During our next day's journey we fell in with and killed a couple of
deer--a young buck and doe. They were the first of these animals we had
yet seen, and that was considered strange, as we had passed through a
deer country. They were of the species common to all parts of the
United States' territory--the "red" or "fallow" deer (_Cervus
Virginianus_). It may be here remarked that the common deer of the
United States, sometimes called "red deer," is the fallow deer of
English parks, that the "elk" of America is the red deer of Europe, and
the "elk" of Europe is the "moose" of America. Many mistakes are made
in relation to this family of animals on account of these misapplied
names.
In North America there are six well-defined species of deer--the moose
(_Cervus alces_); the elk (_Cervus Canadensis_); the caribou
(_tarandus_); the black-tail or "mule" deer (_macrotis_); the long-tail
(_leucurus_); and the Virginian, or fallow deer (_Virginianus_). The
deer of Louisiana (_Cervus nemoralis_) is supposed by some to be a
different species from any of the above; so also is the "mazama" of
Mexico (_Cervus Mexicanus_). It is more probable that these two kinds
are only varieties of the _Genus Virginianus_--the difference in colour,
and other respects, resulting from a difference in food, climate, and
such like causes.
It is probable, too, that a small species of deer exists in the Russian
possessions west of the Rocky Mountains, quite distinct from any of the
six mentioned above; but so little is yet known of the natural history
of these wild territories, that this can only be taken as conjecture.
It may be remarked, also that of the caribou (_Cervus tarandus_) there
are two marked varieties, that may almost be regarded in the light of
species. One, the larger, is known as the "woodland caribou," because
it inhabits the more southern and wooded districts of the Hudson's Bay
territory; the other, the "barren ground caribou," is the "reindeer" of
the Arctic voyagers.
Of the six well-ascertained species, the last-mentioned (_Cervus
Virginianus_) has the largest geographical range, and is the most
generally known. Indeed, when the word "deer" is mentioned, it only is
meant. It is the deer of the United States.
The "black-tails" and "long-tails" are two species that may be called
new. Though long known to trappers and hunters, they have been but
lately described by the scientific naturalist. Their _habitat_ is the
"far west" in California, Oregon, the high prairies, and the valleys of
the Rocky Mountains. Up to a late period naturalists have had but
little to do with these countries. For this reason their _fauna_ has so
long remained comparatively unknown.
The geographical disposition of the other four species is curious. Each
occupies a latitudinal zone. That of the caribou, or rein deer, extends
farthest north. It is not found within the limits of the United States.
The zone of the moose overlaps that of the caribou, but, on the other
side, goes farther south, as this species is met with along the extreme
northern parts of the United States.
The elk is next in order. His range "dovetails" into that of the moose,
but the elk roves still farther into the temperate regions, being met
with almost as far south as Texas.
The fourth, the common deer, embraces in his range the temperate and
torrid zones of both North and South America, while he is not found in
higher latitudes than the southern frontier of Canada.
The common deer, therefore, inhabits a greater area than any of his
congeners, and is altogether the best-known animal of his kind. Most
persons know him by sight. He is the smallest of the American species,
being generally about five feet in length by three in height, and a
little more than 100 pounds in weight. He is exceedingly well formed
and graceful; his horns are not so large as those of the stag, but, like
his, they are annually caducous, falling off in the winter and returning
in the spring. They are rounded below, but in the upper part slightly
flattened or palmated. The antlers do not rise upward, but protrude
forward over the brow in a threatening manner. There is no regular
rule, however, for their shape and "set," and their number also varies
in different individuals. The horns are also present only in the male
or buck; the doe is without them. They rise from a rough bony
protuberance on the forehead, called the "burr." In the first year they
grow in the shape of two short straight spikes; hence the name
"spike-bucks" given to the animals of that age. In the second season a
small antler appears on each horn, and the number increases until the
fourth year, when they obtain a full head-dress of "branching honours."
The antlers, or, as they are sometimes called, "points," often increase
in number with the age of the animal, until as many as fifteen make
their appearance. This, however, is rare. Indeed, the food of the
animal has much to do with the growth of his horns. In an ill-fed
specimen they do not grow to such size, nor branch so luxuriantly as in
a well-fed fat buck.
We have said that the horns fall annually. This takes place in winter--
in December and January. They are rarely found, however, as they are
soon eaten up by the small-gnawing animals.
The new horns begin to grow as soon as the old ones have dropped off.
