CHAPTER I_Watched by Wild Animals

WATCHED BY WILD ANIMALS

BOOKS BY ENOS A. MILLS

ADVENTURES OF A NATURE GUIDE

THE GRIZZLY, OUR GREATEST WILD ANIMAL

IN BEAVER WORLD

ROCKY MOUNTAIN WONDERLAND

STORY OF A THOUSAND-YEAR PINE

WILD LIFE ON THE ROCKIES

STORY OF ESTES PARK, GRAND LAKE, AND ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK

STORY OF SCOTCH

SPELL OF THE ROCKIES

WAITING IN THE WILDERNESS

WATCHED BY WILD ANIMALS

YOUR NATIONAL PARKS

[Illustration:

_The Rocky Mountain Goat_]

WATCHED BY WILD ANIMALS

BY ENOS A. MILLS

ILLUSTRATED FROM

PHOTOGRAPHS AND FROM

DRAWINGS BY WILL JAMES

GARDEN CITY, N.Y., AND TORONTO

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

1922

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

IN THE UNITED STATES AND GREAT BRITAIN

PRINTED AT GARDEN CITY, N. Y., U. S. A.

_First Edition_

ESTHER AND ENDA

PREFACE

In the wilds, moving or standing, I was the observed of all observers.

Although the animals did not know I was coming, generally they were

watching for me and observed me without showing themselves.

As I sat on a log watching two black bears playing in a woods opening,

a faint crack of a stick caused me to look behind. A flock of mountain

sheep were watching me only a few steps distant. A little farther away

a wildcat sat on a log, also watching me. There probably were other

watchers that I did not see.

Animals use instinct and reason and also have curiosity--the desire to

know. Many of the more wide-awake species do not run panic-stricken

from the sight or the scent of man. When it is safe they linger to

watch him. They also go forth seeking him. Their keen, automatic,

constant senses detect him afar, and stealthily, sometimes for hours,

they stalk, follow and watch him.

In the wilderness the enthusiastic, painstaking and skillful observer

will see many wild folks following their daily routine. But, however

fortunate he may be, numerous animals will watch him whose presence he

never suspects.

* * * * *

Parts of the chapters in this book have appeared in the _Saturday

Evening Post_, the _American Boy_, _Field and Stream_, _Munsey’s_ and

_Countryside_. Acknowledgment is hereby made to the editors of these

magazines for granting permission to reprint this material.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT 1

II. THE HAYMAKER OF THE HEIGHTS 16

III. INTRODUCING MR. AND MRS. SKUNK 31

IV. THE PERSISTENT BEAVER 47

V. THE OTTER PLAYS ON 60

VI. THE BIGHORN IN THE SNOW 72

VII. THE CLOWN OF THE PRAIRIES 84

VIII. THE BLACK BEAR--COMEDIAN 98

IX. ON WILD LIFE TRAILS 113

X. REBUILDING A BEAVER COLONY 126

XI. THE WARY WOLF 141

XII. WINTER WAYS OF ANIMALS 158

XIII. PRONGHORN OF THE PLAINS 175

XIV. THE MOUNTAIN LION 189

XV. FAMINE IN BEAVER-LAND 205

XVI. DOG-TOWN DIGGINGS 215

XVII. ECHO MOUNTAIN GRIZZLY 229

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT _Frontispiece_

FACING PAGE

GOAT-LAND 20

A WILD CAT 36

BEAR FEET 36

A BLACK BEAR 37

ANTELOPE 37

A BEAVER HOUSE AND WINTER FOOD SUPPLY 68

A BEAVER HOUSE IN THE FIRST SNOW 68

COYOTE--CLOWN OF THE PRAIRIES 69

A BEAVER CANAL 84

A NEW BEAVER DAM 84

THE MOUNTAIN LION 85

THE PRAIRIE DOG 116

THE CONY 116

LOOKING FOR SMALL FAVOURS 117

MOUNTAIN LION 132

BIGHORN MOUNTAIN SHEEP 133

A WILD LIFE TRAIL CENTRE 180

MY DEPARTING CALLER 181

JOHNNY, MY GRIZZLY CUB 196

ECHO MOUNTAIN GRIZZLY 197

WATCHED BY WILD ANIMALS

CHAPTER I

THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT

As a flock of wild goats wound in and out among the crevasses and

crossed the slender ice bridges of a glacier on Mount Rainier they

appeared for all the world like a party of skillful mountain climbers.

