Chapter XIV
Still-Hunting On Open Ground

 

  Much of the best deer-hunting now to be found in the western half of the United States is upon ground either quite bare or entirely bare of timber. Not only are many first-rate deer-ranges nearly or totally destitute of timber, but even where there is plenty of timber the deer will sometimes leave it and take the open ground. In summer and early autumn they will often be found on the prairie miles away from timber (though they may go to the timber at night), lying during the day in the long grass of the sloughs and swales, feeding and standing at evening and in the morning along the 'slopes, on the knolls, in the hollows, or moving toward the timber or away from it. The bluffy ground along Western rivers and streams; the brushy ground that often lies between the timber and the prairie ; open table-lands cut with ravines; the brushy foot-hills of heavily timbered mountains; barren rocky-looking hills studded with boulders; even bare-looking hills on which you would think at a distant glance nothing could live, all these often afford excellent hunting.

  You must not forget that by "open country" I mean country bare only of timber and not clean or clear ground. On such clear ground as antelope generally love the deer will rarely be found. And when the deer does go upon such ground it is generally for only a portion of the day. Antelope will, how- ever, sometimes go upon ground containing considerable brush or scrub timber if it is thin enough to allow them to pass through it without touching it too much, such as the cactus and sage-brush covered parts of plains and deserts. And on such ground the deer may be sometimes found in the company of his handsome cousin. But the open country that is generally worth hunting at all for deer is too brushy for antelope. It is generally covered with brush, long grass, or something from knee-high up to above the height of your head, with plenty of cover in the sloughs, swales, gulches, basins, pockets, and valleys. If cover be wanting on the ridges these sloughs and gulches, etc., must contain it or there will be few or no deer, as the animal will have cover somewhere.

  Upon all such ground that is worth hunting at all there is generally far more cover that can completely conceal the body of a deer than there is in such timber as is worth still-hunting. So that ground which, if timbered, would afford very poor still-hunting may, when open, afford very good; the reason of which we shall see as we go on. But to insure such result the open ground should be quite rolling, even more rolling than is necessary to success in timber. Or if it is of the nature of table-land it should be well cut up with brushy gulches, valleys, basins, and pockets, etc. If the ground be too level the deer will have the immense advantage of being in cover that conceals all but part of his head when it is upraised, while the whole upper part of your body is often in his plain view. And his head is often so nearly the color of the brush that it is hard to see, and it will be generally too small a mark to hit if you do see it.

  The daily life of a deer in such ground varies little from his life in the woods. He is, however, more apt to lie in valleys and under an occasional tree along an open hill-side than when in the woods, and will often take denser brush to lie down in. But as a rule, deer will move from their feeding and watering ground to higher, rougher, and more brushy ground to lie down on. And much hunting will surely drive them to higher and rougher ground and thicker brush.

  Upon such ground deer are much more apt to travel in paths. In the Spanish-American States and Territories there are numerous cattle-trails which deer are quite certain to travel; on which tracking is mere play as long as they keep the trail; and where there are no cattle they are apt to make trails or run- ways of their own up the bottom or along the sides of valleys and across or along the ridge between two valleys. In open ground one can still-hunt often summer and early fall, while in the woods he would have to await the falling of the leaves for good success.

  Here, too, water is often much scarcer than in timber, and often the water-holes are the very best places to go to first to find the direction deer have taken. Sometimes this kind of ground will have bush acorns, but if there are none the deer will find food enough in the leaves and twigs of the brush; so that if there is enough green bush in sight you need not allow the question " What is there for them to live on ?" to trouble you in the least. But should there be any groves of oaks or other nut or fruit bearing trees, the fruit of which deer love, such groves will be quite sure to concentrate the game when the nuts or fruits are ripe.

  Even at the risk of being considered tedious, I have tried to force upon the learner the extreme importance of seeing a deer before he sees the hunter, and the extreme difficulty, in the majority of cases, of doing this. If the learner thinks me tedious, I know not what he will think of experience if he waits for that to force this truth upon him. Now in open ground this importance and this difficulty are not a whit less than in timber. Where deer are very plenty the wider and longer range of view may enable one to see something sooner than in the woods; but where they are only moderately plenty, or at all scarce, it generally becomes, in such open ground as is worth hunting at all, quite as difficult to see them as it is in the woods. And often, as in case of the chaparral deer, it is even more difficult.

  To see deer well in open ground involves not only all the care and acuteness of sight necessary in the woods, but needs some special care.

  Some natural mistakes are often made by the hunter trained in the woods when he first tries the open ground.
 

    1.st. He does not look far enough away.
    2. Nd. He does not look close enough by.
    3. Rd. He forgets that the advantage he has of wide range of vision is enjoyed also by his game.

 

  He is apt to be scanning the ground too much from one hundred to two hundred yards away, and lets a little dark or brown spot of life on a hill-side half or three quarters of a mile away entirely escape his eye. And many a deer standing in brush within fifty yards of him may either stand still and let him pass by, knowing that he does not see him, or he may slip quietly out of it and, with head and tail both down low, vanish down some little ravine like a snake gliding over velvet.

  A deer, too, on this kind of ground can see a man almost as far as an antelope can, and often nearly as quickly. And he can here distinguish a man at rest or motionless much quicker than he can in the woods. Hence caution in showing your head over a ridge becomes even more important than it does in the woods.

