276 Hunting the Mule -Deer in Colorado. 



Morning and evening are best to hunt in. In the bright of the 

 moon, deer feed at night, resting while the sun is high. If not much 

 hunted, they lie in the shade, not far from water; if often alarmed, 

 they "roost high" and keep a good lookout, or perhaps leave for a 

 quieter range. Fires and smoke they detest, and they soon learn to 

 associate the report of fire-arms with the presence and scent of 

 human beings. Still, by judicious method, they may be " herded," 

 till you have all the meat you can take care of. 



If a mountain man tells you that he don't know where the game 

 is, believe him. It has become so unsettled by constant and careless 

 hunting (which does not deserve the name — "driving" would better 

 express it) that one must be in constant experience to know its 

 present accessible haunt. It may be plentiful here to-day and gone 

 to-morrow. The incursions of coyotes and foxes among the fawns, 

 and the approach of a mountain lion, or of a man that shoots inces- 

 santly, are marching orders to them. Also, to repeat, fire and smoke 

 they particularly abhor. At almost any season, a conflagration may 

 occur, originating in the criminal carelessness or ignorance of some 

 one who has failed to put out his camp-fire, or in the detestable policy 

 of the Indians, or some malcontents among them, at least, who set these 

 fires to destroy the timber that might be of use to the whites and to 

 drive away the game into their own country, it being their policy to 

 disturb their own "cattle," as they term them, as little as possible. 



Remember that to see your game before it sees or smells you is 

 the greatest advantage. It sometimes happens that when already in 

 motion, not thoroughly startled, but suspicious, it may be induced to 

 stop and turn by a shrill whistle or a stone thrown in advance. If 

 approaching you and unaware of you, the first will nearly always 

 prove the best thing to do. In the instance illustrated in the picture 

 entitled "The Fall of the Leader," a small band of males is in full 

 flight from the course of a sudden storm. The leader, some yards in 

 advance, stops suddenly, with ears and eyes alert to find the source 

 and cause of an unfamiliar sound more startling than the roar of the 

 winds behind, and, smitten in the same instant, clears at one leap 

 the last intervening logs and yields his life in the dry path of the 

 coming flood. 



Always picket or hobble your animals at night, or at least picket 

 one of them — the leader, if they acknowledge one. Neglect of this 

 will cost time and money and vexation. 



