THEODORE ROOSEVELT AS A RANCHMAN AND HUNTER IN THE BAD LANDS--BRINGING
DOWN HIS FIRST BUFFALO--RATTLESNAKES, AND A WILD GOOSE
Theodore Roosevelt had now published his "Naval History of the War of
1812," and it had created a decidedly favorable opinion among those
critics who were best able to judge of the production. It is an
authoritative work, and is to-day in the library of nearly every
American war-ship afloat, as well as in numerous government libraries in
this country, as at Washington, West Point, and Annapolis, and also in
leading libraries of England.
Being out of politics the young author thought of taking up his pen once
more. But he was restless by nature, and the loss of his wife and his
mother still weighed heavily upon him. So he took himself to the West,
to where the Little Missouri River flows in winding form through what
are called the Bad Lands of North Dakota.
Here, on the edge of the cattle country, Theodore Roosevelt had become
possessed of two ranches, one called the Elkhorn and the other Chimney
Butte. Both were located by the river, which during the dry season was
hardly of any depth at all, but which during the heavy rains, or during
the spring freshets, became a roaring torrent.
At one of these ranches Theodore Roosevelt settled down for the time
being, to rough it in hunting and raising cattle. When the weather would
not permit of his going abroad, or when the mood of the author seized
him, he wrote. As a result of these experiences he has given us a
delightful work called "The Hunting Trips of a Ranchman," first
published in 1885, giving his adventures among the cattle and while on
the hunt, sometimes alone and sometimes in company with the rude but
honest cow punchers and plainsmen who surrounded him.
Mr. Roosevelt has described the ranch at which he lived for the greater
part of his time as a long, low, story-high house of hewn logs, clean
and neat, and with many rooms. It faced the river, and in front was a
long, low veranda, where one might idle on a clear, warm day to his
heart's content. Inside, the main room contained a shelf full of the
owner's favorite outdoor books and the walls half-a-dozen pet pictures.
Rifles and shot-guns stood handy in corners, and on pegs and deer horns
hung overcoats of wolf or coon skin and gloves of otter or beaver.
That Theodore Roosevelt was a close observer of all that occurred around
him is proved by his writings. With great minuteness he has described
his life at the ranch home and while in the saddle, both in winter and
summer, telling of his experiences while rounding up cattle and while
bringing down waterfowl and larger game of various kinds. He likewise
describes the trained hunters he has met at different seasons of the
year, and tells of what they have done or were trying to do.
At this time his favorite horse was a steed called Manitou. But when on
a round-up of cattle, many ponies were taken along, so that a fresh
mount could be had at any time. It was a breezy, free life, and to it
our President undoubtedly owes the rugged constitution that he possesses
to-day.
His observations led him to make many investigations concerning the
smaller wild animals near his ranches and the larger beasts to be found
farther off. The tales which were told to him by other ranchmen and
hunters he always took "with a grain of salt," and he soon reached the
conclusion that many of the so-styled mighty hunters were only such in
name, and had brought down quantities of game only in years gone by when
such game was plentiful and could be laid low without much trouble. Once
when a man told him he had brought down a certain beast at four hundred
yards, Roosevelt measured the distance and found it to be less than half
that.
"You couldn't fool him on much," said one of the persons who met him
about that time. "He would take precious little for granted. He wanted
to know the how of everything, and he wasn't satisfied until he did
know."
Regarding his own powers as a hunter at that time, Mr. Roosevelt is very
modest. He says his eyesight was rather poor, and his hand not over
steady, so that "drawing a bead" on anything was not easy. Yet he went
into the sport with much enthusiasm, and if at times he came back at
nightfall empty-handed, he did not complain, and he was almost certain
to have something interesting to tell of what he had seen.
Theodore Roosevelt had been in this territory before, although not to
remain any great length of time. Once he had come out to hunt buffalo,
no easy thing to do, since this game was growing scarcer every day. He
had a guide named Ferris, who was not particularly struck with the
appearance of the pale young man, plainly dressed, whom he met at the
railroad station.
"I sized him up as not being able to endure a long trip after a
buffalo," said the guide, in speaking afterward of the meeting. "He was
well mounted, but he looked as if he might play out before the sun went
down."
