THE BIG-HORx\ SHEEP 1 59 



freak, however, is generally shown onl)- in very wild localities or among 

 young animals. Where hunters are scarce or almost unknown, all wild 

 animals are very bold. I have seen deer in remote forests, and even in 

 little-hunted localities near my ranch, so tame that they would stand look- 

 ing at the hunter within fifty yards for several minutes before taking 

 flight. Mountain sheep under similar circumstances show a lordly dis- 

 regard for the human intruder, leaving his presence at a leisurely gait, in 

 strong contrast to the mad gallop of their more sophisticated brethren 

 when alarmed. 



In fact, much of the wariness among beasts of chase, as well as much 

 of the courage shown by the more ferocious, depends upon the degree in 

 which they have been harried by hunters, although much also depends 

 upon the character of the species. European game is thus generally 

 wilder than American ; but no animal could be more difficult to approach 

 than a Maine moose. The deer of the Adirondacks and Alleghanies are 

 almost as wary, and in those parts of the Rockies where they have been 

 much molested, big-horn are as shy as the chamois of the Alps, or the ibex 

 of the Pyrenees. So the sloth bear and leopard of India are now much 

 more vicious and dangerous to man than are the black bear and cougar of 

 the United States, simply because of the different race of human beings 

 by whom they are surrounded. 



No animal seems to have been more changed by domestication than 

 the sheep. The timid, helpless, fleecy idiot of the folds, the most foolish 

 of all tame animals, has hardly a trait in common with his self-reliant wild 

 relative who combines the horns of a sheep with the hide of a deer, whose 

 home is in the rocks and the mountains, and who is so abundantly able to 

 take care of himself Wild sheep are as good mountaineers as wild goats, 

 or as mountain antelopes, and are to the full as wary and intelligent. 



A very short experience with the rifle-bearing portion of mankind 

 changes the big-horn into a quarry whose successful chase taxes to the 

 utmost the skill alike of still-hunter and of mountaineer. A solitary old 

 ram seems to be ever on the watch. His favorite resting-place is a shelf 

 or terrace-end high up on some cliff, from whence he can see far and wide 

 over the country round about. The least sound — the rattle of a loose 

 stone, a cough, even a heavy footfall on hard earth — attracts his atten- 

 tion, making him at once clamber up on some peak to try for a glimpse 

 of the danger. His eyes catch the slightest movement. His nose is as 

 keen as an elk's, and gives him surer warning than any other sense ; the 

 slightest taint in the air produces immediate flight in the direction away 

 from the danger. But there is one compensation, from the hunter's stand- 



