Wild Mountain Sheep

One day in Glacier Gorge, Colorado, I was astonished to see a number

of sheep start to descend the precipitous eastern face of Thatch-Top

Mountain. This glaciated wall, only a few degrees off the

perpendicular, rises comparatively smooth for several hundred feet.

Down they came, slowly, with absolute composure, over places I dared

not even try to descend. The nearness of the sheep and the use of

field-glasses gave me excellent views of the many ways in which they

actually seemed to court danger.

It is intensely thrilling to watch a leaping exhibition of one of

these heavy, agile, alert, and athletic animals. Down precipitous

places he plunges head foremost, turning and checking himself as he

descends by striking his feet against walls and projections--perhaps a

dozen times--before alighting on a ledge for a full stop. From this

he walks overboard and repeats the wild performance!

Wild mountain sheep are perhaps the most accomplished and dare-devil

acrobats in the animal world. They are indifferent to the depths

beneath as they go merrily along cañon-walls. The chamois and the wild

mountain goat may equal them in climbing among the crags and peaks,

but in descending dizzy precipices and sheer walls the bighorn sheep

are unrivaled. When sheep hurriedly descend a precipice, the laws of

falling bodies are given a most spectacular display, and the

possibilities of friction and adhesion are tested to the utmost.

A heavily horned ram led the way down Thatch-Top. He was followed by

two young rams and a number of ewes, with two small lambs in the rear.

They were in single file, each well separated from the others. Down

this frightful wall the lambs appeared to be going to certain death.

At times they all followed the contour round small spurs or in niches.

In places, from my point of view they appeared to be flattened against

the wall and descending head foremost.

There was one long pitch that offered nothing on which to stand and no

place on which to stop. Down this the old ram plunged with a series of

bouncing drops and jumps,--falling under control, with his fall

broken, checked, and directed, without stopping, by striking with the

feet as frequently as was necessary. First came three or four

straightforward bouncing dives, followed by a number of swift zigzag

jumps, striking alternately right and left, then three or four darts

to the right before again flying off to the left. At last he struck on

a wide ledge, where he pulled up and stopped with masterly resistance

and stiff-legged jumps! Mind controlled matter! This specialty of the

sheep requires keen eyesight, instant decision, excellent judgment, a

marvelous nicety in measuring distances, and a complete forgetfulness

of peril. Each ewe in turn gave a similar and equally striking

exhibition; while the lambs, instead of breaking their necks in the

play of drop and bounce, did not appear to be even cautious. They

showed off by dropping farther and going faster than the old ones!

This was sheer frolic for these children of the crags.

Down a vertical gulley--a giant chimney with one side out--they went

hippety-hop from side to side, and at the bottom, without a stop,

dropped fifteen feet to a wide bench below. The ram simply dived off,

with front feet thrust forward and with hind feet drawn up and

forward, and apparently struck with all four feet at once. A number of

others followed in such rapid succession that they appeared to be

falling out of the air. Each, however, made it a point to land

to the right or the left of the one it was following. Two ewes

turned broadside to the wall as they went over and dropped

vertically,--stiff-legged, back horizontal, and with head held well

up. The lambs leaped overboard simultaneously only a second behind the

rear ewe, each lamb coming to a stop with the elastic bounce of youth.

Beneath this bench where all had paused, the wall was perilously steep

for perhaps one hundred feet. A moment after the lambs landed, the ram

followed the bench round the wall for several yards, then began to

descend the steep wall by tacking back and forth on broken and

extremely narrow ledges, with many footholds barely two inches wide.

He was well down, when he missed his footing and fell. He tumbled

outward, turned completely over, and, after a fall of about twenty

feet, struck the wall glancingly, at the same time thrusting his feet

against it as though trying to right himself. A patch of hair--and

perhaps skin--was left clinging to the wall. A few yards below this,

while falling almost head first, he struck a slope with all four feet

and bounded wildly outward, but with checked speed. He dropped on a

ledge, where with the utmost effort he regained control of himself and

stopped, with three or four stiff plunges and a slide. From there he

trotted over easy ways and moderate slopes to the bottom, where he

stood a while trembling, then lay down.