  Some of the advantages that the hunter here has over a deer are very great. Aided by a glass, or even by his naked eye if he takes proper care and hunts when the game is on foot, he can discover a deer before it sees him at a distance so great that there is little danger of immediately alarming it. He can then decide what are his prospects for getting closer, and settle upon the best modes of approach. He can tell what the game is doing, how long it will be likely to remain where it is, which way it will be likely to go, and about where to find it if it shall have moved while he is approaching it. He can calculate its distance better, get a better opportunity for a good rest for a long shot, have a better prospect for several shots, and can see more of the missing balls strikeground, and by their aid correct his errors of elevation, etc. He has also a much better opportunity to head off game that has been started, or get a shot at it by a sudden dash, and to put himself in the path of game that he sees moving anywhere toward him. His prospects, too, for following up game that has been started are often so good that it often rewards his pains, where in the woods certain failure would be the result. But the great advantage, especially for one who has arrived at that period of life when he discovers that work is not an indispensable ingredient of the pleasure of hunting, is in often being able to hunt a vast number of acres with the eye while the body is in a state of blissful repose upon some sunny rock or shady point; the spirits meanwhile being kept in a state of elegant tranquillity by the reflection that just at hand is a saddle for which to exchange that rock when you wish to move on.

  On the whole, it may be said that the open ground is generally the best for the lazy hunter and the bungler, and out of an equal number of deer to the square mile much the best for success. On the other hand, the woods give scope to the greater skill and care, and give a deeper satisfaction to him who values game more for the skill required to bag it than as a thing to eat or boast of.

  On this kind of ground you will be very apt to be the victim of a new trick. In the woods you found that evanescence was the invariable rule of action with all deer as soon as they discovered you. But you will now meet a deer that will hide or skulk silently away in brush quite as often perhaps as he will try to avoid you by running. All kinds of deer when inhabiting very dense cover learn, as nearly all wild animals do, that skulking out of sight is just as effective as running, and much cheaper. The reason we have so far seen no skulking deer was that in woods open enough for successful still-hunting there is not enough thick cover to hide a deer from a man only a few yards off. But on such open ground as is worth hunting there is generally considerable of such cover, and in many places you cannot get high enough above it to see down into it. This cover a deer knows at once. Hence the same deer that in the woods will start at the faintest crack of a twig two hundred yards away, when he goes to the dense brush on the edge of the timber, the long slough grass of the prairies, or the chaparral of the open hills, may let you walk within ten yards of him without moving. He may be lying down and continue lying perfectly still, as a wild-cat, fox, or coyote often does in cover. He may be feeding and simply drop his head and neck out of sight and stand still. Or he may be running with high elastic bounds, then suddenly, on reaching the right kind of brush, drop into a low sneaking trot, then come to a walk, and then stand still with head down and body motionless. In Southern California deer that will weigh a hundred and fifty pounds can almost sneak out of sight in a potato-patch. Well as I know the trick and their capacity for playing it, I am yet occasionally amazed by seeing them disappear in brush scarcely waist-high. In following up wounded ones in brush not over waist-high I have frequently been unable to catch sight of them, although I could hear them start and run only a few yards ahead. And yet the natural gait of these deer is a bound, or rather bounce, so high that a buck will often throw his whole body, legs and all, clear of brush five or six feet high. This is a trick that there seems no good way of circumventing. Where you know a deer is hiding from you, you may sometimes get on higher ground and see a bit of his jacket ; or you may sit down and wait for him to move. But there seems no way to make him stir unless you send a dog in after him. Breaking of brush, slapping of hands, bleating, stone-throwing, etc. etc., will seldom avail. Sometimes giving them your scent will .move them; but when they once get in good brush with the intention of hiding they will rarely move for anything but a dog. Consequently you gain nothing in such ground by making a noise in walking. For you can move nothing that has intended to hide, but may move several deer that would have known nothing of your approach if you had kept still. It is impossible to estimate the proportion of deer that will thus hide, as in most cases we know nothing of them. A deer, too, may hide to-day and let you pass within five yards of him that to-morrow, on ground equally good, will start two hundred yards from you and run a mile without stopping. Nor do deer always confine this trick to dense brush. On tolerably open ground where the only brush consisted of isolated clumps of sumac and other bushes fifteen or twenty feet, or even as many yards, apart I have repeatedly known them lie without moving in these clumps of bushes while I passed all around them in their wind, sight, hearing, etc. A thoroughly trained dog that can be trusted a few yards from your heels is the best thing for such cases, as often you cannot rouse the deer without kicking in the very bush where it happens to be. There is no reason why a well-bred pointer or setter cannot be broken to point deer as well as birds. I broke a fox- hound puppy to do it, and have seen him make as fair a point as ever a dog made on a woodcock, except that he sat up instead of straightening out.

  While you must always, in hunting such ground, bear in mind the possibility of deer thus hiding, you must still govern all your actions and movements by the presumption that they will act as you have seen them do in the woods. For this will be the greatest difficulty you will have to meet. The deer that hide may as well be counted out. Your bag must be made up from the number of those that would run away or which you can catch without giving them an opportunity to consider what they will do.

  It is still more expedient than in case of timber- deer to hunt these open-country deer during the time of day when they are on foot. For they are a beast of exceeding perversity and scorn all the hundred and one nice places that you select for them to lie in. Moreover, they will, especially when much hunted, lie so much in heavy brush that you can rarely get a good shot if you do start one from his bed. Besides this they are much more apt to skulk if lying down when they hear you than if standing. Nevertheless, when deer are keeping on ground covered only with isolated clumps of high brush, whether on the ridges or in valleys, excellent sport may often be had by jumping them. Especially is this so where one is a good tracker on bare ground, or there is snow enough to track by.

