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The history of the buffalo's daily life and habits should begin
with the "running season." This period occupied the months of August
and September, and was characterized by a degree of excitement and
activity throughout the entire herd quite foreign to the ease-loving
and even slothful nature which was so noticeable a feature of the
bison's character at all other times.
The mating season occurred when the herd was on its summer range.
The spring calves were from two to four months old. Through
continued feasting on the new crop of buffalo-grass and
bunch-grass-the most nutritious in the world, perhaps-every buffalo
in the herd had grown round-sided, fat, and vigorous. The faded and
weather-beaten suit of winter hair had by that time fallen off and
given place to the new coat of dark gray and black, and, excepting
for the shortness of his hair, the buffalo was in prime condition.
During the "running season," as it was called by the plainsmen,
the whole nature of the herd was completely changed. Instead of
being broken up into countless small groups and dispersed over a
vast extent of territory, the herd came together in a dense and
confused mass of many thousand individuals, so closely congregated
as to actually blacken the face of the landscape. As if by a general
and irresistible impulse, every straggler would be drawn to the
common center, and for miles on every side of the great herd the
country would be found entirely deserted.
At this time the herd itself became a seething mass of activity and
excitement. As usual under such conditions, the bulls were half the
time chasing the cows, and fighting each other during the other
half. These actual combats, which were always of short duration and
over in a few seconds after the actual collision took place, were
preceded by the usual threatening demonstrations, in which the bull
lowers his head until his nose almost touches the ground, roars like
a fog-horn until the earth seems to fairly tremble with the
vibration, glares madly upon his adversary with half-white eyeballs,
and with his forefeet paws up the dry earth and throws it upward in
a great cloud of dust high above his back. At such times the mingled
roaring-it can not truthfully be described as lowing or bellowing-of
a number of huge bulls unite and form a great volume of sound like
distant thunder, which has often been heard at a distance of from 1
to 3 miles. I have even been assured by old plainsmen that under
favorable atmospheric conditions such sounds have been heard five
miles.
Notwithstanding the extreme frequency of combats between the bulls
during this season, their results were nearly always harmless,
thanks to the thickness of the hair and hide on the head and
shoulders, and the strength of the neck.
Under no conditions was there ever any such thing as the pairing off
or mating of male and female buffaloes for any length of time. In
the entire process of reproduction the bison's habits were similar
to those of domestic cattle. For years the opinion was held by many,
in some cases based on misinterpreted observations, that in the herd
the identity of each family was partially preserved, and that each
old bull maintained an individual harem and group of progeny of his
own. The observations of Colonel Dodge completely disprove this very
interesting theory; for at best it was only a picturesque fancy,
ascribing to the bison a degree of intelligence which he never
possessed.
At the close of the breeding season the herd quickly settles down to
its normal condition. The mass gradually resolves itself into the
numerous bands or herdlets of from twenty to a hundred individuals,
so characteristic of bison on their feeding grounds, and these
gradually scatter in search of the best grass until the herd covers
many square miles of country.
In his search for grass the buffalo displayed but little
intelligence or power of original thought. Instead of closely
following the divides between water courses where the soil was best
and grass most abundant, he would not hesitate to wander away from
good feeding-grounds into barren "bad lands," covered with
sage-brush, where the grass was very thin and very poor. In such
broken country as Montana, Wyoming, and southwestern Dakota, the
herds, on reaching the best grazing grounds on the divides, would
graze there day after day until increasing thirst compelled them to
seek for water. Then, actuated by a common impulse, the search for a
water-hole was begun in a business-like way. The leader of a herd,
or "bunch," which post was usually filled by an old cow, would start
off down the nearest "draw," or stream-heading, and all the rest
would fall into line and follow her. From the moment this start was
made there was no more feeding, save as a mouthful of grass could be
snatched now and then without turning aside. In single file, in a
line sometimes half a mile long and containing between one and two
hundred buffaloes, the procession slowly marched down the coulée,
close alongside the gully as soon as the water-course began to cut a
pathway for itself. When the gully curved to right or left the
leader would cross its bed and keep straight on until the narrow
ditch completed its wayward curve and came back to the middle of the
coulée. The trail of a herd in search of water is usually as good a
piece of engineering as could be executed by the best railway
surveyor, and is governed by precisely the same principles. It
always follows the level of the valley, swerves around the high
points, and crosses the stream repeatedly in order to avoid climbing
up from the level. The same trail is used again and again by
different herds until the narrow path, not over a foot in width, is
gradually cut straight down into the soil to a depth of several
inches, as if it had been done by a 12-inch grooving-plane. By the
time the trail has been worn down to a depth of 6 or 7 inches,
without having its width increased in the least, it is no longer a
pleasant path to walk in, being too much like a narrow ditch. Then
the buffaloes abandon it and strike out a new one alongside, which
is used until it also is worn down and abandoned.
