A CONVERTED GAME BUTCHER. 



ED. ROBINSON. 



I am a sheep herder, away out in the 

 Badlands, and I hardly ever see anybody 

 to talk to. I came in to my camp a few 

 days ago, hungry and tired, and found 

 my copy of Recreation. I began to read 

 it and forgot to get supper, something a 

 sheep herder seldom does forget. 



I have been among the big game about 

 10 years and have been a genuine game 

 hog, too. I was out hunting last fall and 

 saw a sight that has taken all the bristles 

 off me. I never expect to murder "another 

 of these noble animals. I was camped on 

 the river close to some small tributaries 

 that came down from the mountains. As 

 I was out for bear more than anything 

 else I decided to go to the head of one 

 of the tributaries, lie out all night and try to 

 get a shot at a bear the next morning. I 

 left camp about 10 o'clock a. m., and got 

 to the head of the canyon just before sun- 

 down. The elk had begun to come -ut in 

 little parks to feed. I saw a good many 

 cows and calves, but did not molest them. 

 Then I went down into a thick patch of 

 timber, built a fire, and lay down for the 

 night. About an hour after sunset the elk 

 began to tune their mouth organs. I 

 was sitting by the fire about half asleep, 

 when suddenly a sound like a steamboat 

 whistle came roaring down the moun- 

 tains. 



It would have frightened a man almost to 

 death if he had never heard the sound 

 before. It was answered by another from 

 the opposite side of the canyon, and in a 

 few minutes the whole canyon was in a 

 roar almost deafening. I began to wonder 

 what such beasts were ever created for. 

 The bugling increased until I longed for 

 daybreak so I could see what was going 

 on. At dawn I arose, ate my breakfast, 

 