Late in the fall of 1867, I accompanied the Hon. P. P. Prim, who was
District Judge for Jackson and Josephine Counties, Oregon, from
Jacksonville to Kerbyville--the county seat of Josephine County--to
attend a term of court to be held at Kerbyville in the last named
county. The Honorable James D. Fay, and also other lawyers accompanied
the Judge to Josephine court. There had been high water and sweeping
floods which had rendered the crossing of the Applegate River on the
bridge, which was located about two miles above the Applegate's junction
with Rogue River, dangerous and impassable. So as we were making the
journey on horse back, we crossed Applegate about twenty miles above the
bridge and pursued our journey along and over the foothills on the left
bank of the river, intending to stop at a hotel on Slate Creek on the
left bank of the Applegate, and on the north bank of said creek about
two miles from said hotel. Passing across the mouth of a cove in the
hills, we heard to our left a noise, and looking in that direction, we
saw a female cougar and a mealy-nosed brown bear engaged in a bloody
battle. We stopped and watched the fight for about half an hour. The
battle ground was on a gentley sloping grass-covered side hill. The bear
persistently kept the upper side. The cougar kept in front of him. The
cougar was forcing the fighting. The battle proceeded with almost
regular rounds. The cougar paced back and forth in front of the bear
for a few moments; the bear intently watching her movements, when she
would make a spring; the contact was furious. Sometimes they would seize
each other with the jaw-hold, and to our astonishment the cougar was
more than a match for the bear in this hold, and the bear made every
effort to break it--throwing himself upon the ground, and digging
furiously into the cougar with the claws of his hind legs. By these
means he would speedily break the jaw-hold of the cougar. The hold
having been broken, and the combatants having separated, the cougar
would pace back and forth in front of the bear for a few moments and
then leap upon him again. Sometimes the bear would hug the cougar
closely, and use the claws of his hind feet with terrific effect. Thus
the fight proceeded. Both were covered with blood. The bear would
quietly sit during the intermissions in the fight. As the day was fast
waining, we left them still fighting, determining that we would go to
Slate creek--cross it--get some rifles from our host, and then
return; but when we came to Slate creek, we found it a raging
torrent--overflowing its banks, and spreading out over its narrow
valley. Our host, anticipating our coming, had selected a place for our
crossing of the creek. We had to swim our horses across the dangerous
current for some twenty or twenty-five feet, and although we
successfully made it, yet we were thoroughly wet. Although our host
having hunter's blood in his veins, was anxious to go to the scene of
the conflict, yet we so dreaded the crossing and re-crossing of Slate
creek that we denied ourselves the pleasure.
On our return about a week afterwards two of us stopped over at our
friend's, and went with our host out to the battle ground; but we found
no trace of either combatant.
On my return to Jacksonville I wrote up and published an account of the
battle--it was signed by all who witnessed the fight--but I have not the
manuscript nor its copy.
We all had our opinions of the cause of the conflict. The prevailing
opinion was that the bear had been interfering with the young of the
cougar.
The lynx, and wildcat may be briefly noted. They are both nocturnal
marauders. They are rarely seen in the daytime. Either of them located
in a dense copse near the ranch or farm, with a forest-reach beyond, is
a pestiferous nuisance which must be abated with a gun, dog, or trap,
before either lamb, pig, or chicken is safe. I do not believe in
poisoning. It is cowardly and dangerous.
The wildcat is an intractable and untamable animal. His ferocity is
never softened under the influence of kindly treatment. He is the
concentrated embodiment of spite and viciousness. Chained, it is always
dangerous to get within the inner circle of the metallic tether. He is
the pest of the deer-hunter. There is no mode of hanging up your game,
if you leave it in the woods over night, which is safe from the thieving
of this ever-hungry marauder.
On two occasions, I have found him seated on the hams or saddle of my
suspended venison, and I have shot him. On the last occasion, I did not
kill but severely wound him. I approached him. He was fiercely on the
warpath and tried to get to me. I put a bullet through his brain and
ended his warlike career.
Two species of wolves are natives of Washington--the everywhere present
coyote, and the large dark-gray wolf of the mountains. The coyote does
not in any considerable numbers visit the Puget Sound basin, or
tributary country west of the Cascade Mountains. His choice habitat is
the sage-brush plain, and the grassy undulations of the great Columbia
River basin. The mountains and their rough and sunless canyons are the
habitat of the large dark-gray wolf. He also loves the depressions in
the high mountain ranges where there exists usually an alternation of
marsh and thick forest. His dismal howl may nearly always be heard amid
the solemn stillness of these places. It was and still is dangerous to
tether or hobble your horse in such a place, as the early immigrants
learned to their sorrow. Many a fine animal was hamstrung or seriously
wounded. Large packs of these wolves often follow the deer, their usual
prey, to the foothills and outlying settlements. While the wolf in this
country is not considered an animal dangerous to man, yet, when driven
from his mountain home by hunger, and he assembles in packs in the
foothills and low grounds, he may be and probably is dangerous. An
experienced hunting friend of mine of the name of Taylor lived on a
ranch, in the early pioneer days, about a mile south of the now busy and
prosperous town of North Bend, in King County. This small but fertile
valley in which his pioneer home was located, lay near the base of the
foothills of the Cascade Mountains. It was his custom, after a light
fall of snow, with his trusty rifle in hand, to mount his favorite
riding horse, and, with a pack animal at his side, to go to the timber
skirting a prairie adjacent to the foothills, to kill from one to three
fat bucks, and to return the same day. On one of these occasions,
carefully hunting three or four hours for game, he found no deer, but
saw plenty of wolf tracks. He concluded that there had been an invasion
of his hunting ground by mountain wolves, and a departure of the deer
for safer feeding grounds. He immediately commenced his return to the
trail where his horses were tied. Soon, however, he heard the patter of
feet and saw a slight movement in the brush on every side of him. A
closer observation showed that he was encircled, by from fifteen to
twenty mountain wolves. Although a man of nerve, he confessed that he
was somewhat alarmed. His situation was a novel one to him. He had a
muzzle loading rifle, as he had always refused to adopt the repeating
rifle because of its alleged want of accuracy. As the wolves were slowly
contracting the circle surrounding him, he concluded to tree. He did so,
taking his rifle up with him. The wolves formed a circle about the tree
and, sitting or slowly moving about, looked intently at him as if in
expectation of their coming feast. Solemnly contemplating the situation,
and its possible dire results, he concluded to try the effect of a shot
upon this hungry pack. Quickly suiting the action to the resolve, he
sent a bullet crashing through the brain of one of the larger ones. The
animal leaped into the air and fell dead. Its companions rushed upon it
and fiercely tore its body to pieces. Finding that his first shot was
ineffective for rescue and quickly deciding on a theory different from
that which prompted the first shot, he sent a bullet into the abdomen,
of one of the sitting and waiting animals. This always produces a
stinging, writhing and painful wound. The animal struck, leaped into the
air, wheeled around several times, and then, with a dismal and alarming
howl, started off, his companions with him, on that "long gallop that
can tire the hound's deep hate and the hunter's fire." My friend, thus
fortunately relieved from his imprisonment, quickly descended from his
perch and hastened with anxious steps to his horses--and then to his
home.