To day the old buffalo trails are conspicuous among the very few
classes of objects which remain as a reminder of a vanished race.
The herds of cattle now follow them in single file just as the
buffaloes did a few years ago, as they search for water in the same
way. In some parts of the West, in certain situations, old buffalo
trails exist which the wild herds wore down to a depth of 2 feet or
more.
Mile after mile marched the herd, straight down-stream, bound for
the upper water-hole. As the hot summer drew on, the pools would dry
up one by one, those nearest the source being the first to
disappear. Toward the latter part of summer, the journey for water
was often a long one. Hole after hole would be passed without
finding a drop of water. At last a hole of mud would be found, below
that a hole with a little muddy water, and a mile farther on the
leader would arrive at a shallow pool under the edge of a "cut
bank," a white, snow-like deposit of alkali on the sand encircling
its margin, and incrusting the blades of grass and rushed that grew
up from the bottom. The damp earth around the pool was cut up by a
thousand hoof-prints, and the water was warm, strongly impregnated
with alkali, and yellow with animal impurities, but it was water.
The nauseous mixture was quickly surrounded by a throng of thirsty,
heated, and eager buffaloes of all ages, to which the oldest and
strongest asserted claims of priority. There was much crowding and
some fighting, but eventually all were satisfied. After such a long
journey to water, a herd would usually remain by it for some hours,
lying down, resting, and drinking at intervals until completely
satisfied.
Having drunk its fill, the herd would never march directly back to
the choice feeding grounds it had just left, but instead would
leisurely stroll off at a right angle from the course it came,
cropping for awhile the rich bunch grasses of the bottom-lands, and
then wander across the hills in an almost aimless search for fresh
fields and pastures new. When buffaloes remained long in a certain
locality it was a common thing for them to visit the same
watering-place a number of times, at intervals of greater or less
duration, according to circumstances.
When undisturbed on his chosen range, the bison used to be fond of
lying down for an hour or two in the middle of the day, particularly
when fine weather and good grass combined to encourage him in
luxurious habits. I once discovered with the field glass a small
herd of buffaloes lying down at midday on the slope of a high ridge,
and having ridden hard for several hours we seized the opportunity
to unsaddle and give our horses an hour's rest before making the
attack. While we were so doing, the herd got up, shifted its
position to the opposite side of the ridge, and again laid down,
every buffalo with his nose pointing to windward.
Old hunters declare that in the days of their abundance, when
feeding on their ranges in fancied security, the younger animals
were as playful as well-fed domestic calves. It was a common thing
to see them cavort and frisk around with about as much grace as
young elephants, prancing and running to and fro with tails held
high in air "like scorpions."
Buffaloes are very fond of rolling in dry dirt or even in mud, and
this habit is quite strong in captive animals. Not only is it
indulged in during the shedding season, but all through the fall and
winter. The two live buffaloes in the National Museum are so much
given to rolling, even in rainy weather, that it is necessary to
card them every few days to keep them presentable.
