174 The Elk of the Pacific Coast 



the biggest bull, most of them being so clumsy 

 that any fool that could coil a noose could lasso 

 one. For a time this murder was the only hunt- 

 ing done for elk. But as they began to retreat 

 to the cover of the tules, and the price of meat 

 rose with the demand from the mines, the natives 

 began to watch for elk outside the tules at day- 

 light, while hunters by the score with rifles fol- 

 lowed them in all directions. In the northern 

 part of the state the elk left the valleys as early 

 as 1855, to retire to the majestic silence of the 

 great redwoods of the Coast Range, where he 

 could be found only by true still-hunting. And 

 even there the great bands were no longer seen, 

 but only scattered bunches of a dozen or so, with 

 plenty of single ones. The day passed very 

 quickly when one could go wait beside some 

 grassy glade to see a score come in from the 

 woods to feed, and stand so confused when the 

 leader fell that the butcher might pile the rest 

 almost one upon another. This day is about 

 gone even in the farther north, where few hunt- 

 ers have ever penetrated, for, like the deer, the 

 elk has learned from civilization. 



In judgment of a certain kind the elk is far 

 superior to the deer. The deer merely laughs 

 at civilization so long as it gives him, leaves 

 him, a certain amount of cover with half a 

 chance to feed and rest. He cares nothing for 