One by one his flock came down in good order. The leaps of flying

squirrels and the clever gymnastic pranks of monkeys are tame shows

compared with the wild feats of these masters of the crags.

The flock, after playing and feeding about for an hour or more,

started to return. The injured leader lay quietly on the grass, but

with head held bravely erect. The two lambs raced ahead and started to

climb the precipice over the route they had come down. One ewe went to

the bottom of the wall, then turned to look at the big-horned leader

who lay still upon the grass. She waited. The lambs, plainly eager to

go on up, also waited. Presently the ram rose with an effort and

limped heavily away. There was blood on his side. He turned aside from

the precipice and led the way back toward the top by long easy slopes.

The flock slowly followed. The lambs looked at each other and

hesitated for some time. Finally they leaped down and raced rompingly

after the others.

The massive horns of the rams, along with the audacious dives that

sheep sometimes make on precipices, probably suggested the story that

sheep jump off a cliff and effectively break the shock of the fall by

landing on their horns at the bottom! John Charles Frémont appears to

have started this story in print. Though sheep do not alight on their

horns, this story is still in circulation and is too widely believed.

Every one with whom I have talked who has seen sheep land after a leap

says that the sheep land upon their feet. I have seen this performance

a number of times, and on a few occasions there were several sheep;

and each and all came down feet first. Incidentally I have seen two

rams come down a precipice and strike on their horns; but they did not

rise again! The small horns of the ewes would offer no shock-breaking

resistance if alighted upon; yet the ewes rival the rams in making

precipitous plunges.

The sheep is the only animal that has circling horns. In rams these

rise from the top of the head and grow upward, outward, and backward,

then curve downward and forward. Commonly the circle is complete in

four or five years. This circular tendency varies with locality. In

mature rams the horns are from twenty to forty inches long, measured

round the curve, and have a basic circumference of twelve to eighteen

inches. The largest horn I ever measured was at the base nineteen and

a half inches in circumference. This was of the Colorado bighorn

species, and at the time of measurement the owner had been dead about

two months. The horns of the ewes are small, and extend upward,

pointing slightly outward and backward.

The wildest leap I ever saw a sheep take was made in the Rocky

Mountains a few miles northwest of Long's Peak. In climbing down a

precipice I rounded a point near the bottom and came upon a ram at the

end of the ledge I was following. Evidently he had been lying down,

looking upon the scenes below. The ledge was narrow and it ended just

behind the ram, who faced me only five or six feet away. He stamped

angrily, struck an attitude of fight, and shook his head as if to say,

"I've half a mind to butt you overboard!" He could have butted an ox

overboard. My plan was to fling myself beneath a slight overhang of

wall on the narrow ledge between us if he made a move.

While retreating backward along almost nothing of a ledge and

considering the wisdom of keeping my eyes on the ram, he moved, and I

flung myself beneath the few inches of projecting wall. The ram simply

made a wild leap off the ledge.

This looked like a leap to death. He plunged down at an angle to the

wall, head forward and a trifle lower than the rump, with feet drawn

upward and thrust forward. I looked over the edge, hoping he was

making a record jump. The first place he struck was more than twenty

feet below me. When the fore feet struck, his shoulder blades jammed

upward as though they would burst through the skin. A fraction of a

second later his hind feet also struck and his back sagged violently;

his belly must have scraped the slope. He bounded upward and outward

like a heavy chunk of rubber. This contact had checked his deadly drop

and his second striking-place was on a steeply inclined buttress;

apparently in his momentary contact with this he altered his course

with a kicking action of the feet.

There was lightning-like foot action, and from this striking-place he

veered off and came down violently, feet first, upon a shelf of

granite. With a splendid show of physical power, and with desperate

effort, he got himself to a stand with stiff-legged, sliding bounds

along the shelf. Here he paused for a second, then stepped out of

sight behind a rock point. Feeling that he must be crippled, I

hurriedly scrambled up and out on a promontory from which to look down

upon him. He was trotting down a slope without even the sign of a

limp!

Sheep do sometimes slip, misjudge a distance, and fall. Usually a bad

bruise, a wrenched joint, or a split hoof is the worst injury, though

now and then one receives broken legs or ribs, or even a broken neck.

