nearly northwest, the eastern border of the buffalo’s range west of
the Mississippi was a line running very near the western extremity of
Lake Superior, up through the Lake of the Woods, west of Lake Winnipeg,
and thence northward to and beyond the Great Slave Lake. There this
border line turned to the west, and then sharply to the south, and
meeting the Rocky Mountains not far from where Peace River leaves
them, followed the range south, about to the 49th parallel; and then
turning southwestwardly and including Idaho, a part of eastern Oregon,
the northeast corner of Nevada, the greater portion of Utah, and most
of New Mexico, the line passed down south well into Mexico, turning
eastwardly just north of the 25th parallel of latitude, and running
north to the coast, which it followed around again to the mouth of the
Mississippi.
As it has been known in our day, the buffalo in the southern portion
of its range was a trans-Missouri animal. North of the parallel of 45
degrees it was found in equal numbers on both sides of the Missouri
River, and in its northern extension reached, and possibly even to-day
reaches, north to Great Slave Lake; for, as already stated, the only
considerable band of wild buffalo to-day is the wood bison of the
north, estimated to number four hundred or five hundred.
Besides the boundaries thus set forth, it is probable that in early
days there was a considerable extension of the buffalo’s range
northward and westward, into portions of what is now Alaska. Certain
it is that in that territory buffalo remains have been found in great
numbers. Some of these skulls belong to species long extinct, and much
larger than the American bison; but, on the other hand, there are many
which are closely similar to that species.
The range of the buffalo to the west of the Rocky Mountains began to
contract not very long after the narrowing of its range on the east.
The earlier explorers in the West, from Pike downward, report buffalo
in abundance. Yet, as already stated, the westernmost point at which
their remains have been found is among the foot-hills of the eastern
side of the Blue Mountains of Oregon. In 1836, it is reported, buffalo
were abundant in Salt Lake Valley, but there nearly all were soon
afterward destroyed by deep snows, which covered the ground for a long
period of time. This corresponds well with statements made to me by
John Robinson, better known in early days as Uncle Jack Robinson, one
of the old-time trappers, who died between 1870 and 1880. In 1870 he
told me that the buffalo on the tributaries of the Green River and on
the Laramie Plains had all perished nearly forty years before, during
a winter when very deep snows fell, followed by a thaw and subsequent
cold, which crusted the snow so that the buffalo could not get through
it, and starved to death. This statement was confirmed by the small
number of remains, most of them extremely old and weathered, which
we found in this region at that time. On the other hand, on upper
tributaries of the Green River buffalo were found much later, and it
is possible that these may have been animals which wintered in narrow
valleys of the mountains, where, during this deep snow, food was
accessible. Fremont states that in the spring of 1824 buffalo were
abundant as far west as Fort Hall, while Bonneville reported them in
extraordinary abundance in the Bear River Valley.
The mere fact that buffalo were not seen by an explorer who passed
through any given territory does not necessarily show that they did
not range in that country. I have travelled for months through a
buffalo range without seeing buffalo or any evidence of their very
recent presence, yet the signs found showed conclusively that a short
time before they had been there in vast numbers. It would have been
perfectly possible for two honest reports, made a few months or years
apart by explorers who were not prairie men, absolutely to contradict
each other.
Although the buffalo disappeared from the country west of the Green
River, and even from the Laramie Plains, a long time ago, it lingered
much later on tributaries of the Platte River further to the northward.
There were buffalo on the Sweetwater and its tributaries between 1870
and 1880, and on certain other tributaries of the North Platte River
between 1880 and 1890. About this same time there was a small band
ranging in what is called the Red Desert Country, south of what is now
the National Park. But the last of these disappeared about 1890.
The color of the buffalo is well understood to be a dark liver brown
over most of the body, changing to black on the long hair of the fore
legs, muzzle, and beard. The long hair on the hump is yellowish, faded
from sunburn, and often much the color of the hair of a “tow-headed
child.” The mountain bison, which lives largely in the timber, and is
scarcely or not at all exposed to the sun, is much darker, sometimes
almost black, throughout.