Bulls are much more given to rolling than the cows, especially after
they have reached maturity. They stretch out at full length, rub
their heads violently to and fro on the ground, in which the horn
serves as the chief point of contact and slides over the ground like
a sled-runner. After thoroughly scratching one side on mother earth
they roll over and treat the other in like manner. Notwithstanding
his sharp and lofty hump, a buffalo bull can roll completely over
with as much ease as any horse.
The vast amount of rolling and side-scratching on the earth indulged
in by bull buffaloes is shown in the worn condition of the horns of
every old specimen. Often a thickness of half an inch is gone from
the upper half of each horn on its outside curve, at which point the
horn is worn quite flat. This is well illustrated in the horns shown
in the accompanying plate, fig. 6.
Development of the Horns of the American Bison.
1. The Calf. 2. The Yearling. 3. Spike Bull, 2 years old.
4. Spike Bull, 3 years old. 5. Bull, 4 years old.
6. Bull, 11 years old. 7. Old "stub-horn" Bull, 20 years old.
Mr. Catlin36 affords
some very interesting and valuable information in regard to the
bison's propensity for wollowing in mad, and also the origin of the
"fairy circles," which have caused so much speculation amongst
travelers:
"In the heat of summer, these huge animals, which no doubt suffer
very much with the great profusion of their long and shaggy hair, or
fur, often graze on the low grounds of the prairies, where there is
a little stagnant water lying amongst the grass, and the ground
underneath being saturated with it, is soft, into which the enormous
bull, lowered down upon one knee, will plunge his horns, and at last
his head, driving up the earth, and soon making an excavation in the
ground into which the water filters from amongst the grass, forming
for him in a few moments a cool and comfortable bath, into which he
plunges like a hog in his mire.
"In this delectable laver he throws himself flat upon his side, and
forcing himself violently around, with his horns and his huge hump
on his shoulders presented to the sides, he ploughs up the ground by
his rotary motion, sinking himself deeper and deeper in the ground,
continually enlarging his pool, in which he at length becomes nearly
immersed, and the water and mud about him mixed into a complete
mortar, which changes his color and drips in streams from every part
of him as he rises up upon his feet, a hideous monster of mud and
ugliness, too frightful and too eccentric to be described!
"It is generally the leader of the herd that takes upon him to make
this excavation, and if not (but another one opens the ground), the
leader (who is conqueror) marches forward, and driving the other
from it plunges himself into it; and, having cooled his sides and
changed his color to a walking mass of mud and mortar, he stands in
the pool until inclination induces him to step out and give place to
the next in command who stands ready, and another, and another, who
advance forward in their turns to enjoy the luxury of the wallow,
until the whole band (sometimes a hundred or more) will pass through
it in turn,37 each one
throwing his body around in a similar manner and each one adding a
little to the dimensions of the pool, while he carries away in his
hair an equal share of the clay, which dries to a gray or whitish
color and gradually falls off. By this operation, which is done
perhaps in the space of half an hour, a circular excavation of
fifteen or twenty feet in diameter and two feet in depth is
completed and left for the water to run into, which soon fills it to
the level of the ground.
"To these sinks, the waters lying on the surface of the prairies are
continually draining and in them lodging their vegetable deposits,
which after a lapse of years fill them up to the surface with a rich
soil, which throws up an unusual growth of grass and herbage,
forming conspicuous circles, which arrest the eye of the traveler
and are calculated to excite his surprise for ages to come."
During the latter part of the last century, when the bison inhabited
Kentucky and Pennsylvania, the salt springs of those States were
resorted to by thousands of those animals, who drank of the saline
waters and licked the impregnated earth. Mr. Thomas Ashe38
affords us a most interesting account, from the testimony of an eye
witness, of the behavior of a bison at a salt spring. The
description refers to a locality in western Pennsylvania, where "an
old man, one of the first settlers of this country, built his log
house on the immediate borders of a salt spring. He informed me that
for the first several seasons the buffaloes paid him their visits
with the utmost regularity; they traveled in single files, always
following each other at equal distances, forming droves, on their
arrival, of about 300 each.
