FOREST AND STREAM 
711 
A TRIP TO NORTH PARK, 
(SIXTH PAPER.) 
[PROM OUR STAFF CORRESPONDENT.] 
ERY regretfully we turned our backs upon the 
Snowy Range and inarched southeasterly toward 
the Platte River. The long stretch of rolling sage plain 
looked gray and gloomy under the heavy fog which hung 
low over the land, and which sometimes changed for a 
little while into a pouring rain, or again lighted up as 
though the sun were really trying his best to make things 
cheerful.- 
To the old campaigner it makes hut little difference 
whether the march is through rain or sunshine. If it 
rains he protects him self as well as possible, and goes on 
his way as cheerfully as he can, consoled for his tempo¬ 
rary discomfort by a certain philosophy which comes to 
all who are accustomed to life in the open air. If the sun 
is clear and bright, on the other hand, he is correspond¬ 
ingly happy. Men who have not had experience in life 
on the mountains are apt to be depressed by a march 
through the rain. One becomes more or less wet, of 
course, and it really seems very hard not to have a house 
to go into to dry oneself. The tents, if such conveniences 
are at hand, have to he pitched on the wet ground, the 
blankets are damp, the evening meal is cold and wet, and 
in all probability there is but little of it; so that upon the 
whole, for a man who is not used to camp life a rainy day 
is a veritable misfortune. A low-lying mist produces a 
curious effect upon objects at a little distance. Antelope 
seen through the fog look as large as horses, and coyotes 
might easily he taken for gray wolves. The large size 
and hence apparent proximity of such living objects 
proved too great a temptation for our young men to with¬ 
stand, and they indulged in a brisk fusilade at numerous 
antelope, none of which seemed any the worse for the 
firing. The fog seems somewhat to confuse game, at 
times. I had ridden ahead alone to pick out a road for 
the wagon, and was loping up to the top of a low hill, 
when there appeared just over the ridge two antelopes 
cantering briskly toward me. They did not seem to no¬ 
tice me until I was within a hundred yards of them, and 
then, instead of turning and running off, they put on a 
burst of speed and started to run directly by me, passing 
about thirty yards to my right. Just before they passed 
me I shouted at them, and one of the two turned and 
ran directly across my path so close to my horse that I 
thought I should run over him. I shouted at him again, 
just as he was in front of me, and he turned sharp to 
the left and darted by me, going like the wind. I could 
have struck him with a whip if I had had one, and had 
my rope been free would have thrown it over his head. 
Before noon the willowy bottom of the Platte was in 
sight, and an hour’s ride brought me to it, the wagon 
being far behind. The valley was plentifully dotted 
with feeding antelope, and I determined to try to kill 
one. The herd, which I attempted to approach, was a 
large one and much scattered, so that I was somewhat 
doubtful of my ability to get within range ; but after a 
little careful manoeuvering I found myself on the creek 
bottom with about fifty yards of level grass land to cross 
before I could reach the willows, under cover of which 
I could approach the herd. A single old doe was in 
sight and was staring at me very intently, but as the 
animals were already beginning to feed toward the bluffs 
I could not wait for her to move out of sight; and so 
dropping on my hands and knees I crept toward the wil¬ 
lows. For the whole distance I was in plain sight of the 
doe, and my only hope was that she might take me for 
some animal feeding in the bottom. There were num¬ 
bers of cattle along the creek, and as I have elsewhere 
remarked, antelope in a range where there are cattle 
or buffalo are much less easily startled by the sight of 
a moving object than where such large animals are un¬ 
known. My expectation, in this case was justified by the 
event, and when I reached the willows I saw that the 
doe had recommenced feeding, How it happened I do 
not know, but after creeping to within easy range of a 
big buck I fired, and shot about four inches too high, 
thus failing to get him. I was much chagrined, for al¬ 
though we did not need the meat, having killed some 
antelope since leaving Independence Mountain, it was 
humiliating to miss such a shot. 
We camped at this point, and occupied the afternoon 
in collecting some natural history specimens. In com¬ 
pany with W., I started out, equipped with insect net and 
poison bottles, to collect some flies, while my companion, 
who was armed with a shot gun, was looking for ornitho¬ 
logical specimens. A bed of gorgeous, sweet-smelling 
flowers gave me occupation for some time, which W. 
utilized in the pursuit, unsuccessful, I regret to say, of 
some avocets, While sauntering along the bluffs over¬ 
looking the river bottom, we came upon a little slough, 
in and about which were several species of water birds, 
and among others a female greenwing teal and eight tiny 
young. As soon as the old mother saw us she started out 
of the pool and ran off into the grass, with the eight 
little ones strung out in a line behind her. The scene 
was a touching one, and we refrained from disturbing the 
little group. At this camp we were troubled by a phan¬ 
tom duck, which would appear on the river about a hun¬ 
dred yards below camp, swimming about in plain sight, 
but disappearing in some mysterious fashion whenever 
anyone went after it. Several members of the party 
watched for it, and tried in various ways to approach it, 
but no one succeeded in getting near enough to shoot at 
it. 