The most valuable and useful of all the game family to man, and
especially to the pioneer, was and is the deer. Without venison the
table of the pioneer would be lacking in one of life's choicest and most
sustaining food. Of beef, pork and mutton, in any of their various
forms, he had none. The rifle was his purveyor; a table furnished with
delicious venison, the realization.
Deer are everywhere to be found in this State, and especially in the
wooded country west of the dividing-ridge of the Cascade Mountains.
While he likes open ridges and sunny coves as a roaming or
feeding-ground, a dense thicket or sylvan bower is the deer's dormitory.
I can say, without a breach of modesty, that I have been a great
deer-hunter. I have found him in larger numbers on the islands of the
Sound, than elsewhere. On one of these islands, Whidby, I found quite a
number of pure white, and also spotted or, to use the popular
expression, calico deer. Before this I had doubted somewhat the
existance of the pure white deer; but while hunting on that island I
came in view of a large five-pronged white buck, a spotted doe--his
seeming companion--and two calico fawns. I saw them from ambush, and my
first impression was to shoot the buck; but I hesitated, and finally
concluded not to do it. After observing them for some time, I alarmed
them and they disappeared in the contiguous woods. After their
departure, I went to the ranch of a pioneer-friend, and I found that he
had in a small park a pure white buck and five does--some spotted, and
others of the ordinary color. I learned from him that the progeny of the
buck in a great majority of cases was of the usual color--sometimes
calico, but rarely pure white. I tried to purchase the only pure white
fawn--offering fifty dollars for it--but he refused.
Deer were so plentiful in pioneer days, especially on the islands of the
Sound, that the pioneer had to fence against them. These fences were
from ten to twelve feet in height, and, as one expressed it, made
water-tight. The deer is very fond of growing oats, of potatoes, which
he readily digs with his sharp hoofs, of cabbage and lettuce, and other
products of the field and garden.
The cougar, the wolf and the lynx, the natural enemies and destroyers of
the deer for food, do not exist on the islands; hence their large and,
if left to natural causes, their constantly increasing numbers.
The deer on the islands of the Sound, as a general rule, are smaller
than those on the mainland; and my observation is, that they increase in
size as you go back from the shores of the Sound, through the continuous
woods, to the foothills and mountain-slopes.
All of the deer in this State belong to what is familiarly known as the
black-tailed family. It is not common in the great basin of Puget Sound,
including therein all of the country west of the dividing-ridge of the
Olympic Range, to find and kill a deer decidedly fat. In Southern Oregon
I have killed what was called bench-bucks, as fat as any mutton I ever
saw; but the ridges and foothills where they roam were covered with oak
timber, which produced an abundant supply of acorns, of which they are
very fond and upon which they plentifully feed. Such food is rich and
fattening. There are no oaks or acorns in this State; at most, they are
so exceptional as not to deserve notice.
Lingering along the snow-line in the mountains, and ascending and
descending with it, is a species of deer known as the mule-deer. He is
so called for two reasons: first, many males have dark stripes across
their shoulders and the same kind of stripes across the loin; the
mule-deer has the same; secondly, the mule-deer has enormous ears,
equalling, if not exceeding, in size those of the mule. His head is more
like a calf's head than that of a deer. He frequently reaches in weight
two-hundred-and-fifty and even three hundred pounds. He is king of the
deer family. He is not often shot, as he is known, only, to the hunter
and the adventurous pioneer.
This concludes my brief account of the game and other animals of
Washington. Well-considered laws have been passed by the Legislature for
the protection and preservation of the useful, and for the destruction
of the non-useful and dangerous animals. It is hoped that these laws may
be thoroughly enforced.
During my residence on the Pacific Coast I have, on invitation,
delivered many addresses before Bar Associations, County and State;
before Odd Fellows' and Masonic Lodges and Literary Societies. I have
pronounced obituary addresses on the life and character of persons
of National, State, and local reputation. Many of these I have in
manuscript. I give here an address on reminiscences of the Bench and Bar
in early days, delivered before the Washington State Bar Association at
its meeting in Seattle in July, 1894: