In an unexplored country, elk trails afford the best means of travel;
they are well laid out and lead to good camping-grounds. Moreover, if
there are any outlooks in the forest, or bare points on cliff or canyon
wall, the trails will pretty surely take one there. I am much indebted
to the elk for fine points of observation. Animals are not supposed to
be lovers of nature. As regards the elk, this, I think, is an error.
From long observation, I believe they have an appreciation of the
picturesque and the grand. So thoroughly have I felt this that
frequently when encamped in some beautiful and secluded nook, I have
strolled away from the noise of the camp with a firm belief that at dusk
these animals would visit the spot, attracted by its beauties, if by
nothing else.
Possibly there are sportsmen who, having shot their elk, are not again
attracted toward them, as toward other big game; they are easily
killed, and the shooting of them becomes slaughter. Deer and antelope
are more graceful and less easy to get a shot at than elk. Mountain
sheep offer far more excitement in the chase over rugged cliffs. White
goats are seldom seen, save in limited areas and out-of-the-way regions.
Buffalo are now so rarely seen that to come upon one in the wilds is the
ambition of the hunter. Bear-hunting must always be exciting on account
of the element of danger. Preferring not to use the rifle, the pleasures
of the chase do not enter into my enjoyment of animal life, and to me
elk are the most interesting of all big game, and a constant source of
pleasure. I never tire of watching them, they show so much individuality
and independence of character and stateliness of manner. In spite of the
fact that they are gregarious and fond of companionship, they show less
affection for each other than almost any other animal.
I have much feeling in common with an old Scotch friend of mine, a lover
of nature and a frequenter of forest and mountain, who spent a fortnight
in the Park with the express purpose of reproducing upon his bagpipe
those remarkable notes, the whistling of the elk, but with only partial
success. The story is told that the elk left that part of the country,
and he was unable to keep up with them.
That there are several thousand elk in the Park and adjoining country is
quite certain, but from the nature of the case it is a difficult matter
to estimate them. Their number may vary from year to year, depending
upon the severity of the winter and other causes. Exceptionally severe
seasons would naturally cause an increased death-rate. At all events,
they exist in numbers sufficient to put at rest all fear of
extermination if they shall only be protected and allowed to wander
undisturbed. Several favorable seasons might cause them to reach the
limit of a winter's food supply, but overcrowding must tend to a high
death-rate, and the struggle for existence would keep their number down.
The migratory habits of the elk would lead them to seek new haunts
beyond the protected region, offering every year opportunities for
healthy, manly sport to the ambitious hunter during the shooting-season.
Moose have been observed in this region only to a limited degree, but
probably they occur in somewhat larger numbers than is generally
supposed. While they are migratory in habit, their requirements restrict
their favorite haunts to limited and inaccessible areas, and they prefer
swampy and boggy regions in the lowlands to the meadows and grassy parks
of the uplands. They roam mainly in the southwest corner of the Park, in
the Falls River Basin, a level country fed by innumerable streams and
springs coming out from beneath the lavas of the plateau. As this basin
lies partly in Idaho, beyond the borders of the Park, and the moose
wander in and out of the reservation, their protection is a matter of
great difficulty; yet it is important, not only on account of their
scarcity, but because it is near the southern limit of their range. They
do not travel in large bands, and a country tramped up by moose is
unknown in the Park. In many instances they have probably been mistaken
for elk. I have detected their footprints in the broad valley of the
Snake, below the mouth of Lewis River, and also in the Lower Geyser
Basin, on Sentinel Creek, a small area, but one admirably fitted for
their needs. They have been seen on the borders of the Lake of the
Woods, and on the head of Stinking Water River east of Yellowstone Lake.
Two varieties of deer inhabit the Park, commonly known as the black-tail
and white-tail deer, the former being much the more abundant of the two.
Being fleet of foot, they roam over the entire area in passing from one
pasturage ground to another. They show a decided preference for gently
sloping foot-hills carrying a scattered growth of mingled pine and maple
and other deciduous trees, their natural habitat being the border-land
between dense forest and open valley. Such favorite spots affording
food, shelter, and shade abound, and present one of the most
characteristic features of an ideal park country. Deer haunt the valleys
of the Gallatin Range and the lava slopes around the head of Black Tail
Deer Creek, which flows into the Yellowstone; but more than any other
animal they seem to delight in changing their habitat. The ideal country
for deer is that paradise for big game, the valleys of the numerous
streams forming the sources of the Snake. While by no means as numerous
as elk, deer are found in sufficient numbers to allay all anxiety as to
their permanence under the new conditions now surrounding the Park.