Not until I had studied them for a few seconds through my field

glasses did I realize that they were goats. There were twenty-seven of

them, nannies, billies, and kids, strung out in a crooked line, single

file. Once safely across this glacier they lingered to look round. The

kids played, the old goats had friendly bouts, and one or two couples

scratched each other. After a delay of more than an hour they set off

round the mountain and I followed.

While crossing another ice slope they were suddenly subjected to a

severe bombardment. A number of large rock fragments crashed down the

steep slope, bounding, hurtling, and ripping the air with terrific

speed. The goats were directly in the path of the flying stones, which

for a number of seconds bounded over them and struck among them. A

small stone struck an old billy on the shoulder and knocked him

sliding for some distance. When he regained his feet his shoulder

appeared to be broken. Though making every effort to control himself,

he continued to slide and presently tumbled into a crevasse. He caught

with his good fore foot on the ice and clung for a second, made one

desperate attempt to push himself back and almost succeeded, and then

fell into the crevasse and disappeared.

A few of the flock watched him, but most of them stood with their

heads up the slope facing the wildly bounding stones. None of them

ran; there was no confusion, no panic. It was, perhaps, safer for the

goats to stand still, thus presenting the smallest target for the

flying stones, than to rush forward or to retreat in the midst of the

bombardment, for the rocks were coming down both in front and behind

them. At any rate, the goat is a wise fellow, and this flock probably

had experienced rock fire before. When it was all over the bearded old

leader started forward with the rest again following.

Until recently most goats lived in localities rarely visited either

by Indians or by white hunters. As a result, when first shot at they

were not excited and were slow to run away. This procrastination of

the goat while under fire, together with his supremely crude outlines

and slow, awkward actions, led most early hunters and trappers to call

him a stupid animal. But he is not at all stupid. Evidence of his

alertness and mental development is shown in his curiosity and in his

ability to readjust himself promptly to new dangers.

In localities where he was unacquainted with man the goat apparently

made no effort to guard against enemies or to use sentinels. But

promptly after the coming of hunters and long-range rifles he became

extremely wary and sought look-out resting places of safety and had

sentinels on duty. He is thoroughly wide-awake at all times. When

surprised in close quarters he shows no confusion or panic, and

retreats in a masterly manner. If one route of retreat is blocked he

starts for another without losing his head. If finally cornered, he

makes a stand.

Hunters and dogs cornered an old billy near me in the head of a

glacial cirque, in what is now the Glacier National Park. The goat

made his stand on slide rock at the bottom of a precipitous wall. He

watched for an opportunity to escape, and made one or two himself.

The dogs surged round him. He leaped at one, and with a remarkably

quick move of head struck and impaled him on his sharp horns; with a

twisting upward toss of the head he ripped and flung him to his death.

In rapid succession he killed three dogs. The fourth dog was tossed

entirely over a precipice. At this the other dogs drew off.

Finding himself free, the goat did a little desperate rock work to

gain a ledge, along which he safely climbed. He stepped accurately,

and though the ledge was narrow and covered with small stones there

was no slipping and only a few stones fell. The goat defied and

defeated this pack of dogs so coolly and easily that I could believe,

as I had been told, that he is more than a match for a black bear.

I have never heard of a goat showing any symptoms of fright or fear.

