86 The Wilderness Hunter 



stronger sounds of the wilderness; the guttural 

 booming and clucking of the prairie fowl and the 

 great sage fowl in spring; the honking of gangs of 

 wild geese, as they fly in rapid wedges ; the bark of 

 an eagle, wheeling in the shadow of storm-scarred 

 cliffs; or the far-off clanging of many sand-hill 

 cranes, soaring high overhead in circles which cross 

 and recross at an incredible altitude. Wilder yet, 

 and stranger, are the cries of the great four-footed 

 beasts; the rhythmic pealing of a bull-elk s chal 

 lenge; and that most sinister and mournful sound, 

 ever fraught with foreboding of murder and rapine, 

 the long-drawn baying of the gray wolf. 



Indeed, save to the trained ear, most mere bird 

 songs are not very noticeable. The ordinary wil 

 derness dweller, whether hunter or cowboy, scarcely 

 heeds them; and in fact knows but little of the 

 smaller birds. If a bird has some conspicuous pe 

 culiarity of look or habit he will notice its existence ; 

 but not otherwise. He knows a good deal about mag 

 pies, whiskey jacks, or water ousels ; but nothingwhat- 

 ever concerning the thrushes, finches, and warblers. 



It is the same with mammals. The prairie-dogs 

 he can not help noticing. With the big pack-rats 

 also he is well acquainted; for they are handsome, 

 with soft gray fur, large eyes, and bushy tails; 

 and, moreover, no one can avoid remarking their 

 extraordinary habit of carrying to their burrows 

 everything bright, useless, and portable, from an 



