With something of a reputation of a hunter, I have often been requested
by Eastern, as well as local sportsmen, to give an enumeration and
description of the game and wild animals in this State and in Oregon. I
shall confine myself exclusively to this State. I have heretofore
written a description and given an enumeration of the game and other
wild animals in both States, but I have neither the manuscript, nor the
newspaper which printed it. In again attempting an enumeration and
description, I shall add some of my personal experiences, as well as
those of others.
There were no quail native to Washington or to Oregon, except the
southern portion thereof--save the mountain quail, a lonely solitary
bird, of about twice the size of the bob-white. Its habitat is the dense
copse or thicket. I have never seen them in flocks or groups, save when
the mother was raising her large family of young birds. When no longer
needing the mother's care, they pair off, and the young birds, or family
separate.
They are very alert; they are great runners, but do not, unless hotly
pursued, often take to wing. When they do, they are swift flyers and
dart through the narrow openings in the tangled thicket with remarkable
celerity. The male bird is proud and rather aristocratic in his bearing,
and flourishes on his head a beautiful top-knot. I have bagged quite a
number of them, but have nearly always shot them on the run and not on
the wing. They are not numerous. Their flesh is delicate.
The California quail was brought into Washington at least fifty years or
more ago. Three of us--James Montgomery, Judge Wingard and myself--in
the fall of 1872 brought from Pennsylvania sixteen pairs of bob-whites,
which were turned loose on Whidby Island. This was, so far as I know,
the first and last importation of the bob-white to Washington. When
turned loose on Whidby Island, they gave every indication of pleasure in
being upon Mother Earth again. They ran about, jumped up in to the air,
scratched the earth and wallowed in the dirt, and had to all appearances
a play-spell, full of joy. They mixed readily with their California
congeres; they have spread over Western Washington, and are quite
numerous.
The pheasant, or ruffed grouse, are natives of Washington. They were
very abundant in early days, but are fast disappearing. Being a bird
easily bagged, and the flesh being of delicate flavor, they are fast
vanishing before the advance of the settlements. The game laws may
arrest their slaughter and prevent their complete annihilation; but I
doubt it. The crab-apple, on which they principally feed, abounded in
all the valleys and in the moist and rich uplands. The ground where the
crab-apple tree flourished has been cleared and a portion of their food
supply has been cut off. The repeating shotgun is also helping to reduce
their number; and unless the game-laws are rigorously enforced, these
causes will soon sound their doom. Right here I am tempted to state that
the crab-apple of this country is entirely different in form and size
from the same fruit in the East. Here, it is not round but elongated,
and is about as large as a good-sized bean.
The woodcock is not an inhabitant of this State. The rail is rarely
seen; but the jacksnipe is very plentiful in the late fall and up to
mid-winter, when the great majority of them depart for warmer marshes.
They do not breed here. This bird, in its quick and upward bound and its
swift zigzag flights, is a recognized test of the sportsman's skill.
Snipes are often bagged here, but not in the romantic way. Snipe on hot
toast is a breakfast dish fit for a king.
I had a sporting friend--a doctor--with whom I often went
snipe-shooting. This doctor was the best snipe-shot I have ever known.
His bag was always packed, while mine was comparatively lean. On one of
these occasions our trip was to a tide-marsh and island south of
Seattle. Early in the hunt we crossed a slough when the tide was out and
found the birds very numerous on the new hunting-ground. The doctor
brought them down right and left, while I was slowly increasing the
fatness of my pouch. The doctor's success and consequent enthusiasm made
him oblivious of the flight of time and of the movement of the tide. He
had patients to visit, and when the sun was disappearing behind the
western clouds and hills, he suddenly remembered his obligations to
them. When on our return we came to the slough, we found it full and
overflowing; the water was fully eight feet in depth and twenty feet or
more in width. There was a good deal of floating debris in the slough,
and the doctor, being a very agile man, leaped from log to log and
safely made the passage to the other shore. He said to me, "Come on,
Judge; you can easily make it." I told him that I had never prided
myself on my agility. "Well," he said, "I will make a bridge for you;"
and with the use of a pole he gathered the floating logs together, so
that in appearance they looked like a safe bridge. But I said to him,
"Doctor, I have all the confidence in the world in you as a physician;
but you will excuse me,--I have no confidence whatever in you as a
bridge-builder." He said with a little impatience, "O, quit your
nonsense and come over; I will show you that the bridge is perfectly
safe;" so saying, he leaped upon it and disappeared in the water. He
soon re-appeared, however; and as he crawled up the slimy bank, the
water spouting out of him in every direction, I said: "Doctor, you look
very undignified." He answered, "You go to ----," politely called Hades.