Fear with him appears to be a lost trait. It is possible that such a

trait may have been detrimental to life in the daily dangers of icy

summits and through evolution was long ago eliminated. The goat is

decidedly philosophical, makes every movement, meets every emergency

with matter-of-fact composure. In all times of danger, and even when

dying, he retains mastership of his powers. A mother with a kid,

retreating and heroically fighting off dogs while doing so, impressed

me with goat spirit. At last cornered, she kept up the fight,

remaining on her feet after she had been struck by several bullets.

The goat often does not die nor does he surrender for some time after

receiving a number of fatal wounds, but fights on with telling

effectiveness. I imagine he will absorb as many or more bullets, and

temporarily survive as long, as any animal in existence. He has the

vitality of the grizzly bear. Mountain goats, as the cowboy said of

the western horse thieves, “take a lot of killing.”

This same day I saw a number of goats abreast coming head foremost

down a nearly vertical smooth wall; they had complete composure. They

appeared to be putting on brakes with hoofs and dew claws. Loose

stones which they occasionally started might have been serious or

fatal for one in the lead had they been descending single file. As

soon as they reached a ledge at the bottom they stopped to look round,

and one of them stood up on hind toes to eat moss from an overhanging

rock. Two near-by goats of another flock were limping badly. Possibly

they had been struck by flying stones, or they may have been injured

by a fall. These two accidents appear to be the ones most likely to

befall this or any other mountain climber.

The white Rocky Mountain goat really is the wild mountain climber. Of

all the big animals or the small ones that I know, none can equal him

in ascending smooth and extremely precipitous rock walls. That

mountain climbing organization of the Pacific Coast which calls itself

“Mazama,” meaning mountain goat, has an excellent title and one

peculiarly fitting for mountain climbers on the icy peaks of the

Northwest.

Like all good mountain climbers the goat is sure-footed and has feet

that are fit. His stubby black hoofs have a dense, rubbery, resilient

broad heel. The outer shell of the hoof is hard, but I think not so

hard as the hoofs of most animals.

One season in Alaska I came close upon a party of seven mountain goats

in the head of a little cañon. I supposed them cornered and, advancing

slowly so as not to frighten them unduly, I thought to get close. They

at once made off without any excitement. At a moderate pace they

deliberately proceeded to climb what might be called a smooth,

perpendicular wall. It leaned not more than ten or twelve degrees from

the vertical. There were a few tiny root clusters on it and here and

there a narrow ledge. After a short distance the goats turned to the

right, evidently following a cleavage line, and climbed diagonally for

two hundred feet. They went without a slip. Most of the time they were

climbing two abreast; occasionally they were three abreast. Each,

however, kept himself safely away from the others. As they approached

the top they climbed single file, old billy leading.

This last climb proved to be the most ticklish part of the ascent. The

one leading stood on hind toes with breast pressed close against the

cliff and reached up as far as he could with fore feet. He felt of the

rocks until he found a good foothold and clinging place, then putting

his strength into fore legs literally drew up his body. His hind feet

then secured holds and held all gained. Again and again he stood on

his toes and reached upward, caught a foothold, and pulled himself up.

Just before going over the skyline he reached up with front feet, but

apparently found no secure place. He edged along the wall a foot or

two to the left and tried, but not satisfied with what he found, edged

several feet to the right. Here, squatting slightly, he made a leap

upward, caught with his fore hoofs, drew himself up, and stood on the

skyline. After two or three seconds he moved on, faced about, and

closely watched the others. Each goat in turn, daringly, slowly, and

successfully followed his precipitous course.

John Burroughs says that a fox is a pretty bit of natural history on

legs. The mountain goat is just the reverse. I have never seen a big

animal which, both in outline and action, is so much the embodiment of

stiffness and clumsiness, just block-headed, lumbering wood sections.

The fox is alert, keen, quick, agile, slender, graceful, and deft, and

looks all these parts.