  Much more advantage can be taken of the running-time in open ground because a running deer can be seen at so much greater distance. Good speed must, however, be made, if you have any distance to go, to get ahead on the course of a running deer.

  On open ground it is quite as essential to distinguish the night beds and tracks from those made by day as it is in timber. For at night a deer is seldom afraid to go anywhere, and will jump the fence of a garden that he will be a mile away from at daybreak.

  So, too, noise must be avoided as far as possibly consistent with proper speed. A careless walker will indeed get shots at deer in Open country where in the woods with the same amount of noise he would not get even a sight of them. So even the best of hunters must often make a noise in the brush of open ground. But though, on account of the greater distances of game, etc., in open ground, noise is not so fatal to success as in the woods, it still does no good and may do harm. Where a noisy hunter sees one deer, two slip away without his dreaming of their existence.

  The question of wind is sometimes more important and at other times less important than in the woods. A canon, valley, or even a hill may alter the course of the wind that a moment ago you thought you had in your face. And a cafion carries the wind farther and faster than any current in the woods. On ridges, etc., it is of not so much consequence, as the currents of the intermediate valleys will generally keep the scent from crossing from ridge to ridge. The distance, too, at which game may be seen often makes it of less importance than it is in the woods where the distances are less.

  The question of sun is here of more importance than anywhere else. And where your game must be seen at very long distances, as on long rolling prairie- or table-land, or long wavy hills without much elevation, everything else should often be sacrificed to it.

  The "lay of the land" is here quite as important to learn as it is in the woods. And what is known as “the run of the deer" is even more so, for it is more variable. You must be careful how you decide that there is no game until you have searched not only different kinds of ground, different kinds of brush, but especially different elevations. I have often found fine-looking ground bare of deer, and a mile away found plenty on the same kind of ground. But they were a thousand feet higher up. In the cold nights of fall and winter the elevation often is very important. The belt or stratum of warmest air lies between five hundred and two thousand feet above sea-level, the valleys being very cold as well as the very high land. During the night and during the time deer stand in the morning sun they will be more apt to be found along this belt than anywhere else.

Chapter XV
Deer On Open Ground

 

   Perhaps the most important question in hunting open country is where to walk, on high or low ground. This must not be confounded with the question of where to hunt, on high or low elevations a question, as we have seen, can in general be satisfactorily answered only by an actual inspection of the ground itself as all ground worth hunting must be examined. But having selected the elevation of ground which contains the most game, then arises the question, where shall I walk, on high or low ground?

  Very good authority says, " Always keep on high ground." As we have seen, this is nearly always the best plan in the woods. But for open country the advice is bad, because stated without the exceptions, which are fully equal to the rule itself. As watch- towers, as shields behind which to approach your game without it seeing you, ridges and hills are so essential that if there are none you may generally pronounce the ground worthless for still-hunting game at all wild, especially antelope. But it by no means follows that one should do most of his walking on the high ground.

  Where the ridges are low and the valleys narrow, it is generally best to keep upon the ridges nearly all of the time, certainly during the time the deer are on foot. And where the ridges are low and the intervening valleys are so narrow that you will not have to take too long shots at anything running from the valley up the opposite ridge, then it is better to remain on the ridges even during such time as the deer are lying down. But when the ridges are high and the valleys broad between them, then it may be folly to hunt upon the ridges at all, even during the time when the deer are on foot.

 

   Two things must determine your choice of elevation for walking:
    1.st. Where are the most deer keeping, in the valleys or on the ridges ?
    2.nd. From which ground can I the more easily approach and get a shot at them, the high or low ?

 

  If the valleys are of any breadth at the bottom say from forty or fifty yards upward and contain good feed or browse, which, as well as water, they will be quite apt to contain, then the greater number of deer, if not much disturbed, will often be found in the valley at all times of the day. Especially will this be the case where the valley is several hundred yards and more in width. So also they may often be found all day in valleys so narrow at the bottom as to be mere ravines, as is often the case in stormy weather.

  On the other hand, if the hills are well broken into brushy gulches, basins, and pockets, the deer will be quite likely to prefer them to the valleys, and if much hunted will be quite certain to do so. The warm belt mentioned in the last chapter, and other questions heretofore discussed, will go far to determine this matter, although it cannot be definitely decided in any way; and there will nearly always be some deer in both places, the only question being as to the preponderance.

  Suppose now the deer are in the valleys and the hills are high ; the deer are on foot and you are on the hills. You see a deer feeding in the valley, but he is at least a hundred yards from the foot of the hill, and the hill is nearly two hundred yards high.

  This makes the distance too long for accurate shooting even on a level, and a down-hill shot of that length is the very worst you could have.

  You will get closer then, will you? Very good. But you will rarely do it by going down the hill on the valley side. Of all ways to approach a deer the worst is down hill in his sight, unless the hill be such that you can slide yourself down it sitting or lying down. And even that is bad enough. Either deer or antelope can see anything above them about as quickly as they can anything below; at all events, quickly enough. In sneaking down hill you show more of your body than in crawling up hill, make quicker motions, cannot hide behind trees and bushes so well, and cannot stop yourself so quickly when a deer raises his head as when you are going up hill. Another very important point is that a deer on low ground can often notice any motion above him quite as well when his head is down as when it is up. But if you are below him on a hill-side he can rarely notice you when his head is down. Deer cannot, indeed, either smell or hear you so well when you are above them, but the difference is not enough, in case of high hills and long slopes, to outweigh the difference in the advantage they have for seeing you. On the whole, never try to creep down hill upon deer, and especially upon antelope, if you can possibly get a shot in any other way. Your chances are but little better, even when the hill-side is covered with timber, unless there are very thick trunks behind which to move. Going down hill one is apt to think himself unseen because he does not- see the deer. But the deer, meanwhile, sees his legs.