The next morning wa crossed the Platte, and taking an 
easterly course, reached the crossing of the Michigan 
about two o’clock. The day was a memorable one to W., 
for during the morning he killed his first antelope. He 
and 1 were riding together, and on reaching the summit 
of a low ridge came upon a number of antelope, which 
were feeding within rifle range. W. dismounted, and 
when lie fired I saw the last of the band, a fine buck, 
give way behind and then very slowly hobble off. W., 
who was naturally in a high state of excitement, followed 
on foot, shooting at the buck about as often as he could 
load and fire, and after four or five shots killed it. During 
the chase he kept his eyes so closely fixed on his game 
that he tripped over a spreading sage and fell down, 
losing both hat and gun. The antelope brought to bag, 
it took but a few minutes to transfer his dainty head to 
my companion’s saddle, and we moved on, leaving the 
meat, which was too badly shot to carry along. 
From the crossing of the Michigan we took a hunter’s 
road into the mountains, which led us through dense pine 
forests alternating with pretty park-like openings, about 
fifteen miles nearer to the main range, where we camped 
on some little springs which flowed into the Canadian. 
Antelope were extraordinarily abundant here and quite 
tame, so that had we been disposed to indulge in reckless 
killing, we might have done so. Of other game we saw 
hut little ; although a few deer were found in the timber. 
Dusky grouse and the pine, or “snow-shoe” rabbit (Lepus 
campestris—vax. bairdi —Hayden), were also very plenty in 
the timhef)'* The day after our arrival at this camp, three 
of us rode over to the Michigan to see a trapper who was 
camped on that stream in order to make inquiries as to 
the best trail to be followed in going up to the top of the 
range. On the way we killed a couple of antelope, one 
of which had two extra horns, These had no bony core, 
and were not attached to the skull, being thus merely 
dermal outgrowths. They were about three inches long, 
and as thick as a man’s thumb. 
The timber on the Michigan was burning in several 
places, hut the fires had been partially extinguished by the 
rains of the last few days, so that at present only a few 
smouldering logs sent up their pillars of smoke. After a 
short period of dry weather, however, the fires will spring 
up again, and then thousands of acres of splendid timber 
must go. In some places the fire had run down the 
mountains out on to the plain, and even across the creek 
bottom, killing the willows by which it is everywhere cov¬ 
ered. Just before riding down the bluffs into the brush 
we saw a large wild-cat, or bay lynx, run out from the 
bushes and eye us with looks of suspicion; hut before 
any of us had time to catch sight on the creature it 
bounded hack into the willows and was not seen again. 
The bottom of the Michigan, where it debouches from 
the mountain, is wide and level, and is full of old beaver 
ponds and ditches. It is therefore extremely, difficult to 
cross, and we spent two hours and a half in trying to 
reach the opposite bank, distant about half a mile. The 
willows grow everywhere so thickly that it is with the 
greatest difficulty that a horse cau be forced through 
them; and every few steps one meets with mud holes, the 
remains of old beaver ponds, which it is necessary to 
head. These beaver meadows are the worst places in the 
world to have to ride through ; and if one’s horse gets 
mired in a beaver slough, the chances that you can ever 
get him out again are extremely small, Having safely 
crossed the meadow, we rode briskly along toward the 
mountains and about noon reached a little grove of pines 
in which we found the trapper’s camp, This was rather 
picturesque in its appointments and surroundings, and 
extremely dirty. A light spring wagon contai nin g most 
of the owner’s baggage stood between two trees, and over 
the wheels hung saddles, bridles, ropes, and saddle blank¬ 
ets ; near by was a smoking heap of ashes surmounted by 
a black and greasy pot; and not far from the fire sat 
Hosier, skinning a beaver, while his partner was pegging 
out a fresh antelope hide. The trees about the fire were 
garnished with the circular pelts of the beaver, and 
from two of them depended the black and drying car¬ 
casses of a couple of antelope. We were hospitably 
received, and our inquiries answered very cheerfully, 
and the visit resulted in our engaging Hosier to go 
with us for fifteen days. He informed us that the best 
trail to the top of the Range followed up the Michigan, 
and we decided to bring the wagon across from our camp 
near the Canadian, and leave it at Hosier’s, whence we 
would start with pack anima l s for our c lim b into the hills. 
Following the directions of our new friend, we spent less 
time in the creek bottom that .we had earlier in the day, 
and only stopping to pick up the meat and heads of the 
antelope killed in the morning, we reached camp some 
time before dark. We still had time to prepare our an¬ 
telope heads, skin some birds, and collect a few insects. 
The next morning we were off in good time, and al¬ 
though we had some trouble in getting the wagon across 
the Michigan, we reached Hosier’s shortly after noon. 