"The first and second years, so unacquainted were these poor brutes
with the use of this man's house or with his nature, that in a few
hours they rubbed the house completely down, taking delight in
turning the logs off with their horns, while he had some difficulty
to escape from being trampled under their feet or crushed to death
in his own ruins. At that period he supposed there could not have
been less than 2,000 in the neighborhood of the spring. They sought
for no manner of food, but only bathed and drank three or four times
a day and rolled in the earth, or reposed with their flanks
distended in the adjacent shades; and on the fifth and sixth days
separated into distinct droves, bathed, drank, and departed in
single files, according to the exact order of their arrival. They
all rolled successively in the same hole, and each thus carried away
a coat of mud to preserve the moisture on their skin and which, when
hardened and baked in the sun, would resist the stings of millions
of insects that otherwise would persecute these peaceful travelers
to madness or even death."
It was a fixed habit with the great buffalo herds to move southward
from 200 to 400 miles at the approach of winter. Sometimes this
movement was accomplished quietly and without any excitement, but at
other times it was done with a rush, in which considerable distances
would be gone over on the double quick. The advance of a herd was
often very much like that of a big army, in a straggling line, from
four to ten animals abreast. Sometimes the herd moved forward in a
dense mass, and in consequence often came to grief in quicksand,
alkali bogs, muddy crossings, and on treacherous ice. In such places
thousands of buffaloes lost their lives, through those in the lead
being forced into danger by pressure of the mass coming behind. In
this manner, in the summer of 1867, over two thousand buffaloes, out
of a herd of about four thousand, lost their lives in the quicksand
of the Platte River, near Plum Creek, while attempting to cross. One
winter, a herd of nearly a hundred buffaloes attempted to cross a
lake called Lac-qui-parle, in Minnesota, upon the ice, which gave
way, and drowned the entire herd. During the days of the buffalo it
was a common thing for voyagers on the Missouri River to see
buffaloes hopelessly mired in the quicksand or mud along the shore,
either dead or dying, and to find their dead bodies floating down
the river, or lodged on the upper ends of the islands and sand-bars.
Such accidents as these: it may be repeated, were due to the great
number of animals and the momentum of the moving mass. The forced
marches of the great herds were like the flight of a routed army, in
which helpless individuals were thrust into mortal peril by the
irresistible force of the mass coming behind, which rushes blindly
on after their leaders. In this way it was possible to decoy a herd
toward a precipice and cause it to plunge over en masse, the leaders
being thrust over by their followers, and all the rest following of
their own free will, like the sheep who cheerfully leaped, one after
another, through a hole in the side of a high bridge because their
bell-wether did so.
But it is not to be understood that the movement of a great herd,
because it was made on a run, necessarily partook of the nature of a
stampede in which a herd sweeps forward in a body. The most graphic
account that I ever obtained of facts bearing on this point was
furnished by Mr. James McNaney, drawn from his experience on the
northern buffalo range in 1882. His party reached the range (on
Beaver Creek, about 100 miles south of Glendive) about the middle of
November, and found buffaloes already there; in fact they had begun
to arrive from the north as early as the middle of October. About
the first of December an immense herd arrived from the north. It
reached their vicinity one night, about 10 o'clock, in a mass that
seemed to spread everywhere. As the hunters sat in their tents,
loading cartridges and cleaning their rifles, a low rumble was
heard, which gradually increased to "a thundering noise," and some
one exclaimed, "There! that's a big herd of buffalo coming in!" All
ran out immediately, and hallooed and discharged rifles to keep the
buffaloes from running over their tents. Fortunately, the horses
were picketed some distance away in a grassy coulée, which the
buffaloes did not enter. The herd came at a jog trot, and moved
quite rapidly. "In the morning the whole country was black with
buffalo." It was estimated that 10,000 head were in sight. One
immense detachment went down on to a "flat" and laid down. There it
remained quietly, enjoying a long rest, for about ten days. It
gradually broke up into small bands, which strolled off in various
directions looking for food, and which the hunters quietly attacked.