The goat is a trifle smaller than the mountain sheep. The weight of a

full-grown male is about two hundred and fifty pounds. He has a heavy

body, high shoulders, and retiring hind quarters; he somewhat

resembles a small buffalo. His odd head is attached to a short neck

and is carried below the line of the shoulders. He has a long face and

an almost grotesque beard often many inches long. The horns are nearly

black, smooth, and slender. They grow from the top of the head, curve

slightly outward and backward for eight or ten inches, and end in a

sharp point. The horns of both sexes are similarly developed and are

used by both with equal skill. The goat’s hair, tinged with yellow but

almost white, is of shaggy length.

In running he is not speedy. His actions are those of an overfat,

aged, and rheumatic dog. He appears on the verge of a collapse. Every

jump is a great effort and lands far short of the spot aimed at.

Nearly all graceful movements were omitted in his training. Nearly all

the actions of this woodeny fellow suggest that a few of his joints

are too loose and that most of the others are too tight. He gets up

and lies down as though not accustomed to working his own levers and

hinges.

Many times I have seen a goat trying in an absurd, awkward manner,

after lying down, to remove bumps or stones from beneath him. Holding

out one or more legs at a stiff angle, he would claw away with one of

the others at the undesired bump. Sometimes he would dig off a chunk

of sod; other times a stone or two would be dislodged and pushed out.

It seems to be a part of his ways and his habits not to rise to do

this, or even to seek a better place. However, an acquaintance with

his home territory gives one a friendly feeling for him. After seeing

him composedly climbing a pinnacle, apparently accessible only to

birds, one begins to appreciate a remarkable coördination of head and

foot work.

Although the goat appears clumsy he is the animal least likely to

slip, to stumble, to miss his footing or to fall. While the mountain

sheep perhaps excels him in zigzag drop and skip-stop down precipitous

places, nothing that I have seen equals the wild goat when it comes to

going up slopes smooth and almost vertical. His rock and ice work are

one hundred per cent efficient.

When it comes to what you may call durability the goat is in the front

ranks. He can climb precipices and pinnacles all day long and in every

kind of weather. When not otherwise engaged he plays both on roomy

levels and unbanistered precipice fronts. He is ever fit, always

prepared. From the view-point of many hunters the grizzly bear, the

mountain sheep, and the mountain goat are almost in a class by

themselves. They exact a high standard of endurance and skill from the

hunter who goes after them.

These wild white goats are found only in the mountains of northwestern

United States, western Canada, and Alaska where the majority live on

high mountain ranges above the timberline. The goat is a highlander.

Excepting the few along the northwest coast which come down to near

sea level, they live where a parachute would seem an essential part of

their equipment.

Many high mountains are more storm-swept than the land of the Eskimo.

Storms of severity may rage for days, making food-getting impossible.

But storms are a part of the goat’s life; he has their transformed

energy. He also has his full share of sunshine and calm. Though up

where winter wind and storm roar wildest, he is up where the warm

chinook comes again and again and periods of sunshine hold sway. He is

fond of sunshine and spends hours of every fit day lying in sunny,

sheltered places.

During prolonged storms goats sometimes take refuge in cave-like

places among rock ledges or among the thickly matted and clustered

tree growths at timberline. But most of the time, even during the

colder periods of winter, when the skyline is beaten and dashed with

violent winds and stormed with snowy spray, the goat serenely lives on

the broken heights in the sky. Warmly clad, with heavy fleece-lined

coat of silky wool, and over this a thick, long, and shaggy overcoat

of hair, he appears utterly to ignore the severest cold.

The goat thus is at home on the exacting mountain horizon of the

world. Glaciers are a part of his wild domain; cloud scenery a part of

his landscape. He lives where romantic streams start on their

adventurous journeys to mysterious and far-off seas; arctic flowers

and old snow fields have place in the heights he ever surveys; he

treads the crest of the continent and climbs where the soaring eagle

rests. The majority of goats are born, live, and die on peak or

plateau above the limits of tree life.

