Part 15

Corresponding in number but larger in size is the blue grouse, of the fir and cedar forests of Western Washington. I hardly know how to describe this bird--one of the finest of game-birds. His habitat in the winter or rainy season is the dark, gloomy, and thick forests of fir and cedar trees. There he dwells, possibly with his chosen mate, silently and noiselessly, and in a state of semi-hibernation, until the genial warmth of spring arouses his love, and he and his mate descend to the sunny lowlands or ridges for the rearing of their numerous family. After they have found a suitable or familiar location, the male selects some fir or cedar tree, or clump of fir or cedar trees, in the vicinage, and during the nesting season keeps up a continual love-call to notify his presence, or by his silence or flight to warn her of threatened danger. When the bevy of beauties are fully hatched, the male descends from his eminence and spends his time in assisting care and watchfulness. Perched on some tall tree in their immediate vicinity, he by calls warns his mate of approaching danger, and by the direction of his flight indicates a place of safety. His mate and the youngsters soon follow, if able to fly; if not, they remain under the care of the mother, deftly hidden under the leaves or grass; after which, she often flies away by short flights with simulated disabled indications, to invite pursuit; and thus save her young. When the young are fully grown and strong of wing they all depart for the deep woods, and no more is seen or heard of them until the coming spring. Until the young are fully grown and the time of their departure has arrived, they are often found in large bevies or flocks; but when that time, late in the fall, has arrived, they silently depart for their winter home.

Killed in early spring, their flesh is so strongly tinctured with the flavor of the buds of the fir and cedar, their winter food, as to be unpalatable to most persons; but if killed in the fall, after a summer's diet of insects, seeds, grain and berries, their flesh is of a delicious flavor and greatly relished. This excellent game-bird, though decreasing in number from the general causes already stated, will, on account of its mode of existence, long escape the doom of annihilation.

The sand-hill crane rarely visits Western Washington. He is more frequently seen in the Eastern half of the State.

There remains but one other game-bird for notice, and that is the sage-hen of the sage-covered valleys and plains of Eastern Washington. This bird does not exist west of the Cascade Mountains. It is anti-gregarious, save as in the consorting cares of a numerous family. When the young arrive at full growth they pair off and separate, and the family relations are no longer recognized. If the males are less numerous than the females, polygamy is allowed. This is a law, however, that runs through many of the bird families. The cock is a bird midway in size between the common domestic fowl and the turkey, and has long legs. He is a good runner. He rarely takes to the wing, and then only when hard pressed. His flight is low but swift, and he soon drops to the ground and speeds away on his legs to a place of safety. His food in winter consists of leaves and buds of the sagebrush; and when killed in the early spring his meat is too strongly impregnated with the rather acrid and unpalatable flavor of the sage, to be relished; but if bagged in the fall, after a summer's feeding on insects, seeds and grain, his flesh is savory and delicious.

I ought possibly, to make a brief statement, as to the Mongolian pheasant, and the Chinese rice quail--both of which, in limited numbers have been brought to Western Washington and turned loose here. Their increase has not been as great as anticipated. In Oregon however, the increase of the Mongolian pheasant has been phenominal. It abounds every where in the great Willamette Valley. It seems to love an alternation of grain fields and contiguous chaparral cover. It is emphatically a seed feeder or graniverous bird. The female, with the nursing assistance of the male, usually raises two large broods per year. This accounts for its great and rapid increase under favorable conditions. In size this bird is slightly larger than the prairie chicken--has long legs--is a rapid runner--and when it takes to wing is a low and rapid flyer.

In Western Washington the limited number of grain fields and the absence of contiguous open ground--seems to be unfavorable to their rapid increase. Still in the cultivated valleys where these conditions exist, they are fact increasing in numbers despite the fact that they are an easy prey to the pot hunter.

Of the China rice quail, I know accurately, but little. There were for a time a few flocks of these birds in the vicinity of Seattle; but they have almost entirely disappeared. Whether such disappearance is attributable to the lack of food or to the persistent activity of the trap hunter I am not able to say. They preserve their family or flock relations until late in the spring, and hence the bevy may be swept out of existence by one successful fall of the trap. From my observation and limited study of their habits, I would say that they were chaparral, or tulie birds, with their choice habitat near human habitations. In size they are slightly smaller than the bob-white and their flesh is delicious.

Washington is emphatically a game country. The hunter may here realize his fondest hopes. The elk, mountain sheep or goat, deer, bear--black, brown and cinnamon--cougar, lynx, wild-cat, in their native and congenial habitat--I would not forget the wolf--can always be found. I propose to notice each class briefly in its order.

