Chapter XVII

Another Kind Of Open Ground

 

  The ground now breaks into a range of hills which in the Eastern States would be called " mountains."

  There are three or four peaks twelve hundred to fifteen hundred feet high from which the land descends in smaller hills and slopes for three quarters of a mile or so, forming numerous gulches, little ravines, basins, and a few small plateaus. Scarcely a single tree is in sight, but all the side of the hills is more or less covered with brush. This brush is in most places not over waist-high, and is quite thin enough for comfortable walking. But in some places, as in and around the heads of ravines, the brush is denser and often higher than one's head. Many of the basins and plateaus, as well as some of the lower ridges, are more or less covered with large clumps of scattered bushes, luxuriant and green. On the whole, it is excellent-looking ground for deer to live on, for the hunter to get sight of them and to get a shot at them.

  There appears, however, one difficulty; and as it is one we shall frequently meet on open ground, especially in all those States and Territories where there is no rain during a large part of the summer or autumn, we will consider it now.

  Although the brush is in most places thin enough for comfortable walking, yet it is too thick to walk through without touching it. Much of it is dry and brittle, and cracks and snaps at the least touch. The ground, too, is more or less carpeted with sun- dried grass and flowers of various kinds that crackle under the lightest tread of the softest moccasins. With the utmost care you can use you still make such a noise that in the woods where we began hunting you would see not a tail the live-long day.

  It would indeed be useless to hunt such noisy ground as this in the woods. The best still-hunters of the Eastern woods will almost invariably refuse to hunt when, as they say, " the woods are too noisy." We have already seen one reason why your noise is not so apt to alarm deer on open ground the greater distances, more wind, and the absence of trees. But beyond all these it is evident that these deer do not start from noise as quickly as timber-deer do. That is, all do not. If they did, it would be impossible to get many close shots on such open ground as is brushy enough to contain many deer. The hunter soon finds this out, and hence is apt to conclude that since he cannot go quietly anyhow, and as the deer do not mind noise, there is no use in trying to walk quietly. Once in a while we meet a man foolish enough to think that the more noise he makes the better, as if the deer needed flushing like quail.

  All this proceeds from hasty reasoning from carelessly gathered premises. While it is true that many of the deer do not run from a noise that would send a timber-deer flying before you got sight of him at all and here I refer not to the skulkers, but to those that intend .to run but wait a while to see what makes the noise it is equally true that many others do run at the slightest snap of a twig, just as the timber-deer does.

  The proper way to hunt here is to avoid noise as much as you can by selecting trails, easing off brush with your hands, going around it, crawling through it, etc., but never to assume that there is nothing just ahead of you because you have just had to make a noise in tearing through some brush that you could not get around. In short, make no noise; but if you must make some, do not be concerned about it, but go on the same as if you had made none at all.

  And now another question perplexes you; viz., how high up the side of this range of hills to walk?

  A common mistake in hunting such ground is going too high up. Although you will find some tracks and droppings nearly up to the top of those peaks, yet the deer are rarely there in the daytime. Most of those tracks are made by deer crossing the top to the other side, but in no particular haste about getting over. It will rarely be worth while to hunt there, and it is also too far away to command a view of the lower slopes and foot-hills. This applies, however, only to such ranges as are narrow at the top. If they are broad-topped and contain plateaus, basins, etc., on the top, then the top may be the best place.

  If deer are not at all disturbed, the lowest foot-hills and ravines of such hills as these will contain about as many deer as any part of them. But if disturbed by hunters, herdsmen, or sheep, etc., they will go higher. As a rule, the middle tier of the hills is the best to hunt; as it is not only apt to contain as many deer as any part, but commands a good view of the upper and lower slopes and ravines. But what means that motion in yonder bush, in that little basin about three hundred yards away and a hundred feet or so lower than we are? There is yet no wind to cause it so to move, and a bird could hardly give it such a jerking motion. A deer nipping twigs from it could, however, give it just such a motion. Move gently over to this side of that next ridge and follow it out to its point. From there you can almost see the other side of the bush. Take an occasional look over the ridge as you go, but be very careful how you do it.

  Reaching the point, you discover on the farther side of the bush a little spot of white set in a slight framework of brown, with something like the taper of a brownish-gray leg just below it. In the center of the white is a stubby little black and white tail that gives a highly complacent wiggle. Very much the same kind of a target as that you shot at on our last hunt.

  Sit down and keep cool a moment. Then take an inspection of the ground and decide upon the best means to get nearer to the deer. It suspects nothing as yet, and is not going to run. At this time of day about sunrise it will probably stay there several minutes. At all events, your chances of getting within a hundred yards of it are greater than your chances of making a killing shot from here ; for both the ground and wind are favorable for a close approach. On such ground as this you must make a mortal shot and not break a leg or lightly cripple such game. Once wounded, a few seconds will carry it into that dense dark chapparal you see beyond there so heavily robing the mountain's breast and shoulders. And once there it is forever lost to you unless you have a very good dog; and even if you have a dog you may still lose the deer or have a heavy task to get it out.