But in this the guide was mistaken. Roosevelt proved that he could ride
as well as anybody. The first night out found the hunters about thirty
miles from any settlement. They went into camp on the open prairie,
tethering their horses with ropes fastened to their saddles, which they
used as pillows.
All went well for an hour or two, when the improvised pillow was jerked
from beneath Theodore Roosevelt's head, and he heard his horse bounding
away in the distance.
"Wolves!" cried the guide. "They have frightened our horses!"
So it proved; and the hunters lost no time in reaching for their
firearms. But the wolves kept their distance, and soon Theodore
Roosevelt was running after the horses, which, after a good deal of
trouble, he secured and brought back. After that the guide no longer
looked on him as a "tenderfoot."
"A tenderfoot," said he, "would have been scared to death. But Teddy
Roosevelt was as cool as a cucumber through it all--as if the happening
wasn't in the least out of the ordinary."
For several days the hunters remained on the prairie looking for
buffalo, but without success. They were on the point of turning back
when the guide noticed that the horses were growing uneasy.
"Some big game at hand," he announced. "Come on to yonder washout and
see if I am not right."
With great caution the hunters advanced to the washout the guide had
mentioned. Dismounting, they crept forward in the shelter of the
brushwood, and there, true enough, resting at his ease was a great
buffalo bull.
"Hit him where the patch of red shows on his side," whispered the guide,
and Roosevelt nodded to show that he understood. With care and coolness
he took aim and fired, and the buffalo bull leaped up and staggered
forward with the blood streaming from his mouth and nose.
"Shall I give him another?" was the question asked, but before it could
be answered the buffalo bull gave a plunge and fell dead.
Rattlesnakes are rather unpleasant reptiles to deal with, and Theodore
Roosevelt has shown his bravery by the way in which he speaks of them in
his accounts of outdoor life. He says to a man wearing alligator boots
there is little danger, for the fang of the reptile cannot go through
the leather, and the snake rarely strikes as high as one's knee. But he
had at least one experience with a rattlesnake not readily forgotten.
He was out on a hunt for antelope. The sage-brush in which he was
concealing himself was so low that he had to crawl along flat on his
breast, pushing himself forward with hands and feet as best he could.
He was almost on the antelope when he heard a warning whirr close at his
side, and glancing hastily in that direction, saw the reptile but a few
feet away, coiled up and ready to attack.
It was a thrilling and critical moment, and had the young hunter leaped
up he might have been dangerously if not fatally struck. But by instinct
he backed away silently and moved off in another direction through the
brush. The rattlesnake did not follow, although it kept its piercing
eyes on the hunter as long as possible. After the antelope stalk was
over, Roosevelt came back to the spot, made a careful search, and,
watching his chance, fired on the rattlesnake, killing it instantly.
In those days Theodore Roosevelt met Colonel William Cody, commonly
known as "Buffalo Bill," and many other celebrated characters of the
West. He never grew tired of listening to the stories these old
trappers, hunters, scouts, and plainsmen had to tell, and some of these
stories he afterward put into print, and they have made excellent
reading.
During many of his hunting expeditions at that time Theodore Roosevelt
was accompanied by his foreman, a good shot and all-round ranchman named
Merrifield. Merrifield had been in the West but five years, but the life
fitted him exactly, and in him Roosevelt the ranchman and hunter found a
companion exactly to his liking, fearless and self-reliant to the last
degree.
As perhaps most of my young readers know, wild geese are generally
brought down with a shot-gun, but in the Bad Lands it was not unusual to
bring them down with a rifle, provided the hunter was quick and accurate
enough in his aim. One morning, just before dawn, Theodore Roosevelt was
riding along the edge of a creek when he heard a cackling that he knew
must come from some geese, and he determined if possible to lay one low.
It was easy work to dismount and crawl to the edge of the creek. But a
fog lay over the water, and he could see the geese but indistinctly.
Leaving the creek bank, he ran silently to where the watercourse made a
turn and then crawled forward in the brush. Soon the fog lifted once
more, and he saw the geese resting on the water close to the bend. He
fired quickly and brought down the largest of the flock, while the
others lost no time in disappearing. It was a good fat goose and made
excellent eating.