The Whiteiail Deer 93 



carefully scan a likely country to see if I could not 

 detect something moving. On one occasion I ob- 

 tained an old whitetail buck by the simple exercise 

 of patience. I had twice found him in a broad 

 basin, composed of several coulies, all running 

 down to form the head of a big creek, and all of 

 them well timbered. He dodged me on both 

 occasions, and I made up my mind that I would 

 spend a whole day in watching for him from a 

 little natural ambush of sage brush and cedar on 

 a high point which overlooked the entire basin. 

 I crept up to my ambush with the utmost caution 

 early in the morning, and there I spent the entire 

 day, with my lunch and a water-bottle, continually 

 scanning the whole region most carefully with 

 the glasses. The day passed less monotonously 

 than it sounds, for every now and then I would 

 catch a glimpse of wild life ; once a fox, once a 

 coyote, and once a badger; while the little chip- 

 munks had a fine time playing all around me. At 

 last, about mid-afternoon, I suddenly saw the buck 

 come quietly out of the dense thicket in which he 

 had made his midday bed, and deliberately walk 

 up a hillside and lie down in a thin clump of ash 

 where the sun could get at him — for it was in 

 September, just before the rut began. There was 

 no chance of stalking him in the place he had 

 chosen, and all I could do was to wait. It was 

 nearly sunset before he moved again, except that 