  Do you not see a cattle-trail winding up the side of the next ravine? It leads directly to that little basin in which the deer is. Go down this point out of sight, take that trail, on which you can walk quietly, and follow it to the edge of the basin.

  You soon reach the trail, and behold! there are tracks in it of four or five deer going both ways. Lose no time, though, in examining them. They are all about equally fresh; there is undoubtedly water in that deep gulch far below; the deer you just saw is undoubtedly one of those that made these tracks; that is the up-hill direction, too; you know the rest.

  You speedily conclude that they have been going to water, and that the return trail is the freshest. So going swiftly and silently along the trail you reach the edge of the basin. Peering cautiously over the edge you see nothing.. You take a step or two forward, and suddenly from half a dozen different directions comes a medley of crashing brush and bump, bump, bump, bump of hoofs. A few brown hides glimmer for a moment above the brush in glossy curves surmounted by white rumps, and vanish amid a storm of random shots from your repeater.

  The same old mistake you made so often in the woods. How often must I warn you about showing yourself too quickly; about thinking you can see everything because the brush is not very heavy; against deciding too hastily that there is nothing in sight. There were five deer there; you saw only one of them at first; yet all the rest were there browsing also; and yet you see the brush is neither thick nor high. Suppose now you had stood back for a few moments with none of your head in sight lower than your eyes, You could not only have seen anything if it should try to leave the basin, but would undoubtedly have seen in a minute or two more the deer that you saw first. It had only turned a little so as to conceal the white of its buttocks and cast a different shade of color from its side. And you might easily have seen that big buck that stood by a bush a few yards farther on. Remember now that deer are just about as hard to see in such a place as they are in the woods, and do not throw away another such opportunity just by a trifle too much haste to get a better view.

  And now we must seek another deer or set of deer. For it would be quite useless to follow these into that chapparal whither they have gone so rapidly bounding. Remember that even here, where there is neither house nor ranch in sight, though you can see many a mile around, deer are not found in every bush. In this whole range of hills, some three miles long, there are probably not over twenty. But that is enough to make fair sport if you are careful and know how to manage them. Move along, but keep as near this elevation as you can. Stop at every good point of observation and after making a thorough search with the naked eye, especially of the ground near to you, take your glass and sweep carefully the lower, higher, and farther ground.

  Nearly half a mile beyond where we saw the last deer is a comfortable rock on a high point commanding an extensive view of slopes, ridges, ravines, etc. Let us take a seat and spend ten or fifteen minutes. Yes; call it laziness if you choose, we will not dispute about terms; but we will nevertheless sit. Now search all the hill-sides, slopes, etc., in sight. Give first a general look over the whole with your naked eye; then run over it in detail with the glass. Look especially in the brush of sunny hill-sides; look around all scattering bushes; look in the bottoms of all ravines, etc.; look on the tops of all ridges. Look as if you were looking not for deer but for hares, for rabbits, for rats, even for mice.

  Five hundred yards away, and some three hundred feet lower than where you are, you notice a small spot of shiny gray in some bushes. Watch it closely. It may be the sun on a deer's coat, for some of the deer are already laying aside the yellowish-brown coat of summer and putting on the gray of autumn.

  Ah ha! It moves a little. And now ahead comes up from behind a bush and takes a long and careful look: and the sun glistens on some polished horns upon the head of a four-year old buck.

  Now remember, there is positively no haste, for he does not suspect anything. Show nothing below your head; keep that still; and wait long enough to find out what he intends doing.

  He takes a few steps; nibbles a few leaves from 3, bush; then stands a minute or two and wiggles his tail. He then scratches his head with one hind foot; takes another nibble from a bush; and then stands still a moment.

  Wait just a moment more before deciding what to do. If he is going to remain there, there is no immediate haste. You may be quite certain he will not descend any lower at this time of day, for it is nearly eight o'clock. And it is highly probable that he intends coming higher up, for there is hardly cover enough where he is to make a good lying-place for as warm a day as to-day will be.

  And now he starts. Slowly indeed, but, do you see? upon a long stride, a sort of a stalk of extreme dignity. And now he takes the side of the ravine upon something looking like a trail.

  Now is your time for expedition. Out of here by the back way in a twinkling. For do you not see that that ravine runs up to yonder little brushy plateau? He is undoubtedly going there, and will keep the side of the ravine he is on or go up and take the ridge. You must get to the head of the ravine before he does; and keep out of sight while doing it.