Very rarely buffalo of unusual color were seen. These were sometimes
roan, sometimes gray or spotted with white, or even pure white
throughout. A hide taken on the upper Missouri about 1879 was white on
the head, legs, and belly, and elsewhere of normal color; the result
was that when the animal was skinned and the hide tanned there was a
fine robe of the ordinary color bordered with a wide band of white. If
I recollect aright, this particular hide was sold on the river to an
Englishman for $500.
Buffalo of unusual color, being so seldom seen, were regarded by the
Indians with great reverence. Among the plains tribes, the buffalo,
on which they depended for food, shelter, and clothing, was sacred.
Its skull was usually placed on the ground near the sweat lodge,
prayers were made, and the pipe was offered to it, in a petition to
the buffalo to remain with them, to be abundant, and even to run over
smooth ground, so that their horses should not fall during the chase.
If buffalo in general were sacred, how much more should the white one
receive reverence. The Pawnees cherished their skins as sacred objects,
and kept them in their medicine bundles, or used them to wrap about
these bundles. The Blackfeet regarded white buffalo as especially
dedicated to the Sun, and hung up the white robe as a votive offering
to that deity. In the same way, the Cheyennes, in old times, sacrificed
the hide of a white buffalo to the Sun, although later, after their
habits had been measurably changed by contact with the whites, they
sometimes sold such robes.
My friend George Bent--son of Col. William Bent, one of the historic
characters of the early West--tells me that during a long course of
trading among the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, he has seen but five robes
that could fairly be called white. One of these was silver-gray,
another, white, a third, cream color, the fourth, dapple gray, and the
fifth, yellowish fawn color. He tells me that in ancient times the
white buffalo was regarded by the Cheyennes as sacred, and that, if
one of them killed a white buffalo, he left it where it fell, taking
nothing from it, and not even putting a knife into it. The Cheyennes
believe that any white buffalo belongs far to the north, and comes from
that region where, according to their tradition, the buffalo originally
came out of the ground.
A great many years ago a war party of Cheyennes went up north against
the Crows. One day they came to a hill, and when they looked over it
they saw before them great herds of buffalo lying down, and among them
a cow, perfectly white. When the buffalo stood up to go to water, the
white cow also stood up, and went with them, and it was observed that
none of the other buffalo went very close to her. They did not appear
to fear her, but they did not crowd close about her; they gave her
plenty of room, as if they respected her. This led the Cheyennes to
think that the white buffalo was a chief among other buffalo.
The women of the Cheyennes did not dress a white buffalo’s hide. When
occasion arose for such work, it was commonly done by some captive
woman; for example, a Kiowa, or a Pawnee,--some one who was not bound
by Cheyenne customs and Cheyenne fears. Rarely, a Cheyenne woman went
through a certain ceremony, being prayed over by a medicine-man, and
painted in a peculiar fashion; this ceremony removed the tabu, and she
might then dress the white robe.
The habits of the buffalo were in most respects those of domestic
cattle. They fed in loose herds as cattle do, the members of a
family--that is to say, the old cow and her progeny, sometimes up to
three or four years old--keeping together; the old bulls, lazier,
heavier, and less active than the cows and the younger stock, were
usually on the outskirts of the herd, and if it was slowly moving
in any direction, were likely to be behind. Much has been written
concerning the intelligence of the buffalo, and the manner in which
the bulls stood sentry over the herd, constantly on the watch for
danger. There is not and never was any foundation for these stories,
which were mere creations of the writer’s imagination. As a matter of
fact, the cows were much more alert and watchful than the bulls, were
always the first to detect danger and to move away from it, while the
bulls were dull and slow, and often did not start to run until the herd
at large was in full flight. Moreover, the cows and younger animals of
the herd were much swifter than the bulls, and so pressed constantly
to the front, while the bulls brought up the rear. The disposition
of the males had nothing to do with any desire to protect the herd,
but resulted from the fact that they were slower than the others. The
earlier writers on the habits of these and other animals, credited
them with human motives and aspirations, which of course they do not
possess. A somewhat similar fashion of writing about animals is current
at the present day, but is false and unnatural, and will pass.