First, then of the Elk. The mountains, with their barren ridges, their wooded slopes and sunlit coves of peavine, clover and nutritious grasses, as well as the dark forests of the foothills, are their congenial habitat. Rarely are they found in the lowlands, and then only when they are forced from their mountain-home by the deepening snow. They have been styled the antlered monarchs of the forests, and this description is not inapt. If suddenly, within short range you startle from their secluded sylvan couch a band of forty, fifty or more of these antlered monarchs, with horns erect and every eye turned upon you as an enemy, you are deeply impressed with the majesty of their bearing. Soon, in obedience to the danger-call of certain warning whistles, they speedily form into line under some veteran and well-recognized-leader, and speed away in single-file for miles, over a country impassable to the hunter, before a halt is called. The hunter who does not improve his chance effectively when the game is started from its couch has lost his opportunity, perhaps forever.

This noble game seems to love the Coast Range of mountains, and there exists in large herds and numbers. This is especially true of the Olympic Range. If this kingly game-animal is to be saved from utter annihilation, stringent laws must not only be enacted for his protection and preservation, but must also be vigorously enforced.

Heretofore, they have been slaughtered in large numbers for their hides, their horns and their teeth; while their carcasses have been left where the life-struggle ended, to be devoured by the wolf, cougar, lynx or wild-cat.

While the mountains bordering on the Ocean seem to be preferred by this antlered monarch, yet he may be found in considerable numbers on the Cascade Range, especially on its timber-slope and in the dense forests on its foothills.

I have killed quite a number of these noble animals, but never, under any circumstances, where I could not make uses of the carcass. I never had, or experienced any joy arising from the mere love of slaughter. With gun in hand, with hunter's blood in your veins, and noble game within easy range, it requires a high degree of moral courage to refuse to manipulate the trigger of your trusty rifle. With carniverous, or dangerous animals it is different; slaughter becomes a virtue and not a vice.

The habitat of the mountain sheep, or goat is on and around the barren peaks and ranges of the higher formation of mountains. He is a wary animal, hard to approach and difficult of shot. He is always so located that a single bound puts him out of sight. If perchance, you could make an effective shot as he leaps from narrow bench, to narrow bench, down the rocky and steep side of the mountain, of what use would he be to you?

I have succeeded in killing but one. I have hunted the mountain districts where they are plentiful, and I had determined to kill one if possible. I hunted slowly, cautiously and stealthily. I frequently caught sight of them leaping down the mountain side. At last I aroused one from his couch and shot him on his first jump. He rolled down the mountain-side a short distance, but with some difficulty I dragged him to the top of the ridge. His meat was sweet, juicy and delicious, greatly relished by all the party. I had, had glory enough, and never specially hunted them again.

The black, brown and cinnamon bear are natives of Washington, and their numbers are in the order given. A bear is a semi-carniverous animal; he lives on fish, berries, succulent and saccharine roots, larva, honey, and is especially found of pork. He appeases his appetite for fish by a nocturnal visitation of the rivers in which the salmon run, especially in the salmon season; he roams through the woods in the berry season and feeds on the toothsome food present in the forest. He unearths the yellow-jacket's scanty storehouse of honey, and consumes it and the larvae of the nest; he invades the farmer's domain and carries off some of his most promising porkers. The habitat of the brown, and cinnamon bear is the mountains and their foothills. They are not often seen unless you invade their solitary domain. I am not prepared to say what is their principal food, but suppose it to be the same as their kinsman the black bear.

The cougar is a native of this State and can be found where dense thickets and dark forests exist. He is a sly, skulking and treacherous animal, mostly nocturnal in his destructive visitations. I have often gone on a brief hunting-trip into the foothills of the mountains when they were slightly covered with snow, and a dense fog would settle down, obscuring all landmarks; but, in obedience to a safe rule, have retraced my steps to the foot of the hills on my return home. On several of these occasions I have found that a cougar had come upon my trail shortly after I had entered the hills, and had stealthily and continuously followed me up to within seven, or eight rods of the point of my return. When I commenced my return, he, no doubt, leaped off into the covering brush, and, although sharply looked for by me, the dense fog and the thick brush hid him from my view.

The cougar is strictly a carniverous animal. His principal food is the deer; and it is said that he requires two a month for his subsistence. That he is a good feeder is evident from the fact that he is always sleek and in excellent condition. He has a great love for the meat of the colt, and is consequently a terror to breeders in that line. He is not a hater of veal or pork, but does not prefer the latter.

