Scourge of the Santa Monica Mountains 



By W. D. MATTHEW 



HE stood, looking out from the rocky 

 crest of mountain over the broad 

 open valley that stretched for miles 

 before him. It all belonged to him 

 by "weapon-right" — to him and his race, 

 by their strength and activity and the terri- 

 ble curving sabres that were their favorite 

 weapons. Individually or jointly none of 

 the inhabitants of the plain dare dispute 

 their sovereignty; bloody and merciless 

 tyrants though they were, none could suc- 

 cessfully resist them. Well might he stand, 

 fearless and majestic, viewing the scattered 

 timid groups of great pachyderms from whom 

 he intended to select his next victim. 



Before him lay the Los Angeles valley, 

 wide, grass-covered, with clumps of trees and 

 bushes dotting its surface. Near by were a 

 few springs and water holes in a dry torrent 

 bed that led down into Ballona Creek; to 

 the eastward, in the hazy distance, he could 

 trace the course of the river and beyond it 

 the dim outline of the forest-clad mountains, 

 all shimmering in the heat of a tropic summer 

 day. Through a notch in the mountain spur 

 to the southwest came trotting in single file 

 a bunch of wild horses, bound from the up- 

 lands to the water holes in the valley. Swift 

 handsome animals they were, dun-colored and 

 obscurely striped, with heavy black manes 

 and zebra-like heads. They came down the 

 trail in an irregular broken line, two or three 

 intimate companions trotting or running 

 close together, the whole headed by a great 

 piebald stallion of unusual size and strength. 

 The sabre-tooth watched these for a few 

 minutes as they approached. Should he 

 select one of them for his prey? No, it 

 would mean careful stalking and ambushing 

 them at the water hole, and they were too 

 swift and wary for him to have more than an 

 off-chance of securing one. It was too warm 



Note. — The American Museum of Natural History 

 has arranged to secure a complete series of duplicates 

 representing the fossil fauna of Rancho-Ia-Brea, Mar, 

 Los Angeles, from the collections of the University of 

 California. The asphalt group, the individual mounted 

 skeletons of the sabre-tooth and the great wolf, and 

 skulls of the extinct horse and the great California lion 

 are now exhibited in the Tertiary mammal hall. [See 

 the Journal for November, 1913, pp. 291-297, for 

 detailed description of the group with illustrations.] 



a tlay, and he was not desperately hungry. 

 He would levy his tribute some other time. 



To the left, among the brush-covered sandy 

 slopes that stretched along the foot of the 

 moimtain chain, a number of camels were 

 browsing upon the bushes and small trees, 

 stripping the leaves from the young shoots 

 as far up as they could reach. The.se were 

 big animals, taller than a modern camel, 

 long-legged and clumsy in gait, with a heavy 

 coat of shaggy hair of desert brown color, the 

 body short and with no hump. They too, 

 despite their apparent clumsiness and stupid 

 appearance, were swift and wary creatures, 

 little disposed to come within reach of the 

 danger of an ambuscade and far too speedy 

 to capture in an open chase. The sabre-tooth 

 had no love for an open chase at any time; 

 it was too tiring, and involved too much risk 

 of stone bruises on his feet, or what was 

 worse, getting thorns stuck between his toes. 

 No, there was not much use watching the' 

 camels. They seldom came down to water, 

 and when they did they generally selected 

 one of those muddy, open, shallow pools with 

 little or no cover near it. A really high class 

 animal couldn't or wouldn't drink such 

 water, muddy, foul, and always more or less 

 alkaline — but these camels ! Himself, when 

 he drank, it was from a brook in the moun- 

 tain forests where he slept at night. 



He turned his gaze upon the low bottom 

 flats in the valley before him where the grass 

 grew rank and lush in places and small groups 

 of bison and other smaller animals were feed- 

 ing. The bison, big and black and shaggy- 

 maned, with gleaming sharp horns and fierce 

 little eyes peeping out from their woolly 

 heads, their slim legs and lithe hind quarters 

 in odd contrast to the bulky head and barrel, 

 were no contemptible antagonists. They 

 were, so his family traditions ran, compara- 

 tive newcomers in this country, immigrants 

 from some distant region who had crossed 

 the mountain passes to the north, and were 

 becoming more and more numerous in the 

 valley, ousting many of its former inhabi- 

 tants. They had brought with them some 

 curious ideas about fighting, bunching to- 

 gether when attacked, in a ring with the 

 young and females in the center, instead of 



469 