The hides of the buffalo are in their best condition in the early part
of the winter, and it was the practice of the Indians to collect their
robes at that time of the year,--namely, between November and January.
Soon after January, however, the hair begins to grow loose, and it is
shed during the spring and early summer, though often great patches
cling to the body until late summer or early fall. I have seen buffalo
in the month of July still clad in what looked like a loose robe, the
old hair hanging together in an almost complete mat, covering the body.
Usually, however, by rubbing against trees, rocks, and banks of dirt,
and by rolling on the prairie, the loose hair is got rid of by early
summer. In very old animals the moult takes place later and less easily
than in those in good condition, and sometimes old and lean buffalo do
not seem to shed their coats completely.
The rutting season begins in July and lasts about two months. During
this time frequent battles take place among the bulls, apparently
fierce on account of the size and activity of the combatants, but
usually without important results. These fights are much like similar
contests between domestic bulls; they paw up the ground, kneel down and
thrust their horns into the earth, mutter and bellow and grunt; but
although they charge on each other with fury, and come together with a
tremendous shock, the contest usually ends in nothing more important
than the driving off, for a time, of the weaker bull. From their great
activity at this season, the bulls rapidly lose flesh; but after the
rut is over, they regain it, so that by the beginning of the cold
weather they, like the cows, are fat and in good order.
The buffalo cow produces, usually, a single calf, which may be born
during the months of March, April, May, or June. The usual time for the
calves to be born is in April and May. Shortly before that time the
mother separates herself from the herd, which, however, she rejoins not
long after the birth of the calf. Like many other ruminants, the mother
hides her calf when it is small and weak, but does not wander far from
it. After it has gained some strength it joins other calves, and these
usually keep together a little apart from the main herd, their mothers
coming to them from time to time in order that they may nurse.
When first born, the calves are reddish yellow in color, do not possess
any noticeable hump, and look very much like ordinary domestic calves,
except that possibly the tail is slightly shorter. Before very long,
however, they commence to grow darker in color, and I have seen calves
in August that at a little distance seemed almost as dark as the adult
buffalo.
The cow is devoted to her calf, and is ready to fight for it against
any enemy except man. Usually, in the buffalo chase, the cow,
thoroughly frightened, paid no attention to the calf. But, on the other
hand, cases have occurred, where men have been capturing calves to
rear in captivity, in which the cow refused to desert her offspring,
but turned upon the captor of the calf and charged him with the utmost
boldness.
Colonel Dodge instances a case where a number of bulls devoted
themselves to protecting a calf against wolves. He says, “I have seen
evidence of this many times, but the most remarkable instance I 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 actions 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 downward, while in a concentric circle,
at some twelve or fifteen paces distant, sat, licking their chops in
impatient expectancy, at least a dozen large gray wolves--except man,
the most dangerous enemy of the buffalo. The doctor determined to watch
the performance. After a few moments the knot broke up, still keeping
in a compact mass, and started on a trot for the main herd some half
mile off. To his very great astonishment, the doctor now saw that the
central and controlling figure of this mass was a poor little calf, so
newly born as scarcely to be able to walk. After going fifty or one
hundred yards, the calf lay down; the bulls disposed themselves in a
circle as before, and the wolves, who had trotted along on each flank
of their retreating supper, sat down and licked their chops again. This
was repeated again and again, and although the doctor did not see the
finale (it being late and the camp distant), he had no doubt that the
noble fathers did their whole duty by their offspring, and carried it
safely to the herd.”
We may imagine that this was an unusual occurrence; at the same time,
it is true that a group of buffalo, if one of their number is attacked
or threatened by wolves while they are close together, will all rally
to the general defence, and will stand by each other. But that the
bulls make it their business to defend calves, or systematically
preserve anything except their own skins, I do not believe.