Most accidents appear to befall them while they are fleeing through

territory with which they are unacquainted. In strange places they are

likely to have trouble with loose stones, or they may be compelled to

leap without knowing the nature of the landing-place.

A sheep, like a rabbit or a fox, does his greatest work in evading

pursuers in territory with which he is intimately acquainted. If

closely pursued in his own territory, he will flee at high speed up

or down a precipice, perform seemingly impossible feats, and

triumphantly escape. But no matter how skillful, if he goes his utmost

in a new territory, he is as likely to come to grief as an orator who

attempts to talk on a subject with which he is not well acquainted. It

is probable that most of the accidents to these masters of the crags

occur when they are making a desperate retreat through strange

precipitous territory.

In the Elk Mountains a flock of sheep were driven far from their

stamping-ground and while in a strange country were fired upon and

pursued by hunters. They fled up a peak they had not before climbed.

The leader leaped upon a rock that gave way. He tumbled off with the

rock on top. He fell upon his back--to rise no more. A ewe missed her

footing and in her fall knocked two others over to their death, though

she regained her footing and escaped.

One day a ram appeared on a near-by sky-line and crossed along the top

of a shattered knife-edge of granite. The gale had driven me to

shelter, but along he went, unmindful of the gale that was ripping

along the crags and knocking things right and left. Occasionally he

made a long leap from point to point. Now and then he paused to look

into the cañon far below. On the top of the highest pinnacle he

stopped and became a splendid statue. Presently he rounded a spur

within fifty feet of me and commenced climbing diagonally up a wall

that appeared almost vertical and smooth. My glass showed that he was

walking along a mere crack in the rock, where footholds existed mostly

in imagination. On this place he would stop and scratch with one hind

foot and then rub the end of a horn against the wall!

As he went on up, the appearance was like a stage effect, as though he

were sustained by wires. At the end of the crack he reared, hooked his

fore feet over a rough point, and drew himself up like an athlete,

with utter indifference to the two hundred feet of drop beneath him.

From this point he tacked back and forth until he had ascended to the

bottom of a vertical gully, which he easily mastered with a series of

zigzag jumps. In some of these he leaped several feet almost

horizontally to gain a few inches vertically. Occasionally he leaped

up and struck with his feet in a place where he could not stand, but

from which he leaped to a place more roomy. His feet slipped as he

landed from one high jump; instantly he pushed himself off backward

and came down feet foremost on the narrow place from which he had just

leaped. He tried again and succeeded.

The edges of sheep's hoofs are hard, while the back part of the bottom

is a rubbery, gristly pad, which holds well on smooth, steep surfaces.

Coöperating with these excellent feet are strong muscles, good eyes,

and keen wits.

Wild sheep are much larger than tame ones. They are alert,

resourceful, and full of energy. Among the Colorado bighorns the rams

are from thirty-eight to forty-two inches high, and weigh from two

hundred to three hundred and fifty pounds. The ewes are a third

smaller. The common color is grayish brown, with under parts and

inside of the legs white. In the north there is one pure-white

species, while on neighboring ranges there is a black species. Though

wild sheep usually fallow a leader, each one is capable of independent

action. Tame sheep are stupid and silly; wild sheep are wide-awake and

courageous. Tame sheep are dirty and smelly, while wild sheep are as

well-groomed and clean as the cliffs among which they live.

In discussing wild life many people fail to discriminate between the

wild sheep and the wild goats. The goat has back-curving spike horns

and a beard that makes the face every inch a goat's. Though of

unshapely body and awkward gait, his ungainliness intensified by his

long hair, the goat is a most skillful climber. The sheep excel him

for speed, grace, and, perhaps, alertness.

It is believed that the three or four species of sheep found in the

wilds of America had their origin in Asia. In appearance and habits

they bear a striking resemblance to the sheep which now inhabit the

Asiatic mountains.

Wild sheep are found in Alaska, western Canada, and the United States

west of the Plains, and extend a short distance down into Mexico.

Most flocks in the Sierra and the Rocky Mountains live above the

timber-line and at an altitude of twelve thousand feet. Winter

quarters in these high stamping-grounds appear to be chosen in

localities where the high winds prevent a deep accumulation of snow.