I went down the slough, thinking he might be slightly out of temper, and
found a safe crossing. I rowed him home--issuing an occasional mandate
that he should take a certain medicine, of which I carried in my
breast-pocket, a bottle for such occasions. The good doctor has gone to
his long home. He sleeps in the bosom of his fathers and his God.
Of the duck family the following species are abundant here: the teal,
the mallard, widgeon, pintail, canvasback, spoonbill, sawbill and
woodduck. The three last-named species breed in this country, but
migrate early in the fall. Formerly the mallard and teal bred here in
large numbers on the tide flats and on the marshes along the creeks and
rivers; but the advancement of the settler and the trapper, and the
hunter with his repeating rifle, has driven them from their accustomed
love-haunts, to the more secluded fens and marshes of the farther north.
Birds as well as humans are sensitive to disturbance in their
love-affairs. The canvasback is a late and temporary visitant of our
lakes, marshes, and tide flats, on his journey to the south. He remains
for a time on that journey, and for a far shorter time on his return
north. The impulse of love impels him to the secluded fens and marshes
of the northland. The other species visit us in early winter, and are
mostly gone by mid-winter. Their stay is very brief on their return in
the spring.
In 1869, and prior to that date, brants and wild geese--or honkers--were
very plentiful in the Puget Sound basin. The tide flats were their
favorite feeding-ground. They have been compelled by the advance of the
settlements to abandon them, and in lieu thereof, they have chosen the
wheat-fields in Eastern Washington. There has been no seeming diminution
in number of either brant or geese--simply a change in their feeding
grounds.
The lonely cry of the loon, presaging storm or tempest, is heard from
the forest-environed lakes and waters of the Sound.
The swan occasionally drops into our secluded lakes, and there alone, or
with his mate, remains, if the environments suit him and food is plenty.
The pigeon is not numerous in Western nor, as I am informed, in Eastern
Washington. He is slightly larger and wilder than his congere of the
States. He is also of a deeper blue than his Eastern kinsman. He is only
semi-gregarious. I have never seen him in large flocks or in great
numbers together. He is not hunted much and is not valued as a choice
game-bird.
The prairie-hen, or chicken, is not a native of and does not exist in
Western Washington. This excellent game-bird is very numerous, or was in
years agone, along the rivers and creeks in the valleys and on the
rolling uplands of the great Columbia River basin. The incoming of the
white man, with his trained dogs and with his breech-loading and
repeating shotgun, has greatly diminished its numbers. Its
unacquaintance with the white man and his terrible instruments of
destruction made the bird an easy prey to the hunter. It was familiar to
the Indian, and presumably gauging fairly his destructive power,
constantly increased in number. The felon coyote was a far more
dangerous enemy, being a robber of its nest and devourer of its young.
The bird is slightly smaller and of lighter color than his Eastern
congere. These birds are much prized by the epicure for the rich
delicacy of their flesh.
Corresponding in number but larger in size is the blue grouse, of the
fir and cedar forests of Western Washington. I hardly know how to
describe this bird--one of the finest of game-birds. His habitat in the
winter or rainy season is the dark, gloomy, and thick forests of fir and
cedar trees. There he dwells, possibly with his chosen mate, silently
and noiselessly, and in a state of semi-hibernation, until the genial
warmth of spring arouses his love, and he and his mate descend to the
sunny lowlands or ridges for the rearing of their numerous family. After
they have found a suitable or familiar location, the male selects some
fir or cedar tree, or clump of fir or cedar trees, in the vicinage, and
during the nesting season keeps up a continual love-call to notify his
presence, or by his silence or flight to warn her of threatened danger.