  So you conclude, then, that you will go down the back side of the hill and get into the valley in that way. This is well enough ; but stop a moment. That valley is some three hundred yards in width at the bottom. It is covered more or less with bushes higher than your head. There are indeed plenty of openings in all directions, the bushes being only scattered clumps. But when you get down there all will look alike. Before you can find your deer he may move or get into cover, and while looking for him you may start another one or two that you have not seen from the hill. So you see that, everything else being right such as the wind, quiet walking, etc. you might about as well have been in the valley at first as to have taken all the trouble to climb this high hill. And such you will find to be the general rule where deer are at all plenty and the low ground is suitable for walking. Of course if the low ground is brushy, and especially if noisy, or if it is too bare of cover to protect you from a deer's eyes, or if you cannot get the wind in your face, you should keep the high ground. And where deer are very scarce the high ground is best, as your chances of seeing one at all are so slender that you need every advantage to see it. In hunting among isolated clumps of thick bushes with good openings between for easy walking and a view of a hundred or a hundred and fifty yards in most directions, one has, even on level ground, a fair chance to catch deer on foot feeding before they see him, This is in fact about the only level ground worth still-hunting at all. And even there the clumps of brush must be thick, and there should be a good breeze in your face. Then the valley will generally be the best place to walk.

  So far we have considered deer on foot in the low ground. Its advantages for walking when deer are lying down are often much greater. Unless you have the aid of snow as a background it is almost impossible to see deer lying down in a valley; for if the day be warm the deer will certainly lie in the shade either of a bush or trees, in either of which cases you will have a task to see them if you are on the hills. Moreover, if the hills are high they probably will not start from their beds even if they see you. And if they do start you are at a great disadvantage. You probably will not jump them close enough for any sort of a shot, and they will be almost certain to run across the valley or up or down it all bad shots for one on the hill. On the other hand, if you are in the valley you will be quite certain to start them, and they will be quite apt to give you a fair shot; for a deer running from something in a valley is quite apt to run up hill, and when running up hill a deer is quite apt to stop two or three times in going up, and is almost sure to stop at the top for a final look. If you are on a hill and start a deer, it is because he sees you and knows exactly what you are. He has no more curiosity, and is concerned only about effecting his disappearance. But if you are in the valley and he starts, it is nearly always because he hears you. In such case he does not know certainly what made the noise and has a strong desire to know, to which desire, if not too much hunted, he will be apt to yield.

  In a valley, however, the wind is quite certain to be moving one way or the other, and you may have to go around to the head of it and come down it a proceeding that may not be profitable unless you are certain that deer are in there. If a deer escapes you in a valley, you have no chance to get another shot with a quick dash as you often have in the hills; and you are also often deprived of that wide range of vision so essential when deer are scarce. But then you have a full view of the hill-sides, which, even when very bare, steep, or rocky, are often fine places for deer to stand and sun themselves.

  But suppose the valley to have broad sloping sides, furrowed with little ravines, sprinkled perhaps with occasional bushes or trees. It may now be best to take the hill-side part of the way up, where you can get a good downward view, and a good forward and upward view along the slope. This will generally be far the best place to walk, for then the deer will be as apt to be on the slopes as in the valley. Especially is this the best place when the main valley splits up into little side-valleys, and these again into smaller ravines and pockets, or when there are little plateaus along the slopes. And even when the hills are quite steep, if the walking be good it is often best to wind into all these small valleys about half-way up the hill. For the wind almost invariably draws into such places from the main valley.

  If the deer are in a table-land where the ravines and basins are not too deep and wide then the edges of these will be the best places to walk, and one need rarely go into them unless when the deer are lying down, in which case (unless the ravines are narrow and shallow) your best chance is in them. Not only is bare tracking generally easier on open ground, but much more use can be made of tracks. You can see at a much greater distance the particular kinds of ground which deer are apt to frequent at different times of day. You can see far away the "divides" over or along which trails will be apt to pass, and can take short-cuts to them. When you reach that part of the trail that shows the deer are near at hand, you can sit down and wait for them to show themselves. When you find tracks leading to a certain basin of any size, and see no other ground near it better adapted for lying-down ground, you may feel a certainty that they are there. Not only are the tracks themselves apt to be much more plainly visible than they are in the woods, but you have an immense increase in the ease of following tracks by direction. When deer start on a general course, as from a spring, you can tell very nearly where they will pass half a mile away although the trail itself may meander considerably. And where trails are hard to follow, or it becomes necessary to leave the trail often to avoid noise or being seen, or because the deer watch back, or because the trail has reached a place where they may have stopped and you want to get on the highest ground to look, such advantages are immense. A person of quick comprehensive mind for topography will soon use most of these advantages in timber, and in fact they must be used by the successful tracker. But even such a person will find the advantages of the open ground immense.

