COWS IN A SNOW-DRIFT
The next morning the snow had ceased falling and the sun shone bright
and clear. Hugh declared that it was just the day for putting out his
coyote baits, which he intended to string along the mountains north
of the house, to try to poison some of the coyotes that were watching
the calves. These baits were blocks of wood in which one and a half
inch augur holes had been bored to a depth of three inches. Into
these holes melted tallow had been poured until the holes were full.
The coyotes were expected to eat little balls of tallow containing
strychnine scattered on the ground, and to remain near the blocks,
licking at the tallow in the augur holes, until the poison which they
had taken should act, so that they would die near the blocks. Thus
the wolfer would get the skins of the animals that he killed.
Hugh put the blocks containing the baits in two sacks and lashed them
on a pack horse, and soon with Jack and John he was riding through
the snow north along the mountain-side. Soon after starting, Hugh
tied a piece of elk-hide to one end of his rope, and taking a turn
of the other around the horn of his saddle, dragged it behind him
over the snow. This, he told Jack, was to lead the wolves to follow
the trail, so that they might come to the baits. "Of course," he
said, "they'd follow it up anyhow, but the smell of this hide'll
keep 'em thinking about eating." After they had gone a few hundred
yards, Hugh dismounted on top of a little ridge, and here threw down
one of his pieces of wood, and about it scattered several balls of
poisoned tallow and a handful of chips of dried meat, which he took
from a sack. This he repeated at intervals of half a mile as they
went along. When they reached the spot where the cows were, they
found most of them feeding on a warm, sheltered hillside, which was
almost free from snow. There were now many more calves than when they
had seen them last. Hugh sat for a long time looking at the animals,
while John Monroe rode to the top of a near-by hill, from which
after a moment he called aloud, made some motions with his hands and
pointed.
"That's good," said Hugh to Jack. "He sees them cows." They galloped
up to John who motioned toward the mountains where a number of dark
animals were seen standing in the snow.
"Well, John," said Hugh, "we've got to get them out. It's a bad
place, too. There's a big drift there. I'll bet the snow's four feet
deep."
Riding toward the cows, they saw that there were seven of them
standing in the deep snow, which reached half way up to their backs.
Two or three of them had moved a little, treading down the snow
about them so that they had room to turn around; beside these, calves
were standing. All the cows looked cold and hungry and fierce-eyed,
and two or three shook their heads angrily as the horsemen pushed
their way toward them through the ever-deepening snow.
"Well, now, boys," said Hugh, "we've got to break a road as near the
critters as we can, and then rope 'em and snake 'em out. Son, you'll
have to look out. Every one of them cows is fighting mad, and likely
every one of 'em's got a calf, which will make her fight harder.
John, you and me'd better take this nearest one first. Son, when we
get the ropes on her, maybe you can get around and hurry the calf
along close to her."
For a few moments Hugh, John and Jack rode back and forth through
the deep snow, until they had broken a trail from a point where the
snow was only knee-deep nearly to where the nearest cow stood. Each
time when they got near her, she shook her head at them and looked
as if she were going to charge. When the road through the snow was
pretty well broken, John and Hugh rode up near to the cow, and then
separating, each of them threw his rope. Hugh's settled fairly over
both horns, but John's caught only one of them, slipped off and
had to be gathered and thrown again. Then both men turned their
horses toward the path and slowly dragged the cow over and through
the snow. As the cow, bellowing and struggling furiously, passed
along, a pitiful feeble cry came from the hole where she had stood,
and Jack, spurring his horse up to the place, saw standing there a
little weak staggering calf. The snow was deep, even where the cow
had been dragged, and the calf could not get out of the hole. As Jack
sat there gazing at it, suddenly a rope flew over the calf's neck,
and looking, Jack saw John whirling his horse, and then saw the calf
fly out of the hole and over the snow at the end of the rope. He
followed to where Hugh sat on his horse by the cow, which lay on its
side, all tangled up in the rope. There John loosed the calf, which,
after a moment, staggered to its feet; and then Hugh, by a few jerks
on his rope, freed the cow, which got up and began to lick the calf.
Then, the two old men rode back to where the other cows stood in the
snow. Jack could not understand why the calf had not been choked to
death, nor how the cow had been tied, and then so suddenly untied. He
determined that he would watch. He hurried back to where the men were
breaking another path, but before he reached them they had roped the
cow and were dragging it over and through the snow. The cow bellowed
piteously, but moved along so steadily and fast that she could not
struggle. Jack drew out of the way to let them pass, and then rode up
to the hole, where he saw the little calf. This time he thought he
would try his hand; he threw his rope twice and at last it went over
the calf's head; then he very gently pulled it tight, and taking a
turn of the rope over the saddle-horn, turned and rode slowly toward
the others. He did not want to go fast, for he did not want to hurt
the calf. Before he had gone far he met John riding back. He called
to him: "Hurry! hurry! Ride more fast, else you're goin' kill 'im de
calf. You choke it 'im." Jack hurried on then, and stopped when he
was near Hugh, who, as before, was holding the tied cow. "Loose the
calf as quick as you can, son, and let it get up." Jack dismounted
and took the rope from the calf's neck, but it lay there perfectly
still.