This snow-removal decreases the danger of becoming snowbound and

usually enables the sheep to obtain food.

Their warm, thick under covering of fine wool protects them from the

coldest blasts. During storms the sheep commonly huddle together to

the leeward of a cliff. Sometimes they stand thus for days and are

completely drifted over. At the close of the storm the stronger ones

lead and buck their way out through the snow. Occasionally a few weak

ones perish, and occasionally, too, a mountain lion appears while the

flock is almost helpless in the snow.

Excursions from their mountain-top homes are occasionally made into

the lowlands. In the spring they go down early for green stuff, which

comes first to the lowlands. They go to salt licks, for a ramble, for

a change of food, and for the fun of it. The duration of these

excursions may be a few hours or several days.

Most of the time the full-grown rams form one flock; the ewes and

youngsters flock by themselves. Severe storms or harassing enemies may

briefly unite these flocks. One hundred and forty is the largest flock

I ever counted. This was in June, on Specimen Mountain, Colorado; and

the sheep had apparently assembled for the purpose of licking salty,

alkaline earth near the top of this mountain. Wild sheep appear to

have an insatiable craving for salt and will travel a day's journey to

obtain it. Occasionally they will cross a high, broken mountain-range

and repeatedly expose themselves to danger, in order to visit a salt

lick.

The young lambs, one or two at a birth, are usually born about the

first of May in the alpine heights above timber-line. What a wildly

royal and romantic birthplace! The strange world spreading far below

and far away; crags, snowdrifts, brilliant flowers,--a hanging wild

garden, with the ptarmigan and the rosy finches for companions! The

mother has sole care of the young; for several weeks she must guard

them from hungry foxes, eagles, and lions. Once I saw an eagle swoop

and strike a lamb. Though the lamb was knocked heels over head, the

blow was not fatal. The eagle wheeled to strike again, but the mother

leaped up and shielded the wounded lamb. Eaglets are occasionally fed

on young lambs, as skulls near eagle's nests in the cliffs bear

evidence.

A number of ewes and lambs one day came close to my hiding-place. One

mother had two children; four others had one each. An active lamb had

a merry time with his mother, butting her from every angle, rearing up

on his hind legs and striking with his head, and occasionally leaping

entirely over her. While she lay in dreamy indifference, he practiced

long jumps over her, occasionally stopping to have a fierce fight with

an imaginary rival. Later he was joined by another lamb, and they

proceeded to race and romp all over a cliff, while the mothers looked

on with satisfaction. Presently they all lay down, and a number of

magpies, apparently hunting insects, walked over them.

In one of the side cañons on the Colorado in Arizona, I was for a

number of days close to a flock of wild sheep which evidently had

never before seen man. On their first view of me they showed marked

curiosity, which they satisfied by approaching closely, two or three

touching me with their noses. Several times I walked among the flock

with no excitement on their part. I was without either camera or gun.

The day I broke camp and moved on, one of the ewes followed me for

more than an hour.

They become intensely alert and wild when hunted; but in localities

where they are not shot at they quickly become semi-domestic, often

feeding near homes of friendly people. During the winter sheep

frequently come from the heights to feed near my cabin. One day, after

a number had licked salt with my pony, a ram which appeared as old as

the hills walked boldly by my cabin within a few feet of it, head

proudly up. After long acquaintance and many attempts I took his

photograph at five feet and finally was allowed to feel of his great

horns!

[Illustration: A WILD MOUNTAIN SHEEP

_Copyright, 1913, by Enos A. Mills_]

A few years ago near my cabin a ram lost his life in a barbed-wire

fence. He and a number of other rams had fed, then climbed to the top

of a small crag by the roadside. While they were there, a man on

horseback came along. Indifferently they watched him approach; but

when he stopped to take a picture all but one fled in alarm, easily

leaping a shoulder-high fence. After a minute the remaining ram became

excited, dashed off to follow the others, and ran into the fence. He

was hurled backward and one of his curved horns hooked over a wire.

Finding himself caught, he surged desperately to tear himself free. In

doing this a barb severed the jugular vein. He fell and freed his horn

from the wire in falling. Rising, he ran for the crag from which he

had just fled, with his blood escaping in great gushes. As he was

gaining the top of the crag he rolled over dead.