  In hunting open ground you must, quite as much as in the woods, avoid looking for a deer. But spend all your time in looking at spots, patches, shades in brush, dark shadowy spots by the side of bushes, everything gray, yellowish, reddish, brownish, or blackish. Even white spots must not be overlooked, for some varieties of deer show considerable white behind, and all show a little even with tail down. Nothing must be passed by with a careless glance because its shape is not that of a deer. If it has the color of a deer, give it a second and third look no matter what the shape. If it has the shape of the game, give it a second and third look without regard to its color. If you are in any doubt whether a thing be a deer or not and have no glass, either get closer without its seeing you or wait a while and see if it moves. But beware always how you decide that any dubious thing is not a deer. The chances are hundreds to one against any particular spot or shape being a deer. Yet all the danger of error lies in deciding in the negative. The novice is quick to say, "Oh, that's no deer," and pass along. It takes the experienced hunter to say, " I really believe that's a deer." Once in a while a shot may be thrown away upon a rock or stump or shade, but such is a far better course than to be always too prompt with a negative decision. This presupposes due care to see that the object be not a person a mistake no good hunter ever makes unless someone is fool enough to be out hunting with a deer's hide or head, etc.

  When the sun is out nothing that shines or glistens should escape your notice. When you are between the sun and the deer, as you should be if possible, there will seldom be any sheen from his coat or horns, though you can see him then much more plainly. But if he is between you and the sun, especially when the sun is near the horizon, a shiny spot where the sun strikes his back may be seen half a mile or more away when the body itself would not be noticed.

  So where a buck is standing in brush you may see nothing but two or more glistening points where the sunlight tips his horns, or you may see a faint line of light where it strikes the side of a tine. But do not forget that you may not be in position to see this sheen or glistening appearance, and consequently must not assume that where nothing shines toward the sun there is therefore no deer.

  In hunting antelope not only should every white and cinnamon spot as far away as it can be seen be investigated either with a glass or by waiting for its motion or going closer, but even gray and dark spots should receive attention. The head and neck of an antelope lying down are quite hard to see at a distance, none of the white of the body may show at all, and the cinnamon part may cast a far darker shade than you would expect to see.

  The habits of deer in open country will be found more variable than the habits of the timber-deer; mainly because the nature and face of the country varies more, as well as the nature, quantity, and accessibility of food, etc. Their habits will generally be varied more by hunting, there being generally a greater variety of cover, etc., in which to spend the day. In some places their daily range will be far greater than in others. Such things must be learned by inquiry from hunters or from careful observation in hunting, and often cannot be learned at all until it is too late to profit by them. But all such things I must pass by, even where I know them, as the general information necessary to be known will demand too much space to allow anything special or local to be stated to any extent.

Chapter XVI
A Day In The Table-Lands

 

   Having examined in the abstract still-hunting in open country, let us now consider it in the concrete. We will select for our hunt to-day the mesa, or tableland, that lies along the coast and covers much of the interior of Southern California. I select this because the deer that live on this are essentially open-country deer and not timber-deer happening in the open country. There are various theories here about deer shifting from the lowlands to the mountains and vice versa. But although this is true as to some deer, it is not as to the majority of the deer of the mesas, or table-lands, especially near the coast. Most of these deer remain there the year round, although they are of the same variety as the deer of the mountains. Like all deer they are, however, subject at times to a migratory mania without any apparent cause; but as to the majority of deer it is only at long intervals and without any regularity. This is a variety of the mule-deer, but somewhat smaller and shorter-legged than the mule-deer of the Rocky Mountains. This deer is often called the "black-tail," but Judge Caton, of the Illinois Supreme Court, a naturalist whose opinion is of more value than that of all the hunters in California, says it is a 'variety of the mule-deer, although having a black tail. Its usual gait when alarmed is a perfect ricochet, or bounce, all four feet being grouped close up as it rises and all striking the ground, not one after the other, but all at once, not with a touch as do the feet of the white-tailed or Virginia deer, but with a violent blow that sends the animal three or four feet in air in a twinkling. Though this is a tiresome gait, this deer will hold it with surprising speed for half a mile or even a mile or more. All ground is about alike to these deer, and either up or down hill, across gullies, over rocks, among boulders, through brush, or along steep hill-sides, they can accomplish a hundred per cent more of disappearance per second than any other animal that lives.

  Owing to the entire absence of persecution in the past and the comparatively small amount to which they are subjected now, these deer are mere block- heads compared with those of the Eastern woods, whose ancestors have been harried until wildness becomes a second nature transmissible to progeny, and whose natural wildness thus acquired has, from the spotted baby-jacket upward, been kept at the finest point of cultivation by the incessant crack of the still- hunter's rifle. Nevertheless they are wild enough by nature to make some care necessary; they become wild surprisingly quick when hunted a little, and even with the tamest of them the most scientific hunting is the most profitable. I shall therefore adhere to my general plan and consider them as if all very wild.

  The table-land we shall try today is quite bare in places; in other places it is covered with a dark cedar-like brush from waist-high to as high as your head. Here and there run valleys from fifty to four hundred feet deep. Some are narrow at the bottom; others are two hundred yards or more in width. Some are half a mile long; others are several miles long. All of them have plenty of arms and branches. And the top of the table-land contains numerous little ravines and swales leading into these valleys, and numerous brushy basins and plateaus along their edges caused by washes and slides in years of excessive rain.

  The first question is, Where shall we walk, upon the high ground or in the valleys ?

  We shall have little trouble to decide this question today. For the table-land is in many places too bare to contain any deer. -And this brush that you see is just dense enough to stop all the breeze yet admit most of the sun, so that at this time of year August, a month as good as any for still-hunting here the deer will not remain in it during the day. The deer are now in the valleys and the brushy basins and ravines leading into them. But the greater number are doubtless in the main valleys or their large branches, as they are very little disturbed here. Moreover, this brush is so high and level that we could not see a deer in it unless it were jumping, and we should probably see few in this way, as the greater number would simply skulk.

  Then how shall we hunt the valleys? By walking in them or along the edge of the table-land ?