When the bevy of beauties are fully hatched, the male descends from his
eminence and spends his time in assisting care and watchfulness. Perched
on some tall tree in their immediate vicinity, he by calls warns his
mate of approaching danger, and by the direction of his flight indicates
a place of safety. His mate and the youngsters soon follow, if able to
fly; if not, they remain under the care of the mother, deftly hidden
under the leaves or grass; after which, she often flies away by short
flights with simulated disabled indications, to invite pursuit; and thus
save her young. When the young are fully grown and strong of wing they
all depart for the deep woods, and no more is seen or heard of them
until the coming spring. Until the young are fully grown and the time of
their departure has arrived, they are often found in large bevies or
flocks; but when that time, late in the fall, has arrived, they silently
depart for their winter home.
Killed in early spring, their flesh is so strongly tinctured with the
flavor of the buds of the fir and cedar, their winter food, as to be
unpalatable to most persons; but if killed in the fall, after a summer's
diet of insects, seeds, grain and berries, their flesh is of a delicious
flavor and greatly relished. This excellent game-bird, though decreasing
in number from the general causes already stated, will, on account of
its mode of existence, long escape the doom of annihilation.
The sand-hill crane rarely visits Western Washington. He is more
frequently seen in the Eastern half of the State.
There remains but one other game-bird for notice, and that is the
sage-hen of the sage-covered valleys and plains of Eastern Washington.
This bird does not exist west of the Cascade Mountains. It is
anti-gregarious, save as in the consorting cares of a numerous family.
When the young arrive at full growth they pair off and separate, and the
family relations are no longer recognized. If the males are less
numerous than the females, polygamy is allowed. This is a law, however,
that runs through many of the bird families. The cock is a bird midway
in size between the common domestic fowl and the turkey, and has long
legs. He is a good runner. He rarely takes to the wing, and then only
when hard pressed. His flight is low but swift, and he soon drops to the
ground and speeds away on his legs to a place of safety. His food in
winter consists of leaves and buds of the sagebrush; and when killed in
the early spring his meat is too strongly impregnated with the rather
acrid and unpalatable flavor of the sage, to be relished; but if bagged
in the fall, after a summer's feeding on insects, seeds and grain, his
flesh is savory and delicious.
I ought possibly, to make a brief statement, as to the Mongolian
pheasant, and the Chinese rice quail--both of which, in limited numbers
have been brought to Western Washington and turned loose here. Their
increase has not been as great as anticipated. In Oregon however, the
increase of the Mongolian pheasant has been phenominal. It abounds every
where in the great Willamette Valley. It seems to love an alternation of
grain fields and contiguous chaparral cover. It is emphatically a seed
feeder or graniverous bird. The female, with the nursing assistance of
the male, usually raises two large broods per year. This accounts for
its great and rapid increase under favorable conditions. In size this
bird is slightly larger than the prairie chicken--has long legs--is a
rapid runner--and when it takes to wing is a low and rapid flyer.
In Western Washington the limited number of grain fields and the absence
of contiguous open ground--seems to be unfavorable to their rapid
increase. Still in the cultivated valleys where these conditions exist,
they are fact increasing in numbers despite the fact that they are an
easy prey to the pot hunter.
Of the China rice quail, I know accurately, but little. There were for a
time a few flocks of these birds in the vicinity of Seattle; but they
have almost entirely disappeared. Whether such disappearance is
attributable to the lack of food or to the persistent activity of the
trap hunter I am not able to say. They preserve their family or flock
relations until late in the spring, and hence the bevy may be swept out
of existence by one successful fall of the trap. From my observation and
limited study of their habits, I would say that they were chaparral, or
tulie birds, with their choice habitat near human habitations. In size
they are slightly smaller than the bob-white and their flesh is
delicious.
Washington is emphatically a game country. The hunter may here realize
his fondest hopes. The elk, mountain sheep or goat, deer, bear--black,
brown and cinnamon--cougar, lynx, wild-cat, in their native and
congenial habitat--I would not forget the wolf--can always be found. I
propose to notice each class briefly in its order.
