(_Antilocapra americana._)
The antelope family comprises many of the most beautiful and graceful
species among horned animals. When we behold the curiously twisted
horns of the sasin, the long, sharp horns of the pasan, the large,
spiral horns of the koodoo and the shorter horns of the eland, not to
mention the graceful bodies and limbs of these animals, we are led to
wonder at the extravagance of nature in furnishing such a variety of
appendages to these creatures.
By far the larger number of species of this family live in Africa and
Asia, where they have reached the highest development of structure.
They are not, like some families of mammals, confined to any one
particular locality, but are found on the plains and high up on the
mountains; in a country sparsely covered with vegetation and in the
thick forests; in marshes and bogs. In fact, they seem to inhabit all
varieties of country. While the family is thus diversified in habitat,
the different species are by no means so widely distributed, for while
some species, like the sasin, live only on the open plains, others,
like the chamois, live high up on the mountains, frequently above the
snow-line.
The subject of our sketch, the Prong-horned antelope (Antilocapra
americana), is not as large nor so strikingly horned as the other
animals which have been mentioned. In fact, so different is its
structure, having hollow, pronged horns which do not increase by
continuous growth, as do those of the true antelopes, but are shed like
those of the deer family, and having a somewhat different structure of
feet and different texture of hair, that a family has been made for it
known as Antilocapridae.
The Prong-horn ranges throughout the western part of North America from
the Missouri river to the Pacific ocean, and from the Saskatchewan
river south to the Rio Grande. It is not confined to the plains, but
has been found in the wild valleys of the Rocky mountains to a height
of over eight thousand feet above sea level.
The daily life of this interesting animal is thus described by
Canfield, who made an exhaustive study of them and who also kept
them in captivity: "From the first of September to the first of
March one always sees them in larger groups composed of bucks, does
and yearlings. Shortly afterward the does individually retire from
these herds and give birth to their young. After a short interval
they again unite with other suckling does and their little calves,
possibly with a view to common defense against the wolf and coyotes.
The adult bucks roam about singly or two together, leaving the mothers
with their latest progeny to their fate, the young Prong-horns in the
meantime gathering in groups of their own apart from the older animals.
Apparently tired of the world and bored by society the old bucks
wander about for one or two months, frequenting localities in which
they are not ordinarily seen. Two or three months subsequently the
adolescent bucks again join the old does and their calves, and finally
the old bucks also put in an appearance, so that one can observe herds,
numbering hundreds, or sometimes even thousands, after the first of
September. A herd never leaves its native locality or roams over more
than a few miles of range. In dry summer weather they seek water and go
to drink regularly once a day or twice in three days; but if the grass
is fresh and green, as is the case during the greater part of the year,
the Prong-horns do not drink at all."
The food of the antelope consists to a great extent of the short,
succulent herbage of the prairie, of moss, and also, to a limited
extent, of the young and tender branches of trees. Like many other
ruminants, this animal is passionately fond of salt and they will
remain about saline deposits for many hours, satisfying themselves by
licking the salty ground.
The antelope is the swiftest runner of any animal in North America,
though perhaps less agile and speedy than some of its relatives in the
old world. It has been said by competent observers that so swiftly do
they run that it is absolutely impossible to distinguish their limbs.
The senses of the antelope are unusually developed. Their sight is
exceedingly keen and their hearing very acute. Their sense of smell
is so well developed that no danger can possibly approach from the
windward side. When a herd is feeding, sentinels are placed on the
outskirts to scent any impending danger, and to give due warning to the
herd. Their curiosity is one of their most peculiar qualities and seems
to overshadow every other sense.
For a number of years this graceful animal has been considered royal
game for the sportsman and a good round-up of antelopes is considered a
great achievement among hunters. Mr. G. O. Shields, in his interesting
book, "Hunting in the Great West," very vividly describes a hunt for
antelopes, and we cannot better illustrate the peculiarities of the
animal than by giving his pen sketch:
"We had heard from some ranchmen along the way that the buffalo herd
was at this time grazing about fifteen to twenty miles up the Big
Porcupine, and knowing that antelopes are nearly always found hanging
on the outskirts of every large herd of bison, we were on the look-out
for them, for it would not seem at all strange to find them near the
stage trail on which we were traveling. We scanned the country closely
with the field glass and were finally rewarded by seeing a number
of small white spots on the dead grass away up the Porcupine, that
seemed to be moving. We rode toward them at a lively trot for perhaps a
mile, and then stopped to reconnoitre again. From this point we could
plainly distinguish them, though they looked to be about the size of
jack rabbits. We again put the rowels to our donkeys and rode rapidly
up to within about a mile of them, when we picketed our animals in a
low swale, took out our antelope flag--a piece of scarlet calico about
half a yard square--attached it to the end of my wiping stick, and were
ready to interview the antelopes.