  If it were no later than eight o'clock I should say keep the edge of the mesa here. For this valley before us is neither wide nor deep, and a hundred and fifty yards will be about the longest shot you would have to make. You can see everything in the valley so much better from the high ground that your chances there would have been best two hours ago. But we have come out too late today; the deer are now lying down in the valleys, and you cannot see them as they are in the shade. You might walk along the edge of the high ground and pass half a dozen lying close in the dark green shade of the sumacs and fusicas in the valley, watching you all the time and knowing that you do not see them. Now if you go down the valley you will be far more apt to start them; for though they will occasionally lie concealed in scattered brush and let you pass near them, the prevailing rule is quite the other way, provided you come close, say fifty or sixty yards. Though they will often lie in a bush and look at you at a hundred or a hundred and fifty yards away, they will seldom let you get as close as they often do in very thick brush.

  But even in this wild country there is such a vast number of acres to the deer and such exceedingly liberal measure given for an acre that it will not do to go rambling aimlessly about, trusting to fortune to start a deer. We will therefore go to a water-hole about half a mile down that valley and see if any deer watered there this morning, and, if so, which way they went when they left it. But as there is a chance of some deer being in this end of the valley, and as the wind blows up it from the sea, we will go down it just as carefully as if we knew some deer were in it.

  Winding down an old cattle-trail at its upper end we find ourselves in a little valley about a hundred yards wide at the widest points, about half filled with green bushes from four to eight or ten feet high, but containing plenty of open places, and a cattle-trail down the center that allows, quiet and easy walking.

  Here, you see, are deer-tracks and "sign" already, but they are yesterday's. Here have been a big buck, a doe, two fawns, and a smaller buck yesterday. Now be careful, for they may be here again to-day. Here, you see, are signs of two or three days ago, showing that they have spent several days here. But that very fact shows that it is just as likely they are not here today, for deer seldom spend over two or three days in exactly the same place. If they have been here that long they are more apt to be in some other part of the valley, half a mile or a mile away, or perhaps in some adjoining valley.

  A few minutes' walk brings us to a branch of the main valley which winds out of sight among the hills, and like the main valley is well filled with bright green brush. And here in the main trail we find two tracks of this morning.

  They are either does or young bucks, by the track. As we did not see their tracks above here, it is very likely they turned off into this branch. Examination of the ground shows that they have gone into the side valley, and no tracks are visible coming out.

  Now, although it involves more work, we had better swing around to the head of the side valley and come down it; for the wind, you see, blows up it, and the most certain way is to go around.

  We soon climb the hill, and taking the table-land follow the course of the little valley, keeping out of sight, however, of the bottom of it; for there is no prospect of the game being on foot now, and it has twenty times the chance of seeing us that we have of seeing it, and if it does see us we should probably not get a fair shot. But here and there the highland that forms the edge breaks into a little short gulch or pocket, filled more or less with brush, and into these we cautiously peep as we wind around their heads. Here's one now that is more brushy than usual, and a deer might lie in it without seeing you. Generally it is not necessary to do more than merely show yourself over the edge, or give a snort or bleat like a deer, or even a low whistle. A middling loud " Phew !" or " Mah !" is the best, as it is more apt to make a deer get up and look instead of running at once.

  Five or six of these side gulches are passed without seeing anything, and we reach the head of the main valley. Now let us wind carefully round the head of it and see if they have gone out, for they may have been going to another valley. A careful inspection shows no tracks. The ground is hard and dry, but in most places a track could be seen. Moreover, they would have been almost sure to travel this well-beaten cattle-trail that leads directly out of the head of the valley. They are probably in the valley; and now look out sharp for tracks when we get into it, but keep a good watch ahead. Make an inspection of the ground at the mouth of every side gulch or valley on the side opposite the one we came up.

  About two hundred yards below the head of the valley your eye catches a slight scrape on the dry ground. You notice it only by its shade of color, but it is an unmistakable scrape. Just beyond it are two or three more, and in one of them the points of a hoof have raised a faint rim of dry dirt. And, see, they lead, too, right toward a side gulch of consider- able length which terminates some two hundred yards up in a pocket. Follow them a little further, so as to be sure they lead in there, and then back out and swing around over the hill to the head of it; for you see the wind draws in there too. The valley here is not over a hundred and fifty feet deep, so that climbing the hill is soon over, and in a few minutes you are peering over into the pocket. But all is still. You show a little more of your head and shoulders, but nothing moves. Do you see that thick clump of dark green sumac in the bottom? Give a good " Phew !"

  Your " Phew!" is followed by an instant smash-crash, bump, bump, bump, and straight up the opposite side of the pocket go two airy creatures of yellowish brown, not running or even jumping, but me rely glancing from the ground like sunbeams from a mirror. You made your "-Phew !" too loud entirely, and you should have kept out of sight while you did it.

  Bang ! goes your repeater, and the dirt flies from the ground that one's feet have just left. Bang wang bang slang whang! it goes; the dirt flies in every direction around the glossy pelt, as with a regular bump, bump, bump, and all four feet grouped close together, they seem to merely skim the. ground like birds. But faster than you can send the hissing lead they clear the hill-side, and with a faint bump, bump, bump, and a dissolving view of shining white buttocks, they fade over its crest into the brush beyond.

  It is not quite so easy as it would appear to be to hit such vibratory beauty as that. They are a different institution from the deer you have heretofore seen, and are the hardest animal of their size to hit with the rifle when running.