  Backing out of your present position, you slip along the rear side of the ridge you are on and run along it to where it joins the main body of the mountain. And there, thanks to the old Spanish cattle, is a good trail winding directly toward the plateau toward which the buck is going. With head low down and body bent so as to keep below the brush, you reach the plateau with a short run. Then slowly raising your head you take a look for your game, and in a moment you see it moving deliberately up the side of the ridge some two hundred yards away.

  No, no. Do not shoot. A deer walking at that distance, especially on a course both rising and slanting, is entirely too hard a shot for even an old hand to take unless compelled to. Do not even move until you see whether he crosses the ridge, takes the top of it, or keeps on the side he still is on. In any of these events your prospects of a pretty fair shot are far stronger than the probabilities of hitting the deer where it now is. And now see! the deer is going over the ridge. But stop! Do not move an inch until he is out of sight. There he disappears. Now be quick but quiet and get on the neck of that ridge he went over just where it joins the main body of the hills.

  You reach the neck of the ridge, and dropping behind a large rock take off your hat and peep cautiously over the rock. And soon you see on your side of the ravine a long low bit of yellowish brown moving through the brush some seventy yards away, with the tips of a pair of horns occasionally surging through the brush in front of it. The brown is moving toward you too, and will pass you some thirty yards down your side of the ridge and near the bottom of the ravine. And you softly ejaculate " Mine."

  But beware, dear friend, how you too quickly say " Mine," You know not whether a deer is yours un- til you stand astride of it with your knife. And be a little cautious even then; for sometimes when the point of the knife has pricked the skin of a fallen deer, hunter, rifle, knife, and deer have radiated to the four points of the compass almost as suddenly as if a keg of powder had exploded in their midst.

  And now where is your bit of brown? You took your eyes from it to look at the place where you intended to bag it, and when your eyes would return to it, behold! it is gone. Yet none of that brush is over four feet high and not at all thick.

  Now do not get excited, worried, or anxious; for if you do you will yield to hurry and flurry, and then it will be a running shot or none. The buck is still there; he probably suspects not your presence; he cannot get out of the ravine without your seeing him; and if you have patience you may still get a good standing shot.

  You wait a few seconds and they seem a few minutes; a few minutes and they seem long hours. Surely he has slipped away unseen, you think; that rock would give a so much better view; he may be getting away; no time is to be lost. So Haste reasons with you; and though Patience commands you in thunder-tones to keep still, you will listen to Haste. You put your foot upon the rock and are just raising yourself upon it, when a sudden crash of brush comes from near the place where you last saw the bit of brown. It is followed at once by the well-known bump, bump, bump, and from the bottom of the ravine away goes the buck bouncing on steely legs up the opposite side. He looks now as large as a yearling calf, as with high bounding springs he surges above the brush, with the morning sun glinting on every tine and shining from nearly every hair. Little he cares for the rapid fire of your repeater. He surges away as if it were only play, leaving your bullets all above him as he goes curving downward from the climax of his lofty bound.

  He reaches the top of the ridge, stops, wheels half around, and turns his great mulish ears and dark blue eyes full upon you. There again is your artist-deer at last, standing full broadside, bulging with fatness, looming now as large and lustrous as he was before small and dim, as graceful and majestic as he was before ugly and insignificant and only fifty yards away!

  Aim at the very lowest point where the shoulder, joins the body; and take a fine sight at that or you will still overshoot him. A tremor runs through all your nerves; the front sight of the rifle wavers all over the target; with a convulsive jerk you pull the trigger. The rifle cracks, and as the smoke clears away, the top of the ridge reveals no trace of your buck.

  Did he fall in his tracks? you naturally wonder.

  Suppose he did. Will he not stay there a few minutes? Suppose he did not. May you not get another shot before he can cross or get out of the next ravine? Do you not see that with a quick run you can reach the neck of the ridge he was on and may see him if he runs up or across the next ravine, as he probably will do? Why stand here an instant speculating upon the probable result of your shot ?

  You reach the neck of the next ridge quite out of breath and just in time to discover nothing. But be not too hasty to utilize your discovery. For he may be hiding in the brush. Walk on down to where he stood when you fired and see what has happened. But be not too hasty to get there, and keep a good watch in the brush below while going.

  And now hark! a faint crack of brush; then a crash; then another smash of brush, and the old bit of brown is plunging through the brush below. But it is a la- boring, stumbling gait, without any of the bump, bump of hoofs plied by elastic legs.

  Bang ! bang ! bang ! goes your rifle again, and still the brown goes on. Stop. Save your cartridges. He is wounded, and if you empty your rifle-magazine he may get out of this ravine before you can load again. It is evident that you are now too excited to hit anything; and therefore you had better take a few moments' time to cool down. And in the meanwhile fill up the magazine of your rifle, for you may need all the shots it will hold.

