On the Cattle Ranges. 69 



prairie fowl and the great sage fowl in spring ; the honk- 

 ing 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 rhyth- 

 mic pealing of a bull-elk's challenge ; 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 wilderness dweller, 

 whether hunter or cowboy, scarcely heeds them ; and in 

 fact knows but little of the smaller birds. If a bird has 

 some conspicuous peculiarity of look or habit he will 

 notice its existence ; but not otherwise. He knows a 

 good deal about magpies, whiskey jacks, or water ousels ; 

 but nothing whatever concerning the thrushes, finches, 

 and warblers. 



It is the same with mammals. The prairie-dogs he 

 cannot 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 empty cartridge case to a skinning knife. But he 

 knows nothing of mice, shrews, pocket gophers, or weasels ; 

 and but little even of some larger mammals with very 

 marked characteristics. Thus I have met but one or two 