  At the water-hole we find a few old-looking cattle- tracks in the edge and a few faint symptoms of old deer-tracks. But be not too hasty. Do you not see that all the ground for yards around has been run over by myriads of quails ? A dozen deer could have watered at that spring this morning, yet the ground might now show no sign of them. Let us circle around it fifty or a hundred yards or more away, examining carefully the sides and bottom of this branch valley that leads in here from one side. This branch runs toward another valley nearly parallel with this. That one contains no water, and even if it did deer would be quite likely to travel from one to the other. In so traveling they are quite certain to go up a gulch or cafion like this branch if it leads in that direction.

  There is a bright-looking spot of pretty fresh dirt along the water-course at the bottom of the gulch where something has broken down the dirt along its edge. It seems to have been done by a hoof, and done, too, this morning. A few yards farther on, plain as the stamp of a die upon lead, appears the track of a three-year-old buck, the smaller track of a two-year-old or a doe we cannot tell which and the track of a yearling or two. They are marching in Indian file right up the center of the gulch on one side of the dry sandy water-course in the center, occasion- ally crossing it, but generally keeping pretty close to it.

  Now you will notice there is little of the heavy bright green sumac or other shady bushes in this gulch. It is also narrow at the bottom, is exceedingly warm, and does not look very inviting as a place for deer to lie down in during the heat of the day. Moreover, deer when at all wild are not apt to lie down very near water, but go half a mile or a mile away. Therefore it is highly probable that they are not in this gulch at all. We can therefore climb up to the top and walk along the level ground to the head of this gulch feeling an almost positive assurance that we shall find the tracks of our deer emerging upon the table-land at the head of it. But on the way let us not forget that the deer delights in abusing the confidence of the hunter. Therefore, since it will be just as easy to take on our way an occasional peep over into the gulch, let us do so. If the deer are still on foot, as they may be, lounging slowly along, it being not yet very warm, we shall be quite apt to see them. And if we find no tracks coming out of the head of the gulch, we shall then know that they have been perverse enough to lie down in there. And we can then go down it with the wind in our faces, and start them in such a way as to get a pretty fair shot.

  We reach the head of the gulch, having seen nothing on the way, and there find no tracks. But wait. Do not start into the gulch too soon, on the assumption that the deer are lying in there. I did not tell you that the deer would emerge at the extreme point of it. There are three or four little ravines on each side, and some nice little ridges too, by which they could have walked out. Examine the ground for a hundred yards on each side, going back several yards into the brush; and look with great care, for all may not now be traveling together.

  On the other side, some fifty yards below the extreme point of the gulch, you find quite a trail leading out of a little ravine. "Just like a sheep-trail " you will probably report it when you go home, giving an ignorant person to believe there were forty or fifty deer using it. But the whole has been done by these four deer.

  And now another question arises. Here are tracks running both ways and both look equally fresh. Have the deer come this way and returned, or have they gone that way first and returned this way?

  If there were no water in the question this might perplex you a moment. But as the tracks are evidently made by the same deer whose tracks we saw at the mouth of the gulch, and as one set of tracks leads to- ward the water and the other set leads away from it, there can be little doubt which course is the most likely to be the one they last went. But to be sure follow the trail until you find where one has stepped in one of the earlier tracks.

  This last way is of course sure where you find such a place. But deer may return by the side of their told tracks. And several may even walk some distance in a trail without stepping on an old track at all, or, at all events, in a place where the dirt is soft enough to plainly show which is the upper track. In such case, if you think it worthwhile to follow the trail and know nothing about the watering or feeding places or anything else likely to determine the matter, observe the following rules:
 

   1.st. The tracks leading toward the highest ground are likely to be the freshest.
   2.nd. So are the tracks that wander and straggle the most from the main trail.
   3.rd. So are the tracks leading toward the most brushy ground if the others lead toward pretty open ground.
   4.th. So are the tracks leading away from where there is the most travel, noise, or disturbance to a place more quiet and retired.

 

  In nearly all such cases the first set of tracks is made in the night or early in the morning, and the other is the returning track. If you can apply none of these rules, then take the track that gives you the wind in your face. And if there is no wind, take the sun on your back.

  At all events, we will follow here the trail that goes away from water. And we may follow it quite fast for some distance; for yonder in its direction are the headlands of another valley; in this dark thin brush through which the trail now leads there is little prospect of the deer stopping at this time of day; besides, it is plain they are making for yonder valley, and if so they will not be apt to stop at all in this stuff.

  A quarter of a mile or more the trail leads over the hard dry ground of the table-land, winding through the most open places of the brush, showing that the deer loves good open walking for traveling purposes as well as he does the thickest brush for hiding; and this although the thickest brush is no obstacle to him when he is a hurry. The trail is in places almost invisible, but you can still keep its general course.

  The bare hard pavement-like stony concrete shows a broad line, of a trifle more bareness, if possible; the little fine hard mossy substance that covers much of the ground shows a broad line a trifle grayer than the rest; and where streaks of softer ground are occasion- ally wet a light scrape or rim of fine dust raised by a sharp-edged hoof meets the eye.

  The head of the other valley is reached, and the trail descends into that. This valley is at least three hundred yards wide from edge to edge; the deer are doubtless lying down; the wind blows up the valley; there is no room for doubt as to the best place to walk.

  Down into the valley you go, and find the trail winding into another old cattle-trail that leads down the valley. For a quarter of a mile the deer have kept the cattle-trail; the tracking has been easy; your nerves have been on a constant strain. But now comes the tug of war. The deer are leaving the cattle-trail. First one of them wanders off to one side. Then another leaves it; a few yards more one straggles off on the other side. Then that one crosses over the trail, and the last one also leaves it. And now you realize that the decisive hour has arrived.

