202 Deer of the Pacific Coast 



despairing tenor to the last yelp of the bruised 

 and breathless pack. 



From 1875 to 1885 I lived where deer were so 

 plentiful that going out to find fresh tracks was 

 like going to the corner grocery. In the greater 

 part of the section there were no hunters but my- 

 self, and deer so abundant that I made my own 

 game laws, with no one to protest. Compelled to 

 spend most of my time in the hills to regain lost 

 health, I had little to do but study nature ; and 

 many a deer have I tracked up without a gun, 

 and many a one have I let go unshot at simply 

 because I did not want it, enjoying the hunt just 

 about the same. In this way I knew many a deer 

 nearly as well as if he were hanging under the 

 tree at the house, for I rarely troubled those near 

 by, but kept them for emergencies, short hunts, 

 and hunts without a gun. Educated on the wary 

 Virginia deer, I at first felt nothing but contempt 

 for a deer that one can get a shot at with boots 

 on and stiff overalls scratching the dry brush. 

 But time soon gave me a high respect for the 

 mule-deer; and it has been constantly growing 

 as the animal keeps pace with modem guns and 

 ammunition. 



Every one who has hunted deer much some- 

 times wonders if the animal has not a sixth sense. 

 So often when you have the wind just right, are 

 certain you are making no noise, while still more 



