him, I thought he was romancing. Going
along the trail, he would stop and say, "_Ineja teway--bjum--metchi bi
wi_," or "This is good rabbit ground." Then crouching behind a suitable
bush as a blind, he would place the fingers of his right hand against
his lips and, going through the act of kissing, he produced a plaintive
squeak similar to that given by a rabbit caught by a hawk or in mortal
distress. This he repeated with heartrending appeals until suddenly one
or two or sometimes three rabbits appeared in the opening. They came
from distances of a hundred yards or more, hopped forward, stopped and
listened, hopped again, listened, and ultimately came within ten or
fifteen yards while Ishi dragged out his squeak in a most pathetic
manner. Then he would shoot.
To test his ability one afternoon while hunting deer, I asked the Yana
to try his call in twelve separate locations. From these twelve calls
we had five jackrabbits and one wildcat approach us. The cat came out
of the forest, cautiously stepped nearer and sat upon a log in a bright
open space not more than fifty yards away while I shot three arrows at
him, one after the other; the last clipped him between the ears.
This call being a cry of distress, rabbits and squirrels come with the
idea of protecting their young. They run around in a circle, stamp
their feet, and make great demonstrations of anger, probably as much to
attract the attention of the supposed predatory beast and decoy him
away, as anything else.
The cat, the coyote, and the bear come for no such humane motive; they
are thinking of food, of joining the feast.
I learned the call myself, not perfectly, but well enough to bring
squirrels down from the topmost branches of tall pines, to have foxes
and lynx approach me, and to get rabbits.
Not only could Ishi call the animals, but he understood their language.
Often when we have been hunting he has stopped and said, "The squirrel
is scolding a fox." At first I said to him, "I don't believe you." Then
he would say, "Wait! Look!" Hiding behind a tree or rock or bush, in a
few minutes we would see a fox trot across the open forest.
It seemed that for a hawk or cat or man, the squirrel has a different
call, such that Ishi could say without seeing, what molested his little
brother.
Often have we stopped and rested because, so he said, a bluejay called
far and wide, "Here comes a man!" There was no use going farther, the
animals all knew of our presence. Only a white hunter would advance
under these circumstances.
Ishi could smell deer, cougar, and foxes like an animal, and often
discovered them first this way. He could imitate the call of quail to
such an extent that he spoke a half-dozen sentences to them. He knew
the crow of the cock on sentinel duty when he signals to others; he
knew the cry of warning, and the run-to-shelter cry of the hen; her
command to her little ones to fly; and the "lie low" cluck; then at
last the "all's well" chirp.
Deer he could call in the fawn season by placing a folded leaf between
his lips and sucking vigorously. This made a bleat such as a lamb
gives, or a boy makes blowing on a blade of grass between his thumbs.
He also enticed deer by means of a stuffed buck's head which he wore as
a cap, and bobbing up and down behind bushes excited their curiosity
until they approached within bow-shot. Ordinarily in hunting deer, the
Indian used what is termed the still hunt, but with him it was more
than that. First of all he studied the country for its formation of
hills, ridges, valleys, canyons, brush and timber. He observed the
direction of the prevailing winds, the position of the sun at daybreak
and evening. He noted the water holes, game trails, "buck look-outs,"
deer beds, the nature of the feeding grounds, the stage of the moon,
the presence of salt licks, and many other features of importance. If
possible, he located the hiding-place of the old bucks in daytime, all
of which every careful hunter does. Next, he observed the habits of
game, and the presence or absence of predatory beasts that kill deer.
Having decided these and other questions, he prepared for the hunt. He
would eat no fish the day before the hunt, and smoke no tobacco, for
these odors are detected a great way off. He rose early, bathed in the
creek, rubbed himself with the aromatic leaves of yerba buena, washed
out his mouth, drank water, but ate no food. Dressed in a loin cloth,
but without shirt, leggings or moccasins, he set out, bow and quiver at
his side. He said that clothing made too much noise in the brush, and
naturally one is more cautious in his movements when reminded by his
sensitive hide that he is touching a sharp twig.