X 



THE SAGE-COCKCOCK OF THE PLAINS 



MANY years ago I rode out from Fort Bridger 

 with Professor Marsh and his assistants es- 

 corted by a company of troops from the garrison. 

 The expedition was against the dead of long ago, 

 whose fossil remains lay buried in the Terre Mauvais, 

 or Bad Lands of the Green River country, in what 

 is now the States of Utah and Wyoming. I had 

 asked to accompany the expedition and do part of the 

 work, not on account of an interest in paleontological 

 research, but from a desire to visit an unknown land 

 in comfort and safety and to shoot at the living. 



We rode away from the garrison over a vast plain 

 overgrown with the artemesia or wild sage. Far away 

 to the south were the bad lands or buttes, strangely fash- 

 ioned by erosion, and, beyond, the snow-capped peaks 

 of the Uintah Mountains. I carried a double gun 

 across the saddle, and we had not gone far before I 

 dropped behind the others, riding somewhat to the 

 left of their trail, in the hope that I might get a shot 

 at something. Suddenly a large bird, nearly as big as a 

 turkey, arose from my horse's feet, and with a tremen- 

 dous roar of wings flew off across the plain, loudly 

 clucking as he went. Not stopping to consider if my 

 horse would stand the firing I pitched the gun to my 

 shoulder and had the satisfaction of seeing the bird 



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