Antelope, graceful and swift-footed creatures, restrict their range to
the open country, with habits nearly identical to those developed on the
plain. They are by no means numerous, and were so much shot at before
protection was afforded that they nearly became extinct. But in the last
few years they have steadily increased in numbers, and experience seems
to have taught them that safety lies within the protected region, rather
than in seeking in winter the lowlands outside its borders. Swan Valley
and the slopes of Mount Everts apparently satisfy their requirements. In
summer small bands roam over Hayden Valley, but so far as I know have
not increased in size.
The advantages of this region as a game reservation are again shown in
its meeting the requirements of the bighorn, or mountain sheep (_Ovis
canadensis_), an animal of quite different habits, which lives almost
wholly among the crags and cliffs of the steepest mountains. An ideal
bighorn country is found in the Absaroka Range, where the bare rocky
slopes are interspersed with patches of nutritious grasses. The size of
their bands, the frequent well-worn trails over the barren rocks, and
the occurrence of sheep "sign" everywhere, indicate conditions suitable
to sheep life. The head waters of the Stinking Water and Thoroughfare
Creek are among their favorite haunts. In the higher regions of the
Gallatin they may occasionally be seen, and, indeed, this may be said of
the summits of most of the peaks throughout the Park. They are an agile,
wary, keen-scented animal, and apparently never so happy as when on the
jump. Next to the elk, they are probably most sought by the horn-hunters
and game-butchers; but with a little protection, and only half a show,
they are abundantly capable of taking care of themselves.
That buffalo were among the animals inhabiting the Yellowstone Park was
known in the early days of its history; and that indefatigable explorer
and former superintendent of the Park, Colonel P. W. Norris, soon
recognized the need of protection for them if their extermination was
to be prevented. The Park buffalo may all be classed under the head of
mountain buffalo, and even in this elevated region they live for the
greater part of the year in the timber. In many ways their habits are
quite different from those generally attributed to the buffalo of the
plain, and it is most unusual, save in midwinter, to find them in open
valley or on the treeless mountain slope. They haunt the most
inaccessible and out-of-the-way places, and what would seem to be the
least attractive spots, living in open glades and pastures, the oases of
the dense forest, often only to be reached by climbing over a tangle of
fallen timber. Localities least visited by man and avoided by other
animals are by preference selected by buffalo. During long wanderings
over the timber plateau I have never ceased to be amazed at the resorts
selected by them, and by the rapidity of their disappearance on being
alarmed. I have frequently come upon ground tramped up by buffalo,
showing every evidence of recent occupation, but the animals were gone.
It is surprising how few buffalo have been seen in midsummer, even by
those most familiar with their haunts and habits. They wander about in
small bands in such unfrequented country as the southern end of the
Madison plateau, the Mirror plateau, and the head of Pelican Creek, and
on the borders of that elevated table-land known as Elephant Back. In
winter, leaving the forest, they feed over the slopes of Specimen Ridge,
and in the open Hayden Valley.
It is not likely that there ever were many buffalo in the Park, or that
those there ever suffered seriously from the hand of man other than the
Indian. Up to within recent years the plains buffalo offered a more
attractive field for the hunter nearer home. Their abodes in the Park
were inaccessible and far away from any base of supplies. Only since
their extermination from the plains and the advance of settlements to
the Park border have inroads upon their numbers taken place. If they
ever roamed over this country in large herds, evidence of the fact
should be apparent by well-trodden buffalo trails, which nowhere form a
feature of the Park plateau. Whether the natural increase in their
numbers has been kept down by the severity of the climate and an
uncongenial environment, or whether the young calves have been attacked
by predatory animals, has never been satisfactorily determined. Dangers
which would scarcely befall them in an open country might in a timbered
region tend to keep down their numbers. They occasionally wander beyond
the Park borders into Idaho and Montana with the first fall of snow,
returning to their mountain homes with the approach of spring. In 1884 I
estimated the buffalo in the Park at 200; since that time they have
gradually increased, and have probably doubled in number. In the winter
of 1891-92 the grazing-ground in Hayden Valley was visited by a snowshoe
party, who counted the scattered bands and took photographs of several
groups. These groups were generally small, and each contained a goodly
number of calves. They numbered by actual count nearly 300, but there is
no means of knowing what proportion of the Park buffalo were then
gathered here.
[Illustration: Buffalo Cows and Calves.