YAKS, AND YAK HUNTING 
and graceful animal capable of fighting off the packs of wolves 
that in winter haunt its trail by means of its spreading, smooth, 
and sharp horns. It has a massive form with short 
legs and goatlike feet. The shoulders are some- 
what humped, and the head is carried low. On both body 
and head the hair is short, but from the chin, throat, and lower 
parts of the sides, it grows very long, forming a shining fringe 
or valance, which serves as a mat under the animal when it 
lies down upon the snow or icy rocks, and a warm blanket be- 
neath which to curl its legs —a striking adaptation to the cli- 
mate in which it lives. The color in summer is dark brown, 
growing grizzled with age, and lighter in winter. The tail is 
sometimes six feet long, thick and silky; and these tails are in 
demand as ornaments and for the fly whisks so necessary in 
the East, often fancifully mounted on antelope-horn handles. 
Wild yaks range throughout the loftier regions of central 
Asia, keeping near the snow line in the mountains, and pastur- 
ing on the tough wiry grass which grows luxuriantly in the ele- 
vated valleys. Vast numbers still inhabit the Tibetan solitudes, 
sometimes gathered into herds of thousands. Pere Huc, who 
was the first to describe the wild yak, says the name is Tibetan 
and imitative of the animal’s cry — “very much like the grunt 
of a pig, but louder and more prolonged.” Few are the men 
who have added the head of this noble ox to their hunting 
trophies, for it is on the almost unreachable flanks and plateaus 
of the Pamir that yak hunting must be followed. 
ak. 
Tame. yaks have long been used throughout central Asia, and many 
breeds of various sizes and colors are known. Strong and surefooted, it 
is a beast of burden where none other can exist, and invaluable for mountain 
traveling, but trying for Europeans, since its pace rocks its rider to and 
fro as if on ship in a cross sea. ‘‘The going was awful,” writes one mis- 
erable traveler, ‘“‘stony and very steep; but the yak never made a mistake, 
though it puffed and blew and grunted a great deal. Its gait is very slow, 
nor can it be urged faster, nor kept from stopping as often as it pleases to 
eat snow, of which it consumes surprising quantities.” Wilson’s ‘Abode 
247 