A still more striking event occurred about Christmas time at the
same place. For a few days the neighborhood of McNaney's camp had
been entirely deserted by buffaloes, not even one remaining. But one
morning about daybreak a great herd which was traveling south began
to pass their camp. A long line of moving forms was seen advancing
rapidly from the northwest, coming in the direction of the hunters'
camp. It disappeared in the creek valley for a few moments, and
presently the leaders suddenly came in sight again at the top of "a
rise" a few hundred yards away, and came down the intervening slope
at full speed, within 50 yards of the two tents. After them came a
living stream of followers, all going at a gallop, described by the
observer as "a long lope," from four to ten buffaloes abreast.
Sometimes there would be a break in the column of a minute's
duration, then more buffaloes would appear at the brow of the hill,
and the column went rushing by as before. The calves ran with their
mothers, and the young stock got over the ground with much less
exertion than the older animals. For about four hours, or until past
11 o'clock, did this column of buffaloes gallop past the camp over a
course no wider than a village street. Three miles away toward the
south the long dark line of bobbing humps and hind quarters wound to
the right between two hills and disappeared. True to their
instincts, the hunters promptly brought out their rifles, and began
to fire at the buffaloes as they ran. A furious fusilade was kept up
from the very doors of the tents, and from first to last over fifty
buffaloes were killed. Some fell headlong the instant they were hit,
but the greater number ran on until their mortal wounds compelled
them to halt, draw off a little way to one side, and finally fall in
their death struggles.
Mr. McNaney stated that the hunters estimated the number of
buffaloes on that portion of the range that winter (1881-'82) at
100,000.
It is probable, and in fact reasonably certain, that such
forced-march migrations as the above were due to snow-covered
pastures and a scarcity of food on the more northern ranges. Having
learned that a journey south will bring him to regions of less snow
and more grass, it is but natural that so lusty a traveler should
migrate. The herds or bands which started south in the fall months
traveled more leisurely, with frequent halts to graze on rich
pastures. The advance was on a very different plan, taking place in
straggling lines and small groups dispersed over quite a scope of
country.
Unless closely pursued, the buffalo never chose to make a journey of
several miles through hilly country on a continuous run. Even when
fleeing from the attack of a hunter, I have often had occasion to
notice that, if the hunter was a mile behind, the buffalo would
always walk when going uphill; but as soon as the crest was gained
he would begin to run, and go down the slope either at a gallop or a
swift trot. In former times, when the buffalo's world was wide, when
retreating from an attack he always ran against the wind, to avoid
running upon a new danger, which showed that he depended more upon
his sense of smell than his eye-sight. During the last years of his
existence, however, this habit almost totally disappeared, and the
harried survivors learned to run for the regions which offered the
greatest safety. But even to-day, if a Texas hunter should go into
the Staked Plains, and descry in the distance a body of animals
running against the wind, he would, without a moment's hesitation,
pronounce them buffaloes, and the chances are that he would be
right.
In winter the buffalo used to face the storms, instead of turning
tail and "drifting" before them helplessly, as domestic cattle do.
But at the same time, when beset by a blizzard, he would wisely seek
shelter from it in some narrow and deep valley or system of ravines.
There the herd would lie down and wait patiently for the storm to
cease. After a heavy fall of snow, the place to find the buffalo was
in the flats and creek bottoms, where the tall, rank bunch-grasses
showed their tops above the snow, and afforded the best and almost
the only food obtainable.