During the spring and summer they are covered with a soft velvety
membrane, and they are then described as being "in the velvet." The
blood circulates freely through this membrane, and it is highly
sensitive, so that a blow upon the horns at this season produces great
pain. By the time the "rutting" season commences (in October), the
velvet has peeled off, and the horns are then in order for battle--and
they need be, for the battles of the bucks during this period are
terrible indeed.--Frequently their horns get "locked" in such conflicts,
and, being unable to separate them, the combatants remain in this
situation until both perish by hunger, or fall a prey to their natural
enemy--the wolf. Many pairs of horns have been found in the forest thus
locked together, and there is not a museum in America without this
singular souvenir of mutual destruction!
The hair of the American deer is thickly set and smooth on the surface.
In winter it grows longer and is of a greyish hue; the deer is then,
according to hunter phraseology, "in the grey." In the summer a new
coat is obtained, which is reddish, or calf-coloured. The deer is then
"in the red." Towards the end of August, or in autumn, the whole coat
has a blue tinge. This is called "in the blue." At all times the
animal is of a whitish appearance on the throat and belly and insides of
the legs. The skin is toughest when "in the red," thickest "in the
blue," and thinnest "in the grey." In the blue it makes the best
buckskin, and is, therefore, most valuable when obtained in autumn.
The fawns of this species are beautiful little creatures; they are
fawn-coloured, and showered all over with white spots which disappear
towards the end of their first summer, when they gradually get into the
winter grey.
The American deer is a valuable animal. Much of the buckskin of
commerce is the product of its hides, and the horns are put to many
uses. Its flesh, besides supplying the tables of the wealthy, has been
for centuries almost the whole sustenance of whole nations of Indians.
Its skins have furnished them with tents, beds, and clothing; its
intestines with bowstrings, ball "raquets," and snow-shoes; and in the
chase of this creature they have found almost their sole occupation as
well as amusement.
With so many enemies, it is a matter of wonder that this species has not
long been extirpated; not only has man been its constant and persevering
destroyer, but it has a host of enemies besides, in the cougar, the
lynxes, the wolverine, and the wolves.
The last are its worst foes. Hunters state that for one deer killed by
themselves, five fall a prey to the wolves. These attack the young and
feeble, and soon run them down. The old deer can escape from a wolf by
superior speed; but in remote districts, where the wolves are numerous,
they unite in packs of eight or ten, and follow the deer as hounds do,
and even with a somewhat similar howling. They run by the nose, and
unless the deer can reach water, and thus escape them, they will tire it
down in the end.
Frequently the deer, when thus followed in winter, makes for the ice,
upon which he is soon overtaken by his hungry pursuers.
Notwithstanding all this, the American deer is still common in most of
the States, and in some of them even plentiful. Where the wolves have
been thinned off by "bounty" laws, and the deer protected during the
breeding season by legislative enactments, as is the case in New York,
their number is said to be on the increase. The markets of all the
great cities in America are supplied with venison almost as cheap as
beef, which shows that the deer are yet far from being scarce.
The habits of this creature are well-known. It is gregarious in its
natural _habitat_. The herd is usually led by an old buck, who watches
over the safety of the others while feeding. When an enemy approaches,
this sentinel and leader strikes the ground sharply with his hoofs,
snorts loudly, and emits a shrill whistle; all the while fronting the
danger with his horns set forward in a threatening manner. So long as
he does not attempt to run, the others continue to browse with
confidence; but the moment their leader starts to fly, all the rest
follow, each trying to be foremost.
They are timid upon ordinary occasions, but the bucks in the rutting
season are bold, and when wounded and brought "to bay," are not to be
approached with impunity. They can inflict terrible blows, both with
their hoofs and antlers; and hunters who have come too near them on such
occasions have with difficulty escaped being gored to death.
They are foes to the snake tribe, and kill the most venomous serpents
without being bitten. The rattle-snake hides from their attack. Their
mode of destroying these creatures is similar to that employed by the
peccary (_dicotyles_): that is, by pouncing down upon them with the four
hoofs held close together, and thus crushing them to death. The
hostility of the peccary to snakes is easily understood, as no sooner
has it killed one than it makes a meal of it. With the deer, of course,
such is not the case, as they are not carnivorous. Its enmity to the
reptile race can be explained only by supposing that it possesses a
knowledge of their dangerous qualities, and thinks they should therefore
be got rid of.
The food of the American deer consists of twigs, leaves of trees, and
grass. They are fonder of the tree-shoots than the grass; but their
favourite morsels are the buds and flowers of _nymphae_, especially
those of the common pond-lily. To get these, they wade into the lakes
and rivers like the moose, and, like them, are good swimmers.
