244 Deer- Hunting on the An Sable. 



during the earlier part of the winter, the bucks discard their gentle- 

 ness in a great measure and fight in the fiercest way. It is doubtful 

 if they ever kill or seriously injure each other, formidable as their 

 antlers are when they have sharpened and polished them by persist- 

 ent rubbing against the bark of young trees. They charge at each 

 other, head down, and meet with a crash, and then stand or walk 

 round and round in a circle, with interlocked antlers, swaying to and 

 fro, and moodily watching each other's every movement. They con- 

 tinue at this sort of thing for hours, and superior prowess is more 

 a matter of endurance and pertinacity than anything else. It would 

 seem that the buck that holds out the longer completely wears out 

 and exhausts his antagonist, who then withdraws and leaves him 

 victor, — whereby the stronger and more favored males carry off the 

 females and beget offspring possessed, by heredity and otherwise, 

 of the same characteristics. The argument finds a strong illustra- 

 tion in the case of the deer, and backwoodsmen say that the younger 

 and weaker males go unmated and are constantly being pursued and 

 driven about by the stronger and older bucks. Some of these com- 

 bats between the bucks result in mutual disaster when the antlers 

 interlock and they are unable to withdraw from each other. They 

 probably could if they made the effort at once, but they butt and 

 push at each other, and each so studiously avoids giving the other 

 an opening, that both are too exhausted to make the effort at separa- 

 tion, and there they remain until the wolves arrive on the scene 

 and close the drama. Our backwoodsman had recently found two 

 bleached skulls with antlers fast in each other's embrace, mutely tell- 

 ing a dark tale of love, jealousy, and a wedding unavoidably post- 

 poned. The fawns, betraying by their spots a former characteristic 

 of their species, are timid, pretty little things. They do not seem to 

 have the instinct which leads the adult animal to the water when 

 pursued, and consequently when a dog gets on the scent of a fawn, 

 he will hunt it bootlessly for hours, to the great annoyance of his 

 master. A young fawn, just born, knows no fear of man. If picked 

 up, fondled a few minutes, and carried a little distance, it will, when 

 put down, follow a man just as it would its mother. 



A tremendous uproar awoke me at the moment when for the 

 hundredth time my rifle had exasperated me. It was Mr. B., shout- 

 ing, " Breakfast! breakfast ! Turn out for breakfast ! The captain's 