First, then of the Elk. The mountains, with their barren ridges, their
wooded slopes and sunlit coves of peavine, clover and nutritious
grasses, as well as the dark forests of the foothills, are their
congenial habitat. Rarely are they found in the lowlands, and then only
when they are forced from their mountain-home by the deepening snow.
They have been styled the antlered monarchs of the forests, and this
description is not inapt. If suddenly, within short range you startle
from their secluded sylvan couch a band of forty, fifty or more of these
antlered monarchs, with horns erect and every eye turned upon you as an
enemy, you are deeply impressed with the majesty of their bearing.
Soon, in obedience to the danger-call of certain warning whistles, they
speedily form into line under some veteran and well-recognized-leader,
and speed away in single-file for miles, over a country impassable to
the hunter, before a halt is called. The hunter who does not improve his
chance effectively when the game is started from its couch has lost his
opportunity, perhaps forever.
This noble game seems to love the Coast Range of mountains, and there
exists in large herds and numbers. This is especially true of the
Olympic Range. If this kingly game-animal is to be saved from utter
annihilation, stringent laws must not only be enacted for his protection
and preservation, but must also be vigorously enforced.
Heretofore, they have been slaughtered in large numbers for their hides,
their horns and their teeth; while their carcasses have been left where
the life-struggle ended, to be devoured by the wolf, cougar, lynx or
wild-cat.
While the mountains bordering on the Ocean seem to be preferred by this
antlered monarch, yet he may be found in considerable numbers on the
Cascade Range, especially on its timber-slope and in the dense forests
on its foothills.
I have killed quite a number of these noble animals, but never, under
any circumstances, where I could not make uses of the carcass. I never
had, or experienced any joy arising from the mere love of slaughter.
With gun in hand, with hunter's blood in your veins, and noble game
within easy range, it requires a high degree of moral courage to refuse
to manipulate the trigger of your trusty rifle. With carniverous, or
dangerous animals it is different; slaughter becomes a virtue and not a
vice.
The habitat of the mountain sheep, or goat is on and around the barren
peaks and ranges of the higher formation of mountains. He is a wary
animal, hard to approach and difficult of shot. He is always so located
that a single bound puts him out of sight. If perchance, you could make
an effective shot as he leaps from narrow bench, to narrow bench, down
the rocky and steep side of the mountain, of what use would he be to
you?
I have succeeded in killing but one. I have hunted the mountain
districts where they are plentiful, and I had determined to kill one if
possible. I hunted slowly, cautiously and stealthily. I frequently
caught sight of them leaping down the mountain side. At last I aroused
one from his couch and shot him on his first jump. He rolled down the
mountain-side a short distance, but with some difficulty I dragged him
to the top of the ridge. His meat was sweet, juicy and delicious,
greatly relished by all the party. I had, had glory enough, and never
specially hunted them again.
The black, brown and cinnamon bear are natives of Washington, and their
numbers are in the order given. A bear is a semi-carniverous animal; he
lives on fish, berries, succulent and saccharine roots, larva, honey,
and is especially found of pork. He appeases his appetite for fish by a
nocturnal visitation of the rivers in which the salmon run, especially
in the salmon season; he roams through the woods in the berry season and
feeds on the toothsome food present in the forest. He unearths the
yellow-jacket's scanty storehouse of honey, and consumes it and the
larvae of the nest; he invades the farmer's domain and carries off some
of his most promising porkers. The habitat of the brown, and cinnamon
bear is the mountains and their foothills. They are not often seen
unless you invade their solitary domain. I am not prepared to say what
is their principal food, but suppose it to be the same as their kinsman
the black bear.
The cougar is a native of this State and can be found where dense
thickets and dark forests exist. He is a sly, skulking and treacherous
animal, mostly nocturnal in his destructive visitations. I have often
gone on a brief hunting-trip into the foothills of the mountains when
they were slightly covered with snow, and a dense fog would settle down,
obscuring all landmarks; but, in obedience to a safe rule, have retraced
my steps to the foot of the hills on my return home. On several of these
occasions I have found that a cougar had come upon my trail shortly
after I had entered the hills, and had stealthily and continuously
followed me up to within seven, or eight rods of the point of my return.