They love the shady forest better than the open ground, and they haunt
the neighbourhood of streams. These afford them protection, as well as
a means of quenching thirst. When pursued, their first thought is to
make for water, in order to elude the pursuer, which they often succeed
in doing, throwing both dogs and wolves off the scent. In summer, they
seek the water to cool themselves, and get free from flies and
mosquitoes, that pester them sadly.
They are fond of salt, and repair in great numbers to the salines, or
salt springs, that abound in all parts of America. At these they lick
up quantities of earth along with the salt efflorescence, until vast
hollows are formed in the earth, termed, from this circumstance, salt
"licks." The consequence of this "dirt-eating" is, that the excrement
of the animal comes forth in hard pellets; and by seeing this, the
hunters can always tell when they are in the neighbourhood of a "lick."
The does produce in spring--in May or June, according to the latitude.
They bring forth one, two, and very rarely three fawns at a birth.
Their attachment to their young is proverbial. The mothers treat them
with the greatest tenderness, and hide them while they go to feed. The
bleating of the fawn at once recalls the mother to its side. The hunter
often imitates this with success, using either his own voice, or a
"call," made out of a cane-joint. An anecdote, told by Parry,
illustrates this maternal fondness:--"The mother, finding her young one
could not swim as fast as herself, was observed to stop repeatedly, so
as to allow, the fawn to come up with her; and, having landed first,
stood watching it with trembling anxiety as the boat chased it to the
shore. She was repeatedly fired at, but remained immovable, until her
offspring landed in safety, when they both cantered out of sight." The
deer to which Parry refers is the small "caribou;" but a similar
affection exists between the mother and fawns of the common deer.
The American deer is hunted for its flesh, its hide, and "the sport."
There are many modes of hunting it. The simplest and most common is
that which is termed "still" hunting. In this, the hunter is armed with
his rifle or deer-gun--a heavy fowling-piece--and steals forward upon
the deer, as he would upon any other game. "Cover" is not so necessary
as silence in such a hunt. This deer, like some antelopes, is of a
"curious" disposition, and will sometimes allow the hunter to approach
in full view without attempting to run off. But the slightest noise,
such as the rustling of dry leaves, or the snapping of a stick, will
alarm him. His sense of hearing is extremely acute. His nose, too, is
a keen one, and he often scents the hunter, and makes off long before
the latter has got within sight or range. It is necessary in "still"
hunting to leave the dog at home; unless, indeed, he be an animal
trained to the purpose.
Another species of hunting is "trailing" the deer in snow. This is done
either with dogs or without them. The snow must be frozen over, so as
to cut the feet of the deer, which puts them in such a state of fear and
pain, that the hunter can easily get within shot. I have assisted in
killing twenty in a single morning in this way; and that, too, in a
district where deer were not accounted plentiful.
The "drive" is the most exciting mode of hunting deer; and the one
practised by those who hunt for "the sport." This is done with hounds,
and the horsemen who follow them also carry guns. In fact, there is
hardly a species of hunting in America in which fire-arms are not used.
Several individuals are required to make up a "deer drive." They are
generally men who know the "lay" of the country, with all its ravines
and passes. One or two only accompany the hounds as "drivers," while
the rest get between the place where the dogs are beating the cover and
some river towards which it is "calculated" the startled game will run.
They deploy themselves into a long line, which sometimes extends for
miles through the forest. Each, as he arrives at his station, or
"stand," as it is called, dismounts, ties his horse in a thicket, and
takes his stand, "covering" himself behind a log or tree. The stands
are selected with reference to the configuration of the ground, or by
paths which the deer are accustomed to take; and as soon as all have so
arranged themselves, the dogs at a distant point are set loose, and the
"drive" begins.
The "stand men" remain quiet, with their guns in readiness. The barking
of the dogs, afar off through the woods, usually admonishes them when a
deer has been "put up;" and they watch with eager expectation, each one
hoping that the game may come his way.
Hours are sometimes passed without the hunter either seeing or hearing a
living thing but himself and his horse; and many a day he returns home
from such a "chase" without having had the slightest glimpse of either
buck, doe, or fawn.
This is discouraging; but at other times he is rewarded for his patient
watching. A buck comes bounding forward, the hounds after him in full
cry. At intervals he stops, and throws himself back on his haunches
like a halted hare. His eyes are protruded, and watching backward. His
beautiful neck is swollen with fear and rage, and his branching antlers
tower high in the air. Again he springs forward, and approaches the
silent hunter, who, with a beating heart, holds his piece in the
attitude of "ready." He makes another of his pauses. The gun is
levelled, the trigger pulled; the bullet speeds forth, and strikes into
his broad chest, causing him to leap upward in the spasmodic effort of
death.
