XX 



RECkEATIOM. 



HUNTING CHAMOIS IN THE ALPS. 



FETALUMA. 



Some years ago my friend L. and I 

 were strolling through the streets of 

 Munich. As we were both officers of the 

 German Forest Guard, our talk was natur- 

 ally of the game at our respective stations. 

 Suddenly a passing carriage pulled up, a 

 young man jumped out and hailed us. 



"Hello ! you green boys !" he cried, al- 

 luding to the color of our uniforms, 

 "why have you never come to hunt with 

 me as you promised? I return home to- 

 morrow and you must come with me. 

 Your wives can visit my wife and doubt- 

 less they will all be glad to get rid of us 

 woodcocks a while. There is plenty of 

 room at the castle and we shall have a 

 merry time." 



It was von M,., a former classmate. He 

 would take no refusal, and the following 

 day we accompanied him to his home. 

 There we met Count P., who was in the 

 woods to try conclusions with a certain old 

 bull elk known as the devil. This ani- 

 mal had been on the open list 5 years, and 

 many famous hunters had wasted time 

 pursuing him. 



Soon after the second day 3 couples, 

 Count P. and an old forester, von M. 

 and L., and a young ranger and I, left the 

 castle, intending to hunt in different direc- 

 tions. We agreed to meet at nightfall on 

 the following day at a log cabin 4 miles 

 distant. My guide and I reached our camp 

 at sundown. After we had supped we 

 turned in, that we might be in shape to 

 reach the chamois grounds before sunrise. 



It was still pitch dark when we got away 

 and we traveled an hour before we heard 

 a sound. Then from far away came the 

 the mooning call of an old bull elk. "That 

 is the 'Devil,' " my guide exclaimed.. Im- 

 mediately the call was re-echoed in many 

 directions from younger throats, and from 

 the hill above us came a call almost as loud 

 as the first ; but our business that day 

 was not with elk, and we hastened on. 



At last we reached a point which the 

 guide said commanded 3 trails, and there 

 we lighted our pipes and waited for day- 

 break and chamois. The first soon came ; 

 the other, not at all. It was perhaps 9 

 o'clock when my guide suggested that I 

 climb a ridge he pointed out, and wait 

 there while he cast about for game. When 

 I reached the designated spot he was out 

 of sight and I soon forgot why I was there. 

 On one side lav the peaceful lowland, 

 thousands of feet beneath me ; on the other, 

 towered countless mountain peaks. To the 

 Northeast I could make out a peak in the 

 forest of which I had charge. To the 

 North I could barely distinguish the towers 

 of Munich. 



Presently the falling of a stone attracted 

 my attention, and I saw a bunch of chamois 

 on a ridge just within rifle range. At fir c t 



I thought them all does until one came in 

 sight whose short neck and general ap- 

 pearance proclaimed it a buck. I could not 

 make out his horns, but as the bunch be- 

 gan moving, I fired. The animal rolled 

 down hill, while its companions disap- 

 peared over the top. An hour later, when 

 my guide returned, we found I had killed 

 an old dry doe. However, it is lawful to 

 kill such animals in the Alps. The guide 

 put her in the back-sack that a German 

 hunter always carries and we started for 

 camp. 



On our way was a little shack where we 

 ate lunch and rested. While there my 

 guide asked for my glass and presently 

 pointed out some black spots, which he 

 said were old bucks. It was then 3 o'clock 

 and to sneak around behind them would 

 have taken until dark. Our only chance 

 was to cross an open flat in front of the 

 game. On hands and knees we made the 

 attempt. Reaching the first boulder we 

 listened for a warning signal from the 

 chamois. I told the guide to stay where he 

 was, and I crept forward. 



After half an hour of stalking I reached 

 a point which I thought was within fair 

 range of the bucks. Rising to my knees 

 I saw 3 of them feeding tranquilly, but 

 far beyond the reach of my double barreled 

 38-42. There was no chance to get closer 

 without making a wide detour, and the 

 light was rapidly failing. I was on the 

 point of giving up when I saw a bunch of 

 chamois coming down a nearer ridge. I 

 risked a shot at a 3 year old, raising the 

 sight to 350 yards. I saw the bullet fall 

 short and knew I had made the common 

 mistake of underestimating distance when 

 shooting across a canyon. 



At the report of my rifle the bunch went 

 flying up the ridge, and at the same instant 

 a big old buck came around a boulder not 

 40 yards from me. Up went the gun again, 

 but as I aimed I saw I had forgotten to 

 lower the sight. By the time I remedied 

 the mistake the old fellow had taken the 

 alarm and was running his best, 100 yards 

 away. As I fired he rolled over and over, 

 and being at the edge of a sheer fall, went 

 down and out of sight. Finding it impos- 

 sible to climb down after him I returned 

 to the guide and, to my surprise, found he 

 had the buck. He had kept track of my 

 movements and, seeing the animal fall over 

 the ledge, had known just where to find it. 



An hour later we were at the log cabin, 

 where we found our friends and all of 

 von M.'s forest employees,. L. had shot a 

 buck and, having plenty of time, had picked 

 a lot of chamois cress for our supper. 

 Count P. had stalked and shot an elk that 

 he supposed was the "Devil," only to find 

 his kill an ordinary 12-pointer. Chamois 

 liver, chamois cress, Munich beer and good 

 company rounded off a glorious day with 

 a jolly evening. 