"Oh, Hugh, I'm afraid I've killed it," said Jack.
Hugh dismounted quickly, leaving the horse standing with the rope
stretched tightly between the horn of the saddle and the cow, and
walked to the calf.
"You choked it too long," he said. "But I guess we can fix it." He
worked over the calf for a little while, and soon it began to breathe
again without any help.
"There! He's all right now; but the next time you snake a calf by the
neck, hurry him along. If you cut off his wind too long, he'll die on
you."
"Why, the reason I went slowly was that I didn't want to hurt it. If
Mr. Monroe hadn't told me to come faster, it would have been dead
before I got here."
"It sure would," said Hugh. "If you're handling cattle you have to be
quick about it often. It's easier on the critters, even if it does
look rough. There, that calf can stand now, I guess. Let's drag
it over to its mother and turn her loose. Now we've got to get the
others out. I expect old John'll wonder what's keeping us."
He took the calf by the fore legs and dragged it over the snow to
where its mother lay, then mounted his horse, and seeing that Jack
also had mounted, quickly freed the cow from the rope. When she
sprung to her feet, she ran to the calf and began to lick it, and
in a few moments it stood up. Meantime Jack and Hugh had gone back
and met John, who was slowly dragging a large cow over the snow.
She struggled and fought, and the little pony that John was riding
had his hands full to keep her moving in the right direction. As
soon as Hugh's rope fell over her horns, and the two horses began to
pull together, she moved swiftly and steadily along. Jack rode on to
get the calf. At first he thought there was none there, but looking
carefully he saw a foot and part of a leg sticking out from the snow
where the cow had been standing. He dismounted, and digging away the
snow, by pulling and pushing he brought to light a big strong calf,
which at once stood up. This time, Jack did not try to be tender with
the calf. He threw his rope over its head, took the turn of his rope
over the saddle-horn, pulled the calf up out of the snow pit and
then galloped back to where the cow lay. As soon as he cast the rope
off the calf, which this time he did without dismounting, the animal
stood up and bawled for its mother. Hugh turned her loose, and they
all went back for another cow. In this way they pulled out all the
cows and their calves, and before the middle of the day had started
back to the ranch.
The weather had become milder, and now the snow was melting a little.
"Might be such a thing, my son, as we'd find a coyote at some of
these baits. 'Tain't likely though. Still we'll go back the same way
we came."
"Snow on ground, maybe coyotes pretty hungry. Why you no make 'em
trap like H'ingin?" said John.
"Ain't wolves enough for it, and besides that, I don't believe I ever
thought of it before. Might be a good idea, though. Maybe I'll try it
next winter, if coyotes is anyways like as plenty as they are now.
Poison's no good any more."
"What kind of trap is that, Hugh?" asked Jack.
"Why, it's sorter like a pitfall trap that I've heard tell of. You
kill a bull, and all around him build up a kind of a fence of poles
close together, and all leaning toward each other at the top, where
you leave quite a hole. Then you pile up rocks and dirt around your
poles, so's to make a little mound for the wolves to walk on up to
the hole. If they're hungry enough they'll jump down into the hole to
get at the meat, but they can't jump out again because the hole is
too high up. They can't climb up the poles and they can't dig through
'em. So there you've got 'em."
"Long time ago," said John, "he catch 'im plenty big wolves, plenty
coyote that way, _les shauvages_. My grand'mère, when she was
little girl, 'bout as h'ole as Jacques, H'ingins not make it beaver,
not make it h'robes pour trade. H'only trade 'im wolf skin. Ver'
curieuse."
"Oh, Mr. Monroe," said Jack, "is that a coyote off there?"
"No, that sinopah--what you say it, Hugh?" was the reply.
"Kit fox is what I call him, some calls 'em swift. I've heard folks
say that they were the fastest thing that runs on the prairie, but
it ain't so, by a long shot. There's just plenty of swifter animals.
Still you can see easy enough where people get the idea that they run
so fast. They're mighty level-gaited and seem to sort o' glide along
instead of running. Just watch that fellow now and see how smooth he
runs.
"Hallo, Hugh," interrupted John, "you get it one coyote?"
"Well, looks like it, don't it?" said Hugh. The little wolf lay near
the block of wood, from the holes in which much of the tallow had
been licked. It was a pretty creature, about as large as a small
setter dog, yellowish grey in colour, and with thick heavy fur and a
bushy tail. Its sharp nose gave it a wise, cunning look.
"He been two of it here, Hugh," said John, whose eyes was constantly
wandering about over the snow. "Two coyote and sinopah."
"Yes; the other one's gone back along the trail to the ranch. They've
eat up all the scraps I scattered here. Well, I'll put this one on
the horse, and skin it at the house." Hugh thrust the coyote into one
of the sacks on the pack horse, and they went on.
A mile or two further along on the trail they found where the second
coyote had turned off toward the mountain, and both men said that
this one had probably not eaten any of the poisoned tallow. That
afternoon Hugh showed Jack how to skin a coyote.