A flock which is often divided into two, one of ewes and one of rams,

lives on the summit of Battle Mountain, at an altitude of twelve

thousand feet, about four miles from my cabin. I have sometimes

followed them when they were rambling. About the middle of one

September this flock united and moved off to the south. I made haste

to climb to the top of Mt. Meeker so as to command most of their

movements. I had been watching for several hours without even a

glimpse of them. Rising to move away, I surprised them as they lay at

rest near-by, a little below the summit; and I also surprised a lion

that evidently was sneaking up on them. This was close to the altitude

of fourteen thousand feet. The mountain lion is the game-hog of the

heights and is a persistent and insidious foe of sheep. He kills both

old and young, and usually makes a capture by sneaking up on his

victim. Sometimes for hours he lies in wait by a sheep trail.

The day following the surprise on Mt. Meeker, this flock appeared at

timber-line about three miles to the southeast. Here some hunters

fired on it. As it fled past me, I counted, and one of the

twenty-eight was missing. The flock spent most of the next day about

Chasm Lake, just under the northern crags of Meeker. Before night it

was back at its old stamping-ground on Battle Mountain. Early the

following morning the big ram led the way slowly to the west on the

northern slope of Long's Peak, a little above timber-line.

During the morning a grizzly came lumbering up the slope, and as I

thought he would probably intercept the sheep, I awaited the next

scene with intense interest. The bear showed no interest in the sheep,

which, in turn, were not alarmed by his approach. Within a few yards

of the flock he concluded to dig out a fat woodchuck. The sheep, full

of curiosity, crowded near to watch this performance,--evidently too

near to suit Mr. Grizzly, who presently caused a lively scattering

with a _Woof!_ and a charge. The bear returned to his digging, and the

sheep proceeded quietly on their way.

The flock went down into Glacier Gorge, then out on the opposite side,

climbing to the summit of the Continental Divide. The following day

another flock united with it; and just at nightfall another, composed

entirely of ewes and lambs, was seen approaching. At daylight the

following morning the Battle Mountain flock was by itself and the

other flocks nowhere in sight. During the day my flock traveled four

or five miles to the north, then, doubling back, descended Flat-Top

Mountain, and at sundown, after a day's trip of about twenty miles and

a descent from twelve thousand feet to eight thousand, arrived at the

Mary Lake salt lick in Estes Park. Before noon the following day this

flock was on the Crags, about three miles south of the lake and at an

altitude of eleven thousand feet.

Near the Crags I saw a fight between one of the rams of this flock and

one that ranged about the Crags. The start of this was a lively

pushing contest, head to head. At each break there was a quick attempt

to strike each other with their horns, which was followed by goat-like

rearing and sparring. As they reared and struck, or struck while on

their hind legs, the aim was to hit the other's nose with head or

horn. Both flocks paused, and most of the sheep intently watched the

contest.

Suddenly the contestants broke away, and each rushed back a few yards,

then wheeled with a fine cutting angle and came at the other full

tilt. There was a smashing head-on collision, and each was thrown

upward and almost back on his haunches by the force of the impact.

Instantly they wheeled and came together in a flying butt. A number of

times both walked back over the stretch over which they rushed

together. It was a contest between battering rams on legs.

Occasionally one was knocked to his knees or was flung headlong. The

circular arena over which they fought was not more than twenty-five

feet in diameter. In the final head-on butt the ram of the Crags was

knocked end over end; then he arose and trotted away down the slope,

while the victor, erect and motionless as a statue, stared after him.

Both were covered with blood and dirt. During the day the flock

returned to Battle Mountain.

The following day this flock separated into two flocks, the youngsters

and ewes in one and the old rams in the other. At mating-time, early

in October, the flocks united, and the rams had it out among

themselves. There were repeated fights; sometimes two contests were

in progress at once. In the end a few rams were driven off without

mates, while three or four rams each led off from one to five ewes.

Over the greater part of their range the wild mountain sheep are

threatened with extermination. They are shot for sport and for their

flesh, and are relentlessly hunted for their horns. But the mountain

sheep are a valuable asset to our country. They are picturesque and an

interesting part of the scenery, an inspiration to every one who sees

them.