"I crawled to the top of a ridge within plain view of the game, and
planted my flag. The breeze spread it out, kept it fluttering, and
it soon attracted their attention. They were then near the bank of
the river, grazing quietly, but this bit of colored rag excited their
curiosity to a degree that rendered them restive, anxious, uneasy, and
they seemed at once to be seized with an insatiable desire to find out
what it was. An antelope has as much curiosity as a woman, and when
they see any object that they don't quite understand, they will travel
miles and run themselves into all kinds of danger to find out what it
is. They have been known to follow an emigrant or freight wagon with
a white cover several miles, and an Indian brings them within reach
of his arrow by standing in plain view wrapped in his red blanket.
Some hunters "flag" them by lying down on their back, holding one foot
as high as possible, and swinging it to and fro. A piece of bright
tin or a mirror answers the same purpose on a clear day. Almost any
conspicuous or strange-looking object will attract them, but the most
convenient, as well as the most reliable at all times, is the little
red flag, such as we employed in this instance.
"Huffman went to the top of another ridge, to my right and some
distance in advance, and Jack crawled into a hollow on the left, and
well in advance, we three forming a half circle, into which it was our
intention if possible to decoy the game. When they first discovered
our flag they moved rapidly toward it, sometimes breaking into a trot,
but when they had covered half the distance between us and their
starting point, they began to grow suspicious and stopped. They circled
around, turned back, walked a few steps, and then paused and looked
back at the, to them, mysterious apparition. But they could not resist
its magic influence. Again they turned and came toward it, stopped,
and gazed curiously at it. The old buck who led the herd stamped
impatiently, as if annoyed at being unable to solve the mystery. Then
they walked cautiously toward us again, down an incline into a valley,
which took them out of our sight, and out of sight of the flag. This
of course rendered them still more impatient, and when they again came
in sight on the next ridge, they were running. But as soon as their
leader caught sight of the flag, he stopped, as did the others in
their turn when they reached the top of the ridge. There were seven in
the herd, two bucks, three does and two fawns. They were now not more
than a hundred yards from me, and still less from the other two of our
party. Their position was everything we could wish, and though we might
possibly have brought them a few yards nearer, there was a possibility
of their scenting us, even across the wind, which, of course, we had
arranged to have in our favor, and I decided that rather than run the
risk of this and the consequent stampede, I would shoot while I had a
good chance. It had been arranged that I was to open the ball, so I
drew my peep and globe sights down very finely, taking the white breast
of the old buck for my bull's-eye, and pulled. Huffman's Kennedy and
Jack's carbine paid their compliments to the pretty visitors at almost
the same instant, and for about two or three minutes thereafter we
fanned them about as vigorously as ever a herd got fanned under similar
circumstances. The air was full of leaden missiles; the dry dust raised
under and around the fleeing herd as it does when a team trots over a
dusty road. Clouds of smoke hung over us, and the distant hills echoed
the music of our artillery until the last white rump disappeared in the
cottonwoods on the river bank.
"When the smoke of battle cleared away, and we looked over the field,
we found that we had not burned our powder in vain. Five of the little
fellows, the two bucks and three does, had fallen victims to their
curiosity. The two fawns had, strangely enough, escaped, probably only
because they, so much smaller than their parents, were less exposed."
The antelope have a curious way of protecting their young, when on the
open prairie. This is accomplished by placing a ring of sharp-pointed
cacti about a spot which has been beaten smooth by their hoofs. Inside
this ample protection the animal cares for its young and secures
ingress and egress for itself by jumping over the ring of cacti. This
serves to protect them from the majority of their foes, which inhabit
the open country.
The antelope does not thrive well in captivity, the older ones soon
killing themselves in their attempts to escape. The young taken soon
after their birth generally die early, unless very special care is
bestowed upon them, and even if they survive the juvenile state, they
are very likely to die when three or four months old, from pyaemic
sores or inflammation of the limbs.