Few people who have seen the buffalo only in captivity, few even of
those who have hunted them on the level plains, have any idea of the
agility of this clumsy, heavy creature, or of the disposition that it
shows to reach elevated points, so difficult of access that a horse
might find it a hard matter to climb them. In old times, one might
see buffalo ascending steeps that were nearly vertical; or, on the
other hand, throwing themselves down the sides of mountains so sharply
sloping and rough that a horseman would not dare follow them. Like many
other animals, wild and tame, they often liked to seek elevated points
from which a wide view might be had, and I have found their tracks and
other signs on points high up in the mountains, where only sheep or
goats would be looked for. The mountain bison, so-called--and by many
hunters regarded as a species quite distinct from the buffalo of the
plains--was especially given to frequenting the peaks in summer; no
doubt in part to avoid the attacks of flies, but also in part--as I
believe--from sheer love of climbing.
Like most other herbivorous animals, the buffalo was subject to panics,
and was easily stampeded, and when thoroughly frightened, a herd ran
for a long way before stopping. When alarmed, they huddled together
as closely as possible, running in a dense mass. The result of this
was that only the animals on the outskirts of the herd could see where
they were going; those in the centre blindly followed their leaders
and depended on them. This very fact was a source of danger, for the
leaders, crowded upon by those that followed, even if they saw peril
in front of them, could not stop, and often could not even turn aside,
but were constantly forced on to a danger that they would gladly have
avoided. This is the entirely simple explanation of a characteristic
often wondered at by writers about this species; that is, their habit
of running headlong into danger,--plunging over cut banks into the
pens prepared for them by the Indians, or rushing into quicksands or
places where they mired down, or into deep water, which might have well
been avoided, or even up against such obstacles as a train of cars or
a steamboat in the river. The simple fact is that the animals which
saw the danger were unable to avoid it on account of the pressure from
behind, and those that were pressing the leaders on were ignorant of
the danger toward which they were rushing.
I have already adverted to the popular but erroneous belief that the
buffalo performed extensive migrations in spring and fall. This is
not true. There were, unquestionably, certain seasonal movements east
and west, and north and south, yet these movements were never very
extended, and constituted nothing more than the very general shiftings
which are made by many ruminants between a summer and a winter range.
Throughout the country lying between the Saskatchewan and the Missouri
River, the buffalo, in summer, moved up close to the mountains and even
into the foot-hills; and at the coming of winter, with its snows and
its bitter winds, they moved to the eastward again, seeking the lower
ground and such shelter as the ravines and buttes and timbered river
valleys of the prairie might afford.
On the other hand, buffalo, in their journeys to water, usually
travelled to the nearest streams, and as on the plains the streams
usually run from west to east, and the buffalo travelled in single
file, their trails ran at right angles to the course of the rivers,
or north and south. It is quite possible that the directions of these
trails, deeply worn, and showing the passage of great numbers of
animals, may have given rise to the popular belief in this north and
south migration.
At the same time, it is true that the buffalo herds were more or less
constantly in motion. As they were very numerous, it was obviously
essential that they should move constantly, to reach fresh grazing
grounds. Often, too, they were disturbed by hunters, red or white, who
stampeded the herds, which then rushed off in a close mass, perhaps not
to stop for ten or a dozen miles. Besides that, frequently, the prairie
was burned, so that they were deprived of food, and long journeys must
be made to reach fresh grazing grounds.
[Illustration: PROTECTED]
Not very much is known, and very much less has been written concerning
the tendency in animals, wild and domestic, to confine themselves
to particular localities; yet all people who live much out of doors
understand, even though they may not reason much about it, how very
local in habit many birds and animals are. The ranchman, of course,
knows that the horses and cattle which feed on his range divide
themselves up into little bunches, each of which selects some special
area where they spend all their time, rarely moving far from it, except
to make journeys to water; or, at some change of the seasons, to
migrate from summer to winter range or back again. In domestic stock
this attachment to locality is strongly marked, and it is a common
thing for animals that have been driven to a range hundreds of miles
distant from that on which they have been accustomed to feed, to travel
back toward their old haunts as soon as they are turned loose. I have
known cases where one-third of a large bunch of horses, driven to a new
range four or five hundred miles away, were a year later gathered again
on their old home range. It is a matter of common experience for horses
that escape from owners, travelling at a distance from the home range,
to take the back trail and return to it.