When I commenced my return, he, no doubt, leaped off into the covering
brush, and, although sharply looked for by me, the dense fog and the
thick brush hid him from my view.
The cougar is strictly a carniverous animal. His principal food is the
deer; and it is said that he requires two a month for his subsistence.
That he is a good feeder is evident from the fact that he is always
sleek and in excellent condition. He has a great love for the meat of
the colt, and is consequently a terror to breeders in that line. He is
not a hater of veal or pork, but does not prefer the latter.
He is generally considered a dangerous animal, and numerous are the
stories told of fortunate escapes from his ferocity. Many of these
stories have no foundation other than the surrounding darkness, the
rustling of the leaves, or the twigs by the wind, and a lively
imagination. While some of these narrations have an element of truth in
them, they are generally greatly exaggerated. But let me be understood
that when he is pressed by hunger and famished for want of food, I do
consider the cougar a dangerous animal. Few, however, are the reliable
accounts of his attacks on the lonely traveler in the woods, even under
such conditions. Two instances have occurred since my residence in the
Puget Sound Basin, which, from my acquaintance with the parties, I am
willing to vouch for. A friend temporarily stopping at Mukilteo desired
to go to Snohomish City, a distance on an air-line of about six miles;
there were two routes--one, by steamer or canoe, of full twice that
distance; the other by trail almost directly through a dense forest.
Being an expert woodsman, he chose the latter route. He was unarmed, and
had not even a pocket knife. He spoke of his defenseless condition on
the eve of his departure, but he feared no danger. He had proceeded
about a mile-and-a-half on his journey when, in a dense fir and cedar
forest, he met a cougar in the trail. The animal commenced stealthily to
crawl towards him after the manner of the cat approaching his prey,
purring as he came. My friend made a loud outcry, but this did not
interrupt the cougar's slow and stealthy approach. It would have been
more than useless to run--so he braced himself for the final spring.
When the animal came near he stood sideways to the brute; and when the
cougar made a spring, he presented his left arm and the cougar seized it
midway between the wrist and the elbow, and pushed him hard to throw him
off his feet, but failed. Being a strong and muscular man, and his
right arm being free, he struck the cougar on the nose, a hard blow with
his clenched fist. The cougar, however, kept his hold. Summoning up all
his energy, he struck the second blow on the nose of his enemy, and
while it drew blood the cougar still held on. Satisfied of the
insufficiency of such a mode of defense, and casting his eyes about him,
he saw a portion of a cedar limb standing upright in the brush several
feet from him--the limb being about two inches in diameter and three
feet in length--and he suffered the cougar to push him in the direction
of the limb. Having obtained it, he struck the cougar a powerful blow
across his face, and, although the cougar winced some, the effect was
for the animal to sink his teeth deeper into the imprisoned arm. My
friend concentrated all of his energy and struck a second blow with his
club. This blow was temporarily stunning and effective. The cougar
released his hold on the bleeding arm and, dazed somewhat, disappeared
in the surrounding forest. My friend retraced his steps to Mukilteo, now
a suburb of the busy and prosperous City of Everett.
One more instance: A gentleman of the name of Cartwright was in former
years an extensive logger on the Snohomish River in the Puget Sound
basin. At the time of the occurrence I am about to relate, he had a
large logging camp about three miles above Snohomish City. There had
been a deep fall of snow, and he left his home and went to the
logging-camp to see how the operation was affected by the unusual snow.
On his return late in the afternoon, he met a large cougar in the
snow-beaten trail. The cougar slowly approached him in the manner
described in the first instance. Mr. Cartwright was wholly unarmed; he
tried to alarm the cougar by a wild outcry, but to no purpose, so far
as the cougar was concerned. Some sixty rods away there was a bachelor's
cabin. The bachelor had three fierce dogs and they promptly answered Mr.
Cartwright's signal of danger; and their master, being at home, urged
them to the rescue. When their welcome bay approached, the cougar ceased
his purring, stood up, and soon leaped off into the dark forest and
disappeared, very much to Mr. Cartwright's relief. He presently reached
the river, unmoored his boat, and with the aid of a strong current soon
reached his home.