'-■■'■ 'r.m^---' ■■■■•■ ■■■■'\-r :;■:■■:■■■ ■■■''■■:■'■'■■'' 





FLOATING AS LIGHTLY AS TUFTS OF THISTLEDOWN. 



Late one afternoon, as we were nearing 

 the end of a long drive, an exclamation 

 from my wife caused me to rein up my 

 horses, and turn in my seat. At the side 

 of the road were two camps of family par- 

 ties located in a beautiful green glade, 

 separated from each other only by a deep, 

 narrow gulley. Seated in the bottom of this 

 hollow was the largest, fattest, laziest-look- 

 ing black bear we had seen in the Park. It 

 was within plain view of the road, but con- 

 cealed from the campers. A few feet from 

 its hiding place children were romping 

 and playing, unconscious of its presence, 

 and the big brute paid no attention to the 

 merry shouts and laughter of the little 

 folks, but idly swayed its head from side 

 to side with a comical expression of ennui. 

 The purpose of the bear was evident. It 

 was waiting for the campers to retire, that 

 it might raid their kitchen wagons. We 

 afterward learned that the noise it made in 

 clambering into the wagon aroused the 

 cook, who drove the fat rascal away by 

 pounding its back with a tent pole. 



Yellowstone Park is to the birds and 

 mammals of this country a place of refuge 

 from persecution. It is indeed unique in 

 being the only place where man has al- 

 lowed the preamble of the Immortal Decla- 

 ration to apply to his undeveloped brothers 

 of the wilderness ; and the only zoological 

 collection, with the possible exception of 

 Eden, where animals have been intrusted 

 with self government. 



It is astonishing what a remarkable dif- 

 ference there is in appearance between the 



healthy animals of the Park and the mount- 

 ed museum specimens of the same crea- 

 tures. Indeed, so great is the disparity, 

 that it is by no means easy to identify 

 many of the living birds or mammals from 

 one's previous study of mounted speci- 

 mens. 



The healthy bodies of the citizens of the 

 Wild Animal Republic, unlike many mu- 

 seum specimens, are not stretched out of 

 all semblance to nature. No odor of cam- 

 phor or other drugs emanates from them, 

 and no printed labels give you their names, 

 in a language as dead as the stuffed speci- 

 mens. But with good, red blood coursing 

 through their veins, the agile citizens of 

 the Park are a surprise and a pleasure to 

 lovers of Nature. 



Instances are not wanting in which stage 

 roads and even hotel lobbies have been 

 visited by strange guests ; but, as a rule, the 

 animals must be sought in their native 

 haunts. 



Here the mountain lion (Felis concolor) 

 prowls as he did before Columbus blun- 

 dered on America. The lynx mounts a log, 

 arches his back and gives forth calls that 

 would make a domestic cat die of envy. 

 The wolverine prowls in search of his din- 

 ner, feeling certain that his food conceals 

 no cruel trap. The pine marten and the fish- 

 er no longer dread to crawl under a log for 

 fear of displacing a trigger and being 

 crushed. Bright eyed otters and minks 

 look not for human enemies ; muskrats 

 and beavers build their winter homes un- 

 disturbed by the trapper. Several varie- 



420 