The goat distinctly shows the response of an animal to its

environment. Of course an animal that can live among cañons, ice, and

crags must be sure-footed, keen-eyed, and eternally wide-awake. He

must watch his step and watch every step. Again and again he travels

along narrow ridges where dogs would slide off or be blown overboard;

he lives in an environment where he is constantly in danger of

stepping on nothing or sliding off the icescape. Certain habits and

characteristics are exacted from the animal which succeeds on the

mountain tops. The goat’s rock and ice climbing skill, his rare

endurance, and his almost eternal alertness all indicate that he has

lived in this environment for ages. His deadly horns and his

extraordinary skill in using them show that at times he has to defend

himself against animals as well as compete with the elements.

Commonly the Rocky Mountain goat lives in small flocks of a dozen or

less, and his home territory does not appear to be a large one. Local

goats of scattered territories make a short, semi-annual migratory

journey and have different summer and winter ranges, but this appears

to be exceptional. They feed upon the alpine plants, dwarfed willows,

and shrubby growths of mountain slopes and summits. They may also eat

grass freely.

Bighorn sheep also live above the timberline. In some localities they

and the goat are found together. But sheep make occasional lowland

excursions, while goats stay close to the skyline crags and the

eternal snows, descending less frequently below the timberline except

in crossing to an adjoining ridge or peak. Among the other

mountain-top neighbours of the goat are ground squirrels, conies,

weasels, foxes, grizzly bears, lions, ptarmigan, finches, and eagles;

but not all of these would be found together, except in a few

localities.

The goat, in common with all the big, wide-awake animals that I know

of, has a large bump of curiosity. Things that are unusual absorb his

attention until he can make their acquaintance. A number of times

after goats had retreated from my approach, and a few times before

they had thought to move on, I discovered them watching me, peeping

round the corner of a crag or over a boulder. While thus intent they

did not appear to be animals with a place in natural history.

In crossing a stretch of icy slope on what is now called Fusillade

Mountain, in Glacier National Park, I sat down on the smooth steep

ice to control my descent and bring more bearing surface as a brake on

the ice. I hitched along. Pausing on a projecting rock to look round,

I discovered two goats watching me. They were within a stone’s toss.

Both were old and had long faces and longer whiskers, and both were

sitting dog fashion. They made a droll, curious appearance as they

watched me and my every move with absolute concentration.

I do not know how long the average goat lives. The few hunters who

have been much in the goat’s territory offer only guesses concerning

his age. One told me that he had shot a patriarchal billy that had

outlived all of his teeth and also his digestion. The old fellow had

badly blunted hoofs and was but little more than a shaggy,

skin-covered skeleton.

Although his home is a healthful one, the conditions are so exacting

and the winter storms sometimes so long, severe, and devitalizing,

that it is probable that the goat lives hardly longer than twelve or

fifteen years.

The goat is, I think, comparatively free from death by accidents or

disease. Until recently, when man became a menace, he had but few, and

no serious, enemies. Being alert and capable among the crags, and in

defense of himself exceedingly skillful with his deadly sharp horns,

he is rarely attacked by the lion, wolf, or bear. True, the kids are

sometimes captured by eagles.

There are a number of species of wild goats in the Old World--in

southern Europe, in many places in Asia and in northern Africa. The

white Rocky Mountain goat is the only representative of his species on

our continent. He is related to the chamois. Some scientists say that

this fellow is not a goat at all, but that he is a descendant of the

Asiatic antelope, which came to America about half a million years

ago. This classification, however, is not approved by a number of

scientists. The Rocky Mountain goat, _Oreamnos montanus_, is in no way

related to the American antelope, and it would take a post-mortem

demonstration to show the resemblance to the African species.

By any other name he would still be unique. Dressed in shaggy, baggy

knickerbockers, he is a living curiosity. I never see one standing

still without thinking of his being made up of odds and ends, of a

caricature making a ludicrous pretense of being alive and looking

solemn. And then I remember that this animal is the mountaineer of

mountaineers.