The excitement of a scene like this rewards the hunter for his long and
lonely vigil.
"Torch-hunting," or "fire-hunting," as it is sometimes termed, is
another method of capturing the fallow deer. It is done by carrying a
torch in a very dark night through woods where deer are known to
frequent. The torch is made of pine-knots, well dried. They are not
tied in bunches, as represented by some writers, but carried in a vessel
of hard metal. A frying-pan with a long handle, as already stated, is
best for the purpose.
The "knots" are kindled within the pan, and, if good ones, yield a blaze
that will light the woods for a hundred yards around. The deer seeing
this strange object, and impelled by curiosity, approaches within range;
and the "glance" of his eyes, like two burning coals, betrays him to the
hunter, who with his deadly rifle "sights" between the shining orbs and
fire.
While we were on the subject of torch-hunting the doctor took up the
cue, and gave us an account of a torch-hunt he had made in Tennessee.
"I will tell you of a `torch-hunt,'" said he, "of which _pars magna
fui_, and which ended with a `catastrophe.' It took place in Tennessee,
where I was for a while sojourning. I am not much of a hunter, as you
all know; but happening to reside in a `settlement,' where there were
some celebrated hunters, and in the neighbourhood of which was an
abundance of game, I was getting very fond of it. I had heard, among
other things, of this `torch-hunting,'--in fact, had read many
interesting descriptions of it, but I had never witnessed the sport
myself; and was therefore eager, above all things, to join in a
torch-hunt.
"The opportunity at length offered. A party was made up to go hunting,
of which I was one.
"There were six of us in all; but it was arranged that we should
separate into three pairs, each taking its own torch and a separate
course through the woods. In each pair one was to carry the light,
while the other managed the `shooting iron.' We were all to meet at an
appointed rendezvous when the hunt was over.
"These preliminaries being arranged, and the torches made ready, we
separated. My partner and I soon plunged into the deep forest.
"The night was dark as pitch--dark nights are the best--and when we
entered the woods we had to grope our way. Of course, we had not yet
set fire to our torch, as we had not reached the place frequented by the
deer.
"My companion was an old hunter, and by right should have carried the
gun; but it was arranged differently, out of compliment to me--the
stranger, he held in one hand the huge frying-pan, while in a bag over
his shoulder was a bushel or more of dry pine-knots.
"On arriving at the place where it was expected deer would be found, we
set fire to our torch, and in a few moments the blaze threw its glaring
circle around us, painting with vermilion tints the trunks of the great
trees.
"In this way we proceeded onward, advancing slowly, and with as little
noise as possible. We talked only in whispers, keeping our eyes turned
upon all sides at once. But we walked and walked, up hill and down
hill, for, I should say, ten miles at the least; and not a single pair
of bright orbs answered to our luminary. Not a deer's eye reflected the
blaze of our torch.
"We had kept the fire replenished and burning vividly to no purpose,
until hardly a knot remained in the bag.
"I had grown quite tired in this fruitless search. So had my companion,
and both of us felt chagrin and disappointment. We felt this the more
keenly as there had been a `supper-wager' laid between us and our
friends, as to what party would kill the greatest number of deer, and we
fancied once or twice that we heard shots far off in the direction the
others had gone. We were likely to come back empty-handed, while they,
no doubt, would bring a deer each, perhaps more.
"We were returning towards the point from which we had started, both of
us in a most unamiable mood, when all at once an object right before us
attracted my attention, and brought me to a sudden halt. I did not wait
to ask any questions. A pair of small round circles glistened in the
darkness like two little discs of fire. Of course they were eyes. Of
course, they were the eyes of a deer.
"I could see no body, for the two luminous objects shone as if set in a
ground of ebony. But I did not stay to scan in what they were set. My
piece was up. I glanced hastily along the barrel. I sighted between
the eyes. I pulled the trigger. I fired.
"As I did so, I fancied that I heard my companion shouting to me, but
the report hindered me from hearing what he said.
"When the echoes died away, however, his voice reached me, in a full,
clear tone, pronouncing these words:--
"`Tarnation, doctor! You've shot Squire Robbins's bull!'
"At the same time the bellowing of the bull, mingling with his own loud
laugh, convinced me that the hunter had spoken the truth.
"He was a good old fellow, and promised to keep dark; but it was
necessary to make all right with `Squire Robbins.' So the affair soon
got wind, and my torch-hunt became, for a time, the standing joke of the
settlement."