HUNTING BIG GAME IN 
WYOMING 
BY -A... W.: BETIS 
OR a long time I had 
been anxious to add an 
elk head to my collec- 
tion, so when in 
October, 1903, a busi- 
ness trip to Wyoming 
.| came my way, I con- 
cluded it would be my 
opportunity to secure 
thelong-desired trophy, 
¢k{ and accordingly made 
| the necessary prepara- 
tions. 

At the railway towns 
A Wyoming I saw 
en route 
numerous finely mounted heads of the 
‘“Monarch of the Glen’”—which made 
me the more anxious to secure one by 
my own skill with the rifle. At Opal 
I procured my license and took my seat by 
the side of the stage driver for the upper 
Green River country. The distance of 120 
miles to Burns, lasting two days, was most 
interesting, although a greater part of the 
country along the way is a dreary waste of 
grease wood and sage brush—sheep having 
cleaned up the nutritious grasses that once 
covered this country, thus ruining the 
grazing for cattle or large game. The road 
was in good condition and the coach a very 
comfortable Concord. The road would at 
times come to the banks of, and sometimes 
cross, Green River, a beautiful stream of 
clear, cold water. Coyotes and gray wolves 
were seen once in awhile and afforded 
practice with the rifle, but generally were 
too far away for successful scores. Sage 
hens and rabbits were plentiful all along 
the way. 
I stopped over one stage at La Barge 
stage station, and found excellent accom- 
modations. Here I fished the La Barge, a 
swift and ideal trout stream, having its rise 
at the base of snow-capped peaks ten miles 
distant; the banks in places were densely 
lined with willows, but with hip boots most 
of the stream can be fished. On account of 
poor flies, I lost the finest fish, but got 
enough for good sport and the La Barge 
will ever be remembered as one of the finest 
trout streams I ever cast a fly over. While 
fishing along this stream I saw numerous 
mallards and other ducks, and they were so 
tame that they were reluctant to get up 
from the water when disturbed. 
After leaving Willow Creek station, 
antelope were frequently seen. Not having 
met a guide, I did not attempt any shots, 
although I found others not so mindful of 
the law. The laws of Wyoming for the 
protection and perpetuation of game are 
admirable, yet while the Eastern “dude” 
(as all are called who come from the East) 
is “held up” to the fullest extent of the 
law—‘‘and then some,” some of the guides, 
government rangers and ranchers, at the 
time of my visit, paid no attention to the 
laws. A lady on a ranch told me that in 
seven years they had killed but two beeves, 
elk, deer and antelope furnishing the table 
whenever they wished meat—which, of 
course, was all the time. There were cer- 
tainly some men who killed elk for the ~ 
teeth alone, as I found several carcasses 
with only the tusks taken. 
When I reached the Roy Ranch I met 
my guide, Rudolph Rosencrans, an edu- 
cated and intelligent young Swiss, a fine 
shot and expert packer and guide—knowing 
the haunts and habits of wild animals 
perfectly. He had expected me, and, there- 
fore, had the camping outfit, pack and 
saddle horses all ready. So the morning of 
October 8 found us in the saddle and on the 
trail for the Wind River basin and big game 
country. The October weather was de- 
lightfully sharp and bracing, and the health- 
giving odors of the pines, spruce and other 
resinous trees were most agreeable and 
exhilarating. 

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