He is generally considered a dangerous animal, and numerous are the stories told of fortunate escapes from his ferocity. Many of these stories have no foundation other than the surrounding darkness, the rustling of the leaves, or the twigs by the wind, and a lively imagination. While some of these narrations have an element of truth in them, they are generally greatly exaggerated. But let me be understood that when he is pressed by hunger and famished for want of food, I do consider the cougar a dangerous animal. Few, however, are the reliable accounts of his attacks on the lonely traveler in the woods, even under such conditions. Two instances have occurred since my residence in the Puget Sound Basin, which, from my acquaintance with the parties, I am willing to vouch for. A friend temporarily stopping at Mukilteo desired to go to Snohomish City, a distance on an air-line of about six miles; there were two routes--one, by steamer or canoe, of full twice that distance; the other by trail almost directly through a dense forest. Being an expert woodsman, he chose the latter route. He was unarmed, and had not even a pocket knife. He spoke of his defenseless condition on the eve of his departure, but he feared no danger. He had proceeded about a mile-and-a-half on his journey when, in a dense fir and cedar forest, he met a cougar in the trail. The animal commenced stealthily to crawl towards him after the manner of the cat approaching his prey, purring as he came. My friend made a loud outcry, but this did not interrupt the cougar's slow and stealthy approach. It would have been more than useless to run--so he braced himself for the final spring. When the animal came near he stood sideways to the brute; and when the cougar made a spring, he presented his left arm and the cougar seized it midway between the wrist and the elbow, and pushed him hard to throw him off his feet, but failed. Being a strong and muscular man, and his right arm being free, he struck the cougar on the nose, a hard blow with his clenched fist. The cougar, however, kept his hold. Summoning up all his energy, he struck the second blow on the nose of his enemy, and while it drew blood the cougar still held on. Satisfied of the insufficiency of such a mode of defense, and casting his eyes about him, he saw a portion of a cedar limb standing upright in the brush several feet from him--the limb being about two inches in diameter and three feet in length--and he suffered the cougar to push him in the direction of the limb. Having obtained it, he struck the cougar a powerful blow across his face, and, although the cougar winced some, the effect was for the animal to sink his teeth deeper into the imprisoned arm. My friend concentrated all of his energy and struck a second blow with his club. This blow was temporarily stunning and effective. The cougar released his hold on the bleeding arm and, dazed somewhat, disappeared in the surrounding forest. My friend retraced his steps to Mukilteo, now a suburb of the busy and prosperous City of Everett.

One more instance: A gentleman of the name of Cartwright was in former years an extensive logger on the Snohomish River in the Puget Sound basin. At the time of the occurrence I am about to relate, he had a large logging camp about three miles above Snohomish City. There had been a deep fall of snow, and he left his home and went to the logging-camp to see how the operation was affected by the unusual snow. On his return late in the afternoon, he met a large cougar in the snow-beaten trail. The cougar slowly approached him in the manner described in the first instance. Mr. Cartwright was wholly unarmed; he tried to alarm the cougar by a wild outcry, but to no purpose, so far as the cougar was concerned. Some sixty rods away there was a bachelor's cabin. The bachelor had three fierce dogs and they promptly answered Mr. Cartwright's signal of danger; and their master, being at home, urged them to the rescue. When their welcome bay approached, the cougar ceased his purring, stood up, and soon leaped off into the dark forest and disappeared, very much to Mr. Cartwright's relief. He presently reached the river, unmoored his boat, and with the aid of a strong current soon reached his home.

An Experience of My Own

In the summer of 1855, I accompanied a hunting and fishing party, high up into the Cascade Mountains. Our route was along the Santiam River, and we made our final camp, at the west end of a narrow prairie, that stretched along for over a mile at the foot of the mountain ridge, on the south side of the river--a short distance beyond, was the highest table land, or dividing plateau of the mountains. The fishing was excellent--the hunting--it being the month of August, was indifferent; because the black-tailed buck at that season was lying in some sunny spot on the mountain side near water and grass--hardening his horns.

My companions in wandering or climbing along the brush covered sides of the mountains, had several times started a large buck who passed down the sides of the mountains by, to him, a well known but secret trail, and crossed the head of the narrow prairie, and then dashed through the thick brush by an accustomed trail to the river below. The space between this prairie and the river, was a succession of descending benches. These benches had before this time been covered with a very thick growth of fir. When this fir had reached the height of eight or ten feet, a fire ran through, and killed nearly all of it, and another growth of fir had sprung up, making the descent to the river an almost impassable tangled mass. As we were out of venison, it was proposed that I take two rifles and go to the head of this narrow prairie, while my companions should go up on the mountain side, and by the making of a great deal of noise, start this buck from his sylvan retreat, and when he came down the mountain and crossed the upper end of the prairie, I should improve the opportunity to kill him. The plan worked admirably. He came through the thick brush on the mountain side, and dashed across the prairie. When he was nearly opposite to me, I fired at him with my own rifle, but struck him a little too far back. Before I could get the second rifle in my hands, he was in the brush and out of sight. I reloaded my own rifle, and went to the spot where he was when I fired, and I found that he was shot through the lungs, because the blood came out in sprays; and as it came out on both sides the bullet had evidently, passed through him. I followed him up slowly, by crawling through the brush--sometimes on my hands and knees, and at other times, after the manner of a serpent. He stopped frequently. When he did, he left a small pool of blood. My judgment was that the bullet struck him while he was stretched out, and that the skin closed at time over the mouth of the wound; and that he was bleeding internally--I concluded that as soon as he attempted to go down a steep incline, the blood would rush forward and smother him.