  Probably it has arrived. Possibly it has not. Those deer may in that way wander on for quarter of a mile yet. But still you must prepare to see them at any moment.

  And now what is the most important thing to attend to? Obviously to be in the best position to shoot. Out then from behind those thick bushes where you can see nothing. Get on the side toward the sun, so that you will be more likely to get a shot the other way instead of having it flash into your eyes and along your rifle-sight as the deer run up hill perhaps directly toward it. Get on the rising ground along the edge of the hill where you can see something.

  Not an instant too soon are you. For as you reach the rising ground and show your head and shoulders a yard or two higher there is a sudden hollow-toned "Phew!" a smash and crash of brush,a' k-bump-bump- bump-bump of hoofs on the hard ground, and about fifty yards ahead you see two shining curves of brown capped by white undulating through the brush.

  Bang! goes your rifle, and the bullet hisses clear over one of the curves and, glancing from the ground beyond, goes whizzing away on high. Almost as quickly the curves disappear behind some bush; you catch sight at the same time of two other deer with heads down disappearing on a trot in a brushy gulch on the other side of the valley; the first two reappear with an occasional whirl of glossy brown above the brush down the valley, while your bullets whiz spitefully far above them.

  You have already learned the folly of going after a deer when once started. This rule generally, though not always, holds good with these deer. But that place where those two disappeared on a trot looks like a pocket or basin containing thick brush. Those two that went in there acted as if they would skulk if they had a good opportunity. Just for curiosity follow them in there; and do so as fast as you can go.

  Arriving there you find it a sort of deep pocket with steep brushy sides about seventy-five yards across, well filled in the bottom with brush five or six feet high such as we saw on the level ground above, but much denser.

  You see no motion or anything that looks like a deer, and hear no sound. You snort like a deer, bleat like a deer, whistle, clap your hands, and finally yell. But nothing moves. A liberal shower of stones into different parts of the bush is equally futile. But from the way these two ran off and the fact that you got here so quickly without seeing them go out it is probable that they are standing hidden within fifty yards of you, or else are sneaking out through the heaviest brush that runs through the center. Take that old trail that winds up one side of the basin and go up until you can see down into the brush.

  You follow the trail all the way to the top of the basin, and then walk all the way around it on the edge of the high ground. And still you see and hear nothing. But be not too hasty to decide that there is nothing there. If they went out so quickly that you could not see them after running here so fast, then it is certain that they went out on a fast gait, either a run or a trot. In either case the tracks will show plainly anywhere along the edge of the level ground.

  Go then around the edge and look for tracks. If you find none, then you know the deer are hiding in that brush. In such case you have an excellent opportunity to try one of the surest ways to outgeneral the skulking deer to get on a commanding point of view and sit him out. He cannot stand it a great while. When all is quiet for half an hour or so often a much less time will suffice the skulking deer gets uneasy. He must move a little. And when you are well above him you can then hardly fail to see him.

  But I did not tell you to lose sight of the brush while looking for those tracks. Can you not watch both at once? You must have more ubiquitous eyes than you now exhibit if you expect much success as a still- hunter. Look down there where that little cut at the bottom of the basin branches off from the main gully at the bottom. Do you not see there a yellowish tinge of something in the brush? Explore it at once with a bullet. Why do you hesitate? It cannot be a man or any domestic animal. The loss of a bullet is nothing. The noise will probably not start the skulkers; and even if it should, what could you wish that would be better?

  And now it is gone. So it was a deer after all. And the fear of losing a bullet has cost you a deer.

  But run quickly to that point that juts out into the basin near its mouth and shoot at the first brown, yellow, white, or gray spot that moves in the brush.

  You get there and look long and keenly, but see nothing. Despair begins to settle upon you, when suddenly you catch sight of a small white spot with a small point of black in the center just disappearing in the bush over the other edge of the basin where you were a few moments ago. It must have slipped up that ravine yonder where the brush appears scarce four feet high. And yet you saw it not. A second or two more and you would not have seen it at all. And even now you see no head, no legs, no body; only a small target, and that fast fading in the brush upon the level ground.

  How brightly gleams the sun upon the front sight of your rifle as it comes up! And what a thrill of satisfaction you feel as you see it glimmer in bright relief full upon the center of the fading white! You pull the trigger, but no sound of striking bullet comes back. You go and look, but there is no sign of stumbling, plunging, or jumping. The deer has evidently walked on quite unconcerned.

  You shot toward the sun; that is all. You must be careful how you see your front sight too plainly when the sun is directly in your eyes; a point we will consider again.

  But what about the other one ? Did it go off with this one ?

  Perhaps it did. Examine the track and see.

  You follow the track a few yards in the course it has taken, but observe no sign of more than one deer. Turning backward toward the basin, you catch sight of a deer some two hundred yards away gayly bounding up the main valley near where you first started the four.

  You naturally wonder if that could not possibly be the other deer that was hiding. But you might better wonder if it could possibly be any other one, so close to where you first started them, and in full bound too. I did not tell you to lose sight of the basin while looking for the other one's track. You could have found it just as well by looking down the side of the basin as by following it away into the brush where you could not see what was going on in the basin. There is no use of sitting down now. There is no probability that there is anything left to sit out. But as it lies in your way back and will cost you neither time nor trouble, you may look at the mouth of the pocket. Ten to one, you will now find the tracks of a deer running out of it. In the future be careful how you trifle with the skulking deer.