  Now make a quick run and get on that large rock that juts out some twenty yards below you. And don't you leave that rock until you see that deer again, even if you have to sit there some time. If he slips out of the ravine unseen which he cannot do if you keep a good watch from that rock you can track him just as well in four hours as you can now, and you would then have much better chances of finding him dead or lying down and so very sick that he would not rise until you got almost upon him.

  As you jump upon the rock there is, however, another crash of brush only twenty yards below; the brown again shows itself for a moment; and it sinks at the first crack of your rifle.

  On going down to your deer your satisfaction is somewhat marred by finding that your first ball struck the deer high up in the haunch, some two and a half feet from where you aimed.

​

Chapter XVIII

The Still-Hunter's Cardinal Virtue

 

  Space forbids the much further continuance of this realistic style of teaching the ways of the woods and hills, as it involves the repetition of too much that is already become familiar from former chapters. There is still another kind of open ground that must be considered, and I shall use it mainly as a text for a sermon upon the greatest of all virtues in still-hunting, viz. Patience.

  The frequent necessity of Patience you have already seen. But you have not yet had an opportunity to fully realize its indispensable character in very many cases. There arise many perplexing questions in still- hunting the only key to the solution of which is Patience. It is true that these arise mainly in open ground, more especially open ground of the kind we are about to consider. But there are times in the woods and on all kinds of ground when it is quite as essential.

  We are now in a broad open country with few or no hills beyond mere swells. In general appearance it is very much like heavily rolling prairie. But instead of the sloughs filled with long grass so abundant on some rolling prairies, you see here and there long strips of a deep dark green from quarter of a mile to several miles in length, running generally through the lower portions, but sometimes seaming with a verdant scar the very topmost face of quite level ground. These are gullies or barrancas, generally so steep-sided and deep that it is often no trifle to cross one on foot. The greater part of them have numerous arms or side gullies running in on each side every hundred or two hundred yards, varying in length from fifty yards upward. And some of these terminate in pockets or basins, but are generally both deep and steep-sided. These gullies are mostly filled with evergreen brush from six to twelve feet high. Sometimes one of these gullies rises to the dignity of a small canon or valley with water in it, perhaps, and a small line of timber at the lower end. An occasional small tree appears at long intervals scattered over the whole, but from anything that can be called woods or timber we are miles and miles away. The ridges and slopes between these barrancas are more or less covered with grass, weeds, some variety of sage or chemisal or low light brush, the body of which is little over knee-high, though, as in prairie, the flower- stalks may rise much higher. Occasional green bushes are scattered over the whole. This kind of ground in types more or less varied is found in SouthernCalifornia, Lower California, and the Spanish- American States and Territories generally. Often the gullies are so sloping at the sides that they are more properly swales than gullies, and sometimes they all contain a few trees or occasional groves of trees. Though it generally goes under the general term of mesa, or table-land, it is often the nearest approach to prairie to be found West of the Rocky Mountains, the gullies having been so deeply cut by cloud-bursts and heavy rains.

  Though few would suspect it at first glance, such ground is almost certain to contain game: antelope if not too brushy and if wide enough in extent; deer if the gullies are plenty enough and brushy enough. Such ground is often easily traversed with a wagon, and can always be hunted on horseback, there being always some places where a horse can cross the gullies. There is little ground more pleasant or easy to hunt on foot for one who can endure a long walk, and still less ground upon which success may be so easily had from so small an average of deer to the square mile. The general principles requisite for success on such ground are about the same as those to be applied in hunting prairie of any kind; about the only difference being in the jumping of deer from the gullies.

  The high ground is here the best to keep on during the times when the deer are on foot. We will therefore take this long ridge that commands a view of two gullies with their adjacent slopes of several hundred yards each. But while inspecting these slopes do not neglect the top of the ridge ahead of you, and pay strict attention to the edges of every gully and every clump of brush. For while the deer generally lie in the gullies by day and get a large part of their food from the bushes they contain, yet in the morning and at evening they are more apt to be a few yards from the edge, or up the slopes around some bush, or on the tops of the long ridges. And sometimes in hot weather, and generally in cold weather, they will lie during the day in the occasional bushes found over the slopes or on the ridges. And in very cold weather they will generally lie out in the low open brush in the sun.

  This morning we will take this particular ridge because it leads on a course of good walking and hunting for two miles or so, with the rising sun on our backs instead of in our faces as we should be obliged to have it if we took advantage of the wind. But the prospects of a deer's being ahead of us on the ridge at all, or, if so, of being near enough to smell us before we could see him on ground so open and with the sun shining on him, are so slight that we will let the wind go and take the advantage of the sun instead.