I approached a gully or deep ravine, which he must cross, and I carefully kept a big ash tree, that stood on the rim of the gully, between me and the gully. When I arrived at the tree I stealthily looked down into the gully and saw the buck in a small open space, and also a large cougar, standing along his back intently looking at him in the face. I muffled the cock of my rifle, and soon sent a bullet through the cougar's head. He fell beside the dead buck. Disregarding the safe rule of the hunter, without loading my rifle, I slipped down the steep incline and with the breech of my rifle I straightened out his tail, and was just in the act of pacing to ascertain his length from the tip of his tail to the end of the nose, for that is the hunter's rule for determining the size. Just as I was in the act of doing this, a small quantity of fine white bark fell on me and all around me, I looked up and on a large limb of the ash tree, nearly directly over my head, I saw a female cougar. Her hair was raised up, her back bowed, and her tail rolling. She was crouched for a spring. I kept my eyes upon her, raised my powder-horn to my mouth and pulled out the stopper with my teeth--then felt for the muzzle of the gun and poured until I thought I had powder enough, and soon after found that I did have plenty. I then took a bullet out of my pouch and rammed it down without a patch--dropped the ramrod to the ground and put a cap on the nipple. Then I gently raised the gun towards her, and she showing a good deal of agitation, drew herself up into a menacing attitude as prepared to spring--but I quickly fired and she came from the limb seemingly leaping as though she had not been struck at all. I jumped back a few feet, but her nose brushed me as she was descending to the ground. She fell dead at my feet. I had my hunting-knife in my hand ready to plunge it into her if she moved--but the bullet had done its work effectually.

I have always been of the opinion that I shot her just as she was in the act of making a leap upon me. I loaded my rifle and then crawled to the top of the gully, and my companions soon joined me. I rehearsed my adventure to them, and after so doing, one of them went for a pack-mule, while the others sought out a passable route through the brush to the prairie. The mule protested against his load, but blind-folding allayed his fears.

A Battle Rarely Seen

Late in the fall of 1867, I accompanied the Hon. P. P. Prim, who was District Judge for Jackson and Josephine Counties, Oregon, from Jacksonville to Kerbyville--the county seat of Josephine County--to attend a term of court to be held at Kerbyville in the last named county. The Honorable James D. Fay, and also other lawyers accompanied the Judge to Josephine court. There had been high water and sweeping floods which had rendered the crossing of the Applegate River on the bridge, which was located about two miles above the Applegate's junction with Rogue River, dangerous and impassable. So as we were making the journey on horse back, we crossed Applegate about twenty miles above the bridge and pursued our journey along and over the foothills on the left bank of the river, intending to stop at a hotel on Slate Creek on the left bank of the Applegate, and on the north bank of said creek about two miles from said hotel. Passing across the mouth of a cove in the hills, we heard to our left a noise, and looking in that direction, we saw a female cougar and a mealy-nosed brown bear engaged in a bloody battle. We stopped and watched the fight for about half an hour. The battle ground was on a gentley sloping grass-covered side hill. The bear persistently kept the upper side. The cougar kept in front of him. The cougar was forcing the fighting. The battle proceeded with almost regular rounds. The cougar paced back and forth in front of the bear for a few moments; the bear intently watching her movements, when she would make a spring; the contact was furious. Sometimes they would seize each other with the jaw-hold, and to our astonishment the cougar was more than a match for the bear in this hold, and the bear made every effort to break it--throwing himself upon the ground, and digging furiously into the cougar with the claws of his hind legs. By these means he would speedily break the jaw-hold of the cougar. The hold having been broken, and the combatants having separated, the cougar would pace back and forth in front of the bear for a few moments and then leap upon him again. Sometimes the bear would hug the cougar closely, and use the claws of his hind feet with terrific effect. Thus the fight proceeded. Both were covered with blood. The bear would quietly sit during the intermissions in the fight. As the day was fast waining, we left them still fighting, determining that we would go to Slate creek--cross it--get some rifles from our host, and then return; but when we came to Slate creek, we found it a raging torrent--overflowing its banks, and spreading out over its narrow valley. Our host, anticipating our coming, had selected a place for our crossing of the creek. We had to swim our horses across the dangerous current for some twenty or twenty-five feet, and although we successfully made it, yet we were thoroughly wet. Although our host having hunter's blood in his veins, was anxious to go to the scene of the conflict, yet we so dreaded the crossing and re-crossing of Slate creek that we denied ourselves the pleasure.