When the snow-fall was unusually heavy, and lay for a long time on
the ground, the buffalo was forced to fast for days together, and
sometimes even weeks. If a warm day came, and thawed the upper
surface of the snow sufficiently for succeeding cold to freeze it
into a crust, the outlook for the bison began to be serious. A man
can travel over a crust through which the hoofs of a ponderous bison
cut like chisels and leave him floundering belly-deep. It was at
such times that the Indians hunted him on snow-shoes, and drove
their spears into his vitals as he wallowed helplessly in the
drifts. Then the wolves grew fat upon the victims which they, also,
slaughtered almost without effort.
Although buffaloes did not often actually perish from hunger and
cold during the severest winters (save in a few very exceptional
cases), they often came out in very poor condition. The old bulls
always suffered more severely than the rest, and at the end of
winter were frequently in miserable plight.
Unlike most other terrestrial quadrupeds of America, so long as
he could roam at will the buffalo had settled migratory habits.39
While the elk and black-tail deer change their altitude twice a
year, in conformity with the approach and disappearance of winter,
the buffalo makes a radical change of latitude. This was most
noticeable in the great western pasture region, where the herds were
most numerous and their movements most easily observed.
At the approach of winter the whole great system of herds which
ranged from the Peace River to the Indian Territory moved south a
few hundred miles, and wintered under more favorable circumstances
than each band would have experienced at its farthest north. Thus it
happened that nearly the whole of the great range south of the
Saskatchewan was occupied by buffaloes even in winter.
The movement north began with the return of mild weather in the
early spring. Undoubtedly this northward migration was to escape the
heat of their southern winter range rather than to find better
pasture; for as a grazing country for cattle all the year round,
Texas is hardly surpassed, except where it is overstocked. It was
with the buffaloes a matter of choice rather than necessity which
sent them on their annual pilgrimage northward.
Col. R. I. Dodge, who has made many valuable observations on the
migratory habits of the southern buffaloes, has recorded the
following:40
"Early in spring, as soon as the dry and apparently desert prairie
had begun to change its coat of dingy brown to one of palest green,
the horizon would begin to be dotted with buffalo, single or in
groups of two or three, forerunners of the coming herd. Thicker and
thicker and in larger groups they come, until by the time the grass
is well up the whole vast landscape appears a mass of buffalo, some
individuals feeding, others standing, others lying down, but the
herd moving slowly, moving constantly to the northward. Some years,
as in 1871, the buffalo appeared to move northward in one immense
column oftentimes from 20 to 50 miles in width, and of unknown depth
from front to rear. Other years the northward journey was made in
several parallel columns, moving at the same rate, and with their
numerous flankers covering a width of a hundred or more miles.
"The line of march of this great spring migration was not always the
same, though it was confined within certain limits. I am informed by
old frontiersmen that it has not within twenty-five years crossed
the Arkansas River east of Great Bend nor west of Big Sand Creek.
The most favored routes crossed the Arkansas at the mouth of Walnut
Creek, Pawnee Fork, Mulberry Creek, the Cimarron Crossing, and Big
Sand Creek.
"As the great herd proceeds northward it is constantly depleted,
numbers wandering off to the right and left, until finally it is
scattered in small herds far and wide over the vast feeding grounds,
where they pass the summer.
"When the food in one locality fails they go to another, and towards
fall, when the grass of the high prairie becomes parched by the heat
and drought, they gradually work their way back to the south,
concentrating on the rich pastures of Texas and the Indian
Territory, whence, the same instinct acting on all, they are ready
to start together on the northward march as soon as spring starts
the grass."
So long as the bison held undisputed possession of the great plains
his migratory habits were as above-regular, general, and on a scale
that was truly grand. The herds that wintered in Texas, the Indian
Territory, and New Mexico probably spent their summers in Nebraska,
southwestern Dakota, and Wyoming. The winter herds of northern
Colorado, Wyoming, Nebraska, and southern Dakota went to northern
Dakota and Montana, while the great Montana herds spent the summer
on the Grand Coteau des Prairies lying between the Saskatchewan and
the Missouri. The two great annual expeditions of the Red River
half-breeds, which always took place in summer, went in two
directions from Winnipeg and Pembina-one, the White Horse Plain
division, going westward along the Qu'Appelle to the Saskatchewan
country, and the other, the Red River division, southwest into
Dakota. In 1840 the site of the present city of Jamestown, Dakota,
was the northeastern limit of the herds that summered in Dakota, and
the country lying between that point and the Missouri was for years
the favorite hunting ground of the Red River division.