  The extreme care necessary to get first sight of a deer in general is here even more important, if possible, than elsewhere. For upon such ground the deer has every advantage of a wide sweep of vision that you have. Moreover, even in this low open brush that does not reach your waist, and through which the walking is so easy, deer standing still will be almost impossible for you to see at any considerable distance, especially when in the gray coat as we will suppose them now to be unless you can get well above them or have a sky-background, as when a deer is standing on a ridge, or unless the sun makes his back shine. And when you recollect that deer are rarely so numerous upon such ground as in timber, you will see that the importance of seeing one before he sees you is here far greater; especially as on this kind of ground you can rarely get a shot by a sudden dash to some point or ridge, the distances to be run being entirely too long.

  On such ground you can scarcely look too far; though the ground for fifty yards around you must not be neglected. You can scarcely have too strong a glass or use it too thoroughly; though you should not use it until you have first given a careful and extensive sweep with the naked eye.

  There is scarcely a shade of color from light brown to almost black, not a bit of sheen or a glistening point of any kind on such ground that may not be part of a deer. White spots must also be examined, as the buttocks and legs inside have some white. And if there are antelope .on the range, everything from pure white to brown and dark gray must be inspected; as the head of an antelope lying down will often be a dark spot on the landscape.

  We will suppose that you see a deer at last. It is nearly a third of a mile away, but you discover it with your glass browsing from a little bush near the top of another ridge. You decide at once that it is a hopelessly long shot, and that your only hope of a close shot is a detour of half a mile or so to the other side of the crest of the ridge above the deer.

  This detour you quickly make; but on peeping carefully over you see no deer. But you do see about two dozen small bushes, and each one of them maybe the bush by which you saw the deer, and it may be behind any one of them. Here arises your first trouble from want of patience. You were so anxious to get a shot that you did not have patience to mark the exact bush at which you saw the deer. You did not even notice that there were any other bushes there. You merely saw a hill-side and a deer and started off.

  You look at every bush; they all look small and low; you see no deer at any of them; and you conclude that the deer moved off while you were coming around. You take a few steps and come up on the ridge for a better view. And you get it at once. But it is a rapidly dissolving view of a low-scudding spike- buck, so low that he does not even appear above the low stalks of the white sage. In a moment he disappears without regarding the noise of your rifle.

  The buck started from behind the very bush at which you first saw him. Five or ten minutes' patient waiting would have given him time to move around the bush, to shake its top leaves by browsing or to move to another bush. And if you had had patience to back out and go along the ridge some three hundred yards either way, you might have located him precisely, and might then have returned and waited behind the ridge for him to move out in sight.

  In this way a large number of shots are lost even by hunters who kill a great deal of game. Too hasty marking of a deer's location, too hasty assumption that the deer has moved away because it cannot at once be seen when the detour is completed, are two of the most irretrievable mistakes that any one but an excellent shot at running game can make in hunting open ground. And even in the woods it is often made, though of course not so often as in open ground, as deer are never seen so far away in the woods as they generally are in the open.

  Well, there is another one, and you raise your rifle at once.

  Beware! beware! It is indeed only two hundred yards away. But that is a long, long shot for even the best of shots to make at a deer standing breast toward you with more than half his body hidden in that gray sage. You will find that mark extremely dim when seen through the sights of a rifle. Let me tell you right here to beware always how you shoot with the rifle at a mark when bedim med or nearly obscured by brush. Never do it far off if you have any fair prospects of getting closer. Never do it even tolerably close by unless necessary. If you doubt me, try a few shots at the heads of rabbits at only fifteen paces when they are in grass or brush where you can see only the tips of the ears and fancy you see the dim outline of the head below them.

  Consider, too, that this deer is headed this way; that it shows no sign of alarm; that there is no gully between in which it may go and get out of sight; that it is headed up hill too; and that there is probably water in that deep ravine beyond where the trees are so green. Reading these facts in the light of your already acquired knowledge, do you not see a strong probability that that deer is lounging away from water to high ground and will come your way ? But suppose he does not come your way. Suppose he moves away. Can you not see where he goes, follow him up, and see him again and get as good a shot as you now have? For, remember, he is not alarmed; and whether he goes into a gully, into a bush, or over a ridge, he will go slowly and not be looking much be- hind; for these deer know nothing of watching back until after being started.

  The deer stands and stands and stands. And you stand a few minutes and get impatient. The deer's persistence in standing, instead of teaching you that there is little danger of his going far in any direction now, it being nearly time for deer to lie down, only destroys the little patience you have. You fire, and when the smoke clears there is nothing in sight.