As we had but two pack animals,every luxury was left in 
camp, and nothing but the necessary provisions and bed¬ 
ding were to be taken. My short double-barrel I wrapped 
in my blankets, with a few cartridges, as there seemed to 
be a likelihood that we would see, on the summit, some 
white-tailed ptarmigan. Rifle ammunition, toilet con¬ 
veniences, and so on, were wrapped in blankets or stowed 
away in saddle-bags or pockets. 
The trail, which in many places was so faintly marked 
as to he easily lost, leads the rider alongthe north¬ 
ern bank of the Michigan, and for almost the entire 
distance from the plain to timber line winds through 
the heavy pine forests. The air is redolent with the 
terebinthine odors of spruce, pine and balsam fir, min¬ 
gled with the richer and more varied perfume of the 
many wild flowers that brighten with red, blue and 
yellow the shadowy gloom of the dense woods. The pine 
rabbit, startled at our approach, hops far enough from 
the track to avoid the horses’ feet, and sitting on his 
haunches, with his monstrous ears erect, contemplates 
the procession that passes before him with a curiously 
meditative air. The gray jays {Perisoreus canadensis 
var. capitalis) are out in force, and flit along among the 
branches above our heads, descending, half a dozen at a 
time, to pick up the crumbs which fall at our feet when 
we halt for lunch. Curious birds these certainly are : 
crushingly impudent, and that with a calmness and un¬ 
concern that compels your admiration while it arouses 
your wrath. They are not favorites with the hunter, for 
jn winter they tear his skins, steal his meat and his bait, 
and annoy his sore-backed animals ; but for myself, I 
must confess to a sneaking admiration for this bird. TTig 
“cheek” exceeds that of the proverbial lightning-rod 
man. Though often entirely silent, there are times when 
the grey jay is as noisy as his blue cousin in the East; but 
this is usually when he sees a him ter cautiously stealing 
up to some game which the latter is anxious to secure. 
Then, especially if the hunter is hungry, and out of 
“grub,” does our grey friend make the timber re-echo 
with his doleful notes. It shall not be through any neg¬ 
ligence on his part if the light-heeled deer or watchful 
elk is too nearly approached by his two-legged enemy. 
The eternal—I had almost written infernal—chattering 
of the red or pine squirrel is another sound that salutes 
the ear of him who journeys through the forests of these 
mountains. These animals here feed entirely on the seeds 
of the pine, and one frequently comes on great heaps of 
the green cones, collected at the foot of some tall tree, 
from which every seed has been removed. The resinous 
sap with which the cones are filled collects on the fur of 
the squirrels’ face in considerable masses, and must cause 
them no little inconvenience. Another curious voice of 
the mountains, and one whioh always puzzles those new 
to the country, is the cry of the mountain woodchuck 
(Arctomys flaviventer). This species abounds anywhere 
in the high mountains, and lives in holes or in crannies 
in the rocks. They are fond of selecting high bare points 
of granite, where they sit in the sun, and if they see any¬ 
thing unusual they utter a short, sharp cry, which is not 
exactly a shriek nor a whistle, but a compound of both 
—rather more like what you would expect to hear from 
a very young but extremely vigorous steam engine than 
anything else that I think of at this moment. The owner 
of the voice bears a general resemblance to the Eastern 
woodchuck, but is slightly larger, and its pelage is yel¬ 
lowish in color. Dusky grouse are quite abundant in 
the timber bordering the valley of the stream which we 
are following, and several broods were started from the 
ground, all of which flew at once into the trees, the old 
hens clucking loudly, like a startled domestic fowl. 
"We camped the first night in a beautiful opening, sur¬ 
rounded by giant spruces and firs, where the rich grass 
stood waist high, and the steep sides of the mountains 
rose almost vertically from the narrow valley. I took a 
jaunt up the hillside in search of game, but found none, 
although I came very near seeing a bear. I ran upon his 
bed and heard him spring into some thick evergreen 
bush, I could not, however, find him again. On the way 
back to camp I saw in the stream bed one of those curi¬ 
ous little birds known as dippers (Cinclus me.vicanus\ 
They are odd little slate-colored birds, somewhat less in 
size than the robin—to which, by the way, they are al¬ 
lied, and pass their lives on the mountain streams, from 
the bottoms of which they'derive their food. They are 
most active little creatures, continually in motion, and 
when not flying here and there or diving in the water, 
are always either walking briskly about on the rocks or 
else making the peculiar dipping movement, from which 
perhaps their name, dipper, has been given them. This 
movement is not at all like the bow of the sand-piper, nor, 
according to my observation, does it resemble the tail- 
jerking of the wrens, to which it has been compared by 
some writers. It is more like a sudden and very quick 
crouching down, followed by an equally rapid recovery. 
The legs are bent both at the knee and the tibio-tarsal 
joint. The dippers are tame, confiding little birds, and 
one may approach them quite closely without alarming 
them. It is very ourious to see them walk deliberately 
down a sloping stone into the water, until they disap¬ 
pear beneath its surface, and then to see them emerge 