The herds which wintered on the Montana ranges always went north in
the early spring, usually in March, so that during the time the
hunters were hauling in the hides taken on the winter hunt the
ranges were entirely deserted. It is equally certain, however, that
a few small bauds remained in certain portions of Montana throughout
the summer. But the main body crossed the international boundary,
and spent the summer on the plains of the Saskatchewan, where they
were hunted by the half-breeds from the Red River settlements and
the Indians of the plains. It is my belief that in this movement
nearly all the buffaloes of Montana and Dakota participated, and
that the herds which spent the summer in Dakota, where they were
annually hunted by the Red River half-breeds, came up from Kansas,
Colorado, and Nebraska.
While most of the calves were born on the summer ranges, many were
brought forth en route. It was the habit of the cows to retire to a
secluded spot, if possible a ravine well screened from observation,
bring forth their young, and nourish and defend them until they were
strong enough to join the herd. Calves were born all the time from
March to July, and sometimes even as late as August. On the summer
ranges it was the habit of the cows to leave the bulls at calving
time, and thus it often happened that small herds were often seen
composed of bulls only. Usually the cow produced but one calf, but
twins were not uncommon. Of course many calves were brought forth in
the herd, but the favorite habit of the cow was as stated. As soon
as the young calves were brought into the herd, which for prudential
reasons occurred at the earliest possible moment, the bulls assumed
the duty of protecting them from the wolves which at all times
congregated in the vicinity of a herd, watching for an opportunity
to seize a calf or a wounded buffalo which might be left behind. A
calf always follows its mother until its successor is appointed and
installed, unless separated from her by force of circumstances. They
suck until they are nine months old, or even older, and Mr. McNaney
once saw a lusty calf suck its mother (in January) on the Montana
range several hours after she had been killed for her skin.
When a buffalo is wounded it leaves the herd immediately and goes
off as far from the line of pursuit as it can get, to escape the
rabble of hunters, who are sure to follow the main body. If any deep
ravines are at hand the wounded animal limps away to the bottom of
the deepest and most secluded one, and gradually works his way up to
its very head, where he finds himself in a perfect cul-de-sac,
barely wide enough to admit him. Here he is so completely hidden by
the high walls and numerous bends that his pursuer must needs come
within a few feet of his horns before his huge bulk is visible. I
have more than once been astonished at the real impregnability of
the retreats selected by wounded bison. In following up wounded
bulls in ravine headings it always became too dangerous to make the
last stage of the pursuit on horseback, for fear of being caught in
a passage so narrow as to insure a fatal accident to man or horse in
case of a sudden discovery of the quarry. I have seen wounded bison
shelter in situations where a single bull could easily defend
himself from a whole pack of wolves, being completely walled in on
both sides and the rear, and leaving his foes no point of attack
save his head and horns.
Bison which were nursing serious wounds most often have gone many
days at a time without either food or water, and in this connection
it may be mentioned that the recuperative power of a bison is really
wonderful. Judging from the number of old leg wounds, fully healed,
which I have found in freshly killed bisons, one may be tempted to
believe that a bison never died of a broken leg. One large bull
which I skeletonized had had his humerus shot squarely in two, but
it had united again more firmly than ever. Another large bull had
the head of his left femur and the hip socket shattered completely
to pieces by a big ball, but he had entirely recovered from it, and
was as lusty a runner as any bull we chased. We found that while a
broken leg was a misfortune to a buffalo, it always took something
more serious than that to stop him.
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Source:
The
Extermination of the American Bison,
1886-’87, By William T. Hornaday, Government Printing Office,
Washington, 1889
Extermination of the American Bison
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