  Let us suppose it is now the middle of the afternoon. At a distance you see an enormous buck rise up beside a bush, stand a few minutes, nibble a few leaves and lie down again on the shady side of the bush, only changing his bed to get out of the sun as it moves around the bush. You make a detour and get behind a little rise of ground some eighty or a hundred yards away. Looking cautiously over you see just the tip of a horn shining through the weeds. You draw up your rifle-sight about eighteen inches below the horn and fire.

  A combination of pirouette, hornpipe, and double shuffle takes place for an instant by the bush, and then just as you think the deer is about to fall he straightens himself out and scuds away in line with the bush. Your ball glanced the base of his horn and stunned him a much better shot than there was any prospect of your making. And if you had crept up behind the bush he would probably have run straight away from it and have left it directly in your line of vision.

  And now let us see what patience could have accomplished. The wind was blowing from him to you and he could not smell you. He had not seen or heard you, and you could have remained both quiet and unseen behind that little rise until he rose again. As it is the middle of the afternoon and the day is not very hot, he would probably have risen in less than an hour. And he would then have been in no hurry to go, and would have been as likely to come your way as to go any other. And suppose you had waited until sundown. Would not the game be worth so cheap a candle ?

  But we must hasten along and suppose our cases fast. You have been tracking some deer and track them to a huddle of gullies, basins, etc., all filled with brush. You fail to see one or jump any of them out of it. You make a circle around and find no tracks leading out. Failing to start anything from the edge you go in and thrash around inside for a few minutes. When tired and perspiring you come out, and about the first thing you find is a series of long jumps on ground you passed directly over when you made your circuit. They were skulking and slipped out of one side while you were tearing around in brush so high and thick that you could not have hit one if you had seen a dozen deer running.

  Now only a hundred yards away is a knoll that commands a view of the whole of this place. And after you felt quite certain they were there, and when you know the trick of skulking as well as you do, why in the world could you not go there and sit them out? Want of patience. That is all.

  This sitting out a deer and other forms of patience will suggest themselves in many other cases, such as where a fresh trail of several deer divides up and the individual trails begin to wander and straggle on ground suitable for lying down and there is a good point to sit on; especially when it is near evening and the ground is bad for getting a shot at a deer when started.

  On such open ground as this it is often necessary to traverse a great deal of ground; and as deer in such open places will not remain on foot so long when the sun is hot as they will in the woods, it may, in warm weather especially, be necessary to move fast. As noise is here of less consequence than elsewhere one may walk quite fast. But the keenness of sight must be doubled in consequence. In cold weather deer will remain on foot a longtime on such ground; longer in the morning than in the afternoon, and will be found mainly along the sunny slopes and hollows.

  To jump deer upon such ground is often easy. It is of little use to hunt the ridges or the scattered bushes during the time deer are lying down, as the acreage of such stuff is uncomfortably disproportion- ate to the number of deer. The only way to do is to hunt along the edges of the gullies and around the heads of little side gullies and pockets, etc., and depend upon jumping those that lie down in such stuff. If it be very thick they may skulk or slip away down the bottom of the gully, leaving you amused only with the gay gallopade of their retiring hoofs. But, as a rule, they will spring out on one side and roll away over the open slope to the next ridge, or run down the opposite outside edge of the gully, thus presenting a fine chance for a running shot.

  Whether deer are plenty enough on such ground to hunt may be soon determined by inspection of the ground along the edges and around the heads of gullies, also the ground lying between the heads of opposite running gullies and the ridges, points, and gullies leading to springs, if water be scarce. Tracks and droppings will be found on all such ground if deer are plenty enough to bother with.

  Patience is no less essential in antelope-stalking than in deer-stalking. A little impatience to know whether antelope are coming to the red flag will often spoil a shot. So when they are feeding along on a certain course and you get around and get ahead of them it will be nearly impossible to resist raising your head too often to see how near they are. And when they come slowly it will be very hard to wait instead of trying to get closer.

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Chapter XIX

Hunting In The Open And In Timber Combined

 

  There is still another kind of ground, quite common in those countries where the greater number of deer are now to be found. It is a combination of open ground and timber, and when deer and acorns are plenty often affords shooting so easy and abundant that any tyro who has strength enough to stroll a mile or two on gently rolling ground and can hit any- thing at all can often have success enough to make him think he is a wonderful hunter. But, on the other hand, when deer are scarce and wild on such ground, it is in some respects more difficult to hunt than any we have yet seen except the heavy timber. We will, however, consider deer tolerably wild and not so abundant as to make care needless.

  It is autumn now, and the acorns are pattering to the ground. Between rugged mountains robed in chaparral of dark, velvet green runs a long low valley which breaks on every side in smaller valleys and gulches into the adjacent mountains, and forms along the sides benches, basins, and pockets of various sizes. These are partly open and partly filled with a low chaparral of brush live-oaks, to the acorns of which the deer are very partial. The bottom and lower sides of the valley are well covered with vast live-oaks that have stood shoulder to shoulder through centuries of time. With their ever-living leaves of dark shining green and broad rugged limbs festooned with hoary moss, they form an almost continuous shade. Along the side valleys, knolls, and benches stand in silent majesty vast old evergreen white-oaks, the acorns of which the deer prefer even to those of the common live-oak.