Among our larger game animals a similar condition of things prevails.
White-tail deer are greatly attached to particular localities, and when
undisturbed, confine their wanderings within very narrow limits. Even
if thoroughly frightened, and driven to a considerable distance, they
soon return. If an old white-tail buck is run with dogs, he may make a
long chase, and cover a wide stretch of country, but to-morrow he will
probably be found in his old home. In the same way, mule deer, mountain
sheep, white goats, and antelope show their attachment for localities,
and unless persistently disturbed, wander but little.
The same thing is true with regard to non-migratory birds. Ruffed
grouse attach themselves to certain pieces of woodland, or to
particular swamps, and the birds may be found there all through the
season. In like manner, quail establish themselves on certain small
pieces of ground, and after their haunts have been learned, may be
started there with unfailing regularity.
During many years’ experience with big game, I have often had these
facts thrust on my attention, and have seen much to warrant the belief
that, like other wild animals, the buffalo feels attachment for a
particular range of country, which it does not desert except for good
reason, or when the change from summer to winter, or back again, leads
to a migration that may fairly be called seasonal. The buffalo’s
attachment to locality, and its natural inertia, is well exemplified
by an experience of Major G. W. H. Stouch, U.S.A., retired, a veteran
soldier of more than thirty-five years’ experience on the plains, of
which he told me many years ago. I give it as nearly as possible in his
own words:--
“In the fall of 1866 I was directed to proceed with Company C, Third
Infantry, to reëstablish old Fort Fletcher on the north fork of Big
Creek, sixteen miles below the present Fort Hays, Kansas. When on
October 16th we marched down to the site chosen, and went into camp,
I noticed half a mile above us on the creek bottom a considerable
herd of buffalo feeding; there were perhaps eight or nine hundred of
them. As soon as I saw them, it occurred to me that I would leave them
undisturbed, and that so long as they remained there they might furnish
us a supply of beef at very little cost of time or trouble. I therefore
ordered the men not to hunt up the creek, or disturb these buffalo in
any way, instructing them to do all their hunting down the stream.
“In order to put my idea in practice at once, I detailed one of the
soldiers as hunter and butcher of the company, and told him to go up
the creek and kill a buffalo, but not to show himself either before
or after firing the shot--merely to kill a fat cow and then to remain
under cover until I joined him with a wagon. He did so. At the report
of the rifle the buffalo fired at ran a few steps, and then lay down,
while those nearest to it made a few jumps, looked around, saw no one,
and then went on feeding. From the camp we were watching the result
of the shot, and as soon as fired, I went with a wagon to bring in
the meat. As the wagon approached the carcass, the nearest buffalo
moved out of the way, without showing any special fear, and the wagon
returned to camp with its load. This was repeated daily, the buffalo
never being frightened either by the shot or the wagon, and seeming
to become more tame as time went on, often approaching within a few
hundred yards of where we were at work erecting the buildings.
“About November 1st, Troop E, Seventh Cavalry (under Lieutenant
Wheelan) arrived to reinforce the post; and about November 19th Company
B, Thirty-seventh Infantry (under Lieutenant Phelps) also arrived. I
explained my plan of operation to these officers, and requested them
to detail hunters from their companies, and to order their men to hunt
down the creek, and not to disturb what I had come to regard as the
post beef herd. They did so, and the herd still remained with us.
“One morning in February, ’67, a sergeant, whom I had sent the day
before with a small detail to make a scout, rapped at my door, and
reported his return. Among other things, he said: ‘Lieutenant, I met
our buffalo herd travelling up the creek, about fifteen miles from
here. They were moving slowly; just feeding along.’