  Is this a hunt or only an evening stroll through a grand old English park ? Before us the ground stretches away like a gently undulating carpet ; here are soft foot-paths running here and there ; on all hands are the massive old trees ; here is the cool, delightful shade, and the softest of breezes playing through. And there, too, are the deer, the only thing needed to make the park complete; three standing under yonder tree, and two lying down like cattle beneath it.

  Those deer are gone, so we will saunter along farther. Take a look into these little side pockets as you go along, and even up on those benches. Take good long looks down the vistas that open through the timber in various directions, and stoop down occasionally for a longer view. We may not see anything ahead for some time, for those deer have probably stampeded everything on their route. But perhaps they soon turned off into the hills. Go slowly now, and keep a sharp watch on each side, for there are plenty of deer here somewhere, as you can see by the numerous tracks, and ……..

  Bump- crash-bump-bump-crash comes suddenly from the head of a little side ravine ; and just as the rifle comes to your shoulder the heavy green chaparral closes over a fat, glossy rump.

  You see it is just as necessary to be careful about showing your head around a corner as about showing it over a ridge. There is absolutely no way in which you can bring head and shoulders in sight of a deer with safety except by being so extremely slow that no motion is apparent. Of course a deer will not always run or even always see you if you bring yourself too quickly in his eye-range. But the greater number of deer will both see you and run. And even where they are exceedingly tame you will be constantly losing shot by it. That last deer was tame enough. He stood on the outer edge of the chapparal in plain view until you walked out several feet in his field of vision.

  But let us stroll along. It is all easy walking enough, but if you keep this trail of the wild cattle it will be still more easy and quiet.

  A stroll of half a mile or so along the smooth, easy path brings us to a sudden halt. Something far ahead under a tree looks like an inverted V, long, tapering, and dark. Watch it carefully for a minute or two. It suddenly begins to grow gradually wider at the bottom and splits at the top until in a moment there are two V's both inverted and about two feet above the ground. Most marvelous resemblance to a pair of ears.

  No. Don't raise your head another inch. What but an animal turning its head a little could have made that motion ? The shape alone without any motion should satisfy you.

  And now how to get a nearer interview with the owner of those ears ? It will not be safe to approach over such level ground as that which lies between you. Nor are the trees plenty enough to stalk behind. And if they were, it would be an unsafe way to approach a deer having his head up. But there is a-point projecting into the valley about eighty yards from them. Back out of where you are, slip into this little gulch to the left, cross the neck of the ridge at the head of it, and cross the next little gulch. That will put you on this side of the ridge that terminates in the point you wish to reach.

  By the aid of the cattle-trails you reach at last the point quietly and with ease. Peering cautiously over it you see three slim sleek bodies, gray and glossy, lying side by side in domestic peace. There are two fawns lying with their heads over on their sides. The mother lies beside them with head upraised, chewing her cud and watching.

  It is a pity to mar such peaceful happiness. But you may not feel so bad about it afterward; so try it.

  Bang ! goes your rifle; and like steel springs released from pressure the three deer bound in three different directions. There is no rising or getting up. There is only one simultaneous bump of hoofs and all three stand twenty feet apart, all like statues and all looking in different directions.

  Bang ! goes another shot. Bump go twelve hoofs again, almost at once. And there they all stand again, a little farther apart than before, and all looking.

  Bang ! goes another shot, and the ball with a chug splinters the bark from a live-oak just above the doe's back. The three deer give a start, trot a few steps, then huddle up all together, and look again.

  At the bang ! of another shot the three dart from the common center a single bound, stop and look a minute, then run a few yards in an inquiring way here and there, then huddle up again. And so they go on, getting farther and farther away, until the magazine of your rifle is empty. And by the time you can put in another cartridge they are vanishing softly in different directions, each on a soft springy trot,

  A few minutes' walk, and your eye catches the billowy roll of a heavy body vanishing among the distant trees. The same old story, you see. You will forget that a deer in timber even when that timber is open like a park without a particle of underbrush is still very hard to see. You were not looking sharp enough or far enough ahead. Keep a keen eye on the edge of the chaparral; for deer, though feeding on acorns, still love to browse, and there are bush-acorns there, too.

  Sh! stop! Don't you see those two glistening points in the brush there on the left, some hundred yards ahead? Never let such things escape your eye. Look sharp there where the lower edge of the sunlight breaking through that gorge on the east strikes the chaparral. Do you see two shining points about three inches long and fifteen or eighteen inches apart, just above the brush? Now watch them closely.

  See! they move and two or three more points just below them appear in sight for an instant, and then do down. It's a big buck browsing.

  Keep down that rifle! Do you want to throw away your only chance? You must make a dead shot on him; for a few yards in that chaparral will put him beyond your reach.

  Your only chance now is to possess your soul in perfect patience for five minutes, ten minutes, even twenty or thirty minutes perhaps, until he comes out or shows some spot to shoot at. There is every probability that he will do so as 'he is right in the edge of the brush; it is yet early and cool, and as there is no hunting or other disturbance here, it is much more likely that he will come down here to spend the day in breezy shade than remain in that brush. You can go to that little rise or bench there about fifty yards closer to him; but stay there and wait.

  You reach the bench, and the glistening points are still there, surging up and down, and shining more brightly than ever.

  You found out yesterday that you were not yet over the buck ague, and you are now getting another lesson in it. You begin to get terribly restless, and fancy you know just where his body is. I might as well tell a drowning man to have patience until I can build a boat to rescue him. Your desire to shoot is worse than the murderer's secret, and kicks and hammers against your perspiring ribs, until you can no longer resist the temptation.

  The rifle cracks, and all is still. The glistening points are gone, but there was no crash of brush or bump of bounding hoofs. Killed, of course, you think, as you hasten to the spot. After a long search you find a few fresh tracks, and see where he has bitten the leaves from the brush. A close inspection shows tracks leading away through the brush, but there is no' blood, no hair, no plunging jumps. Of course you wonder if you hit him. But you will never know. Possibly you did; but probably you did not. Never take such a shot as that but wait patiently for a better one. The chances of a better one are greater than of hitting by guesswork. He just dropped his head and skulked quietly off.

  Sadly pondering the lesson you have just learned, you lounge along for a quarter of a mile or so, when suddenly you see a low dark object some distance ahead. Something peculiar about its shape and color arrests your attention; directly a head with branching antlers rises from the ground in front of it; and in a twinkling the thing is changed into a majestic old buck, the genuine powder-flask buck. Proudly erect he stands for a second, a picture of massive grace and strength, and takes a look around; and then down goes the head again to the ground; the beauty is all gone and he looks as angular and ugly as an old cow. But for an instant only. Again comes up the head, the neck is proudly erect as before, and all the outlines are again those of grace. He is feeding on acorns; and now you can try a task always difficult and often impossible to approach a deer directly within his sight, The ground is too level to allow you to get behind knolls, and he is too far from the hills on either side for a good shot, so your best chance is to crawl directly toward him. Half-cock your rifle and push it ahead of you, leave your hat here, and work ahead with your elbows and toes. The instant you see him raise his head, stop and lie perfectly still until he puts it down again for another acorn. Don't be impatient, and never mind if he does seem to be working away from you. Should he go behind a tree, with head away from you, you may get on your hands and knees and crawl faster; but the instant he raises his head stop at once and remain fixed in whatever position you happen to be. Don't move at all as long as he can see you. And don't try to rise up to shoot.

  Fifteen minutes' work brings you within a hundred and fifty yards of him, when all at once he throws his head suddenly up and looks directly at you. Be not at all alarmed; for a deer often looks as if he saw something when he really suspects nothing. But now he looks longer than usual, while you are in a very uncomfortable position, with a very active fire of impatience fast blazing up in your vitals. The only remedy is patience. He surely cannot smell you on account of the wind, and he cannot possibly make out what you are if you only keep still.

  Suddenly he turns half around and scratches his neck with his hoof. Now throw your rifle into position for a shot; for he acts as though he were done feeding, and if he starts on a walk he may go some distance before he stops. Again he straightens up and looks around, and through an opening the morning sun shines on his beamy coat and polished horns. And now I guess you had better try him, though it is a long shot for unsteady nerves.

  The rifle cracks, and the buck gives a convulsive start, and as a distinct spat of the ball comes back on the air he breaks for the chaparral, no longer on the beautiful ricochet gait we have seen before, but on a regular race-horse gallop. The hissing lead flies be- hind him fast as you can send it from your repeater, and you begin to reflect on the fleeting nature of earthly pleasures, when his gait begins to change to the lumbering gallop of a cow, and in a second he wavers, staggers, and then goes plunging down head first to the ground, shot through the heart.

  Such is the hunting in the oak cafions of Southern California, and probably on all similar ground in any part of the Union. If not disturbed, the deer prefer these valleys and shady groves with the side cafions and gulches to the hills on either side. But if hunted or disturbed much they soon go back into the chaparral by day, where it is quite useless to follow them. And sometimes, as in spring and early summer, the majority will keep pretty close in the chapparal all the time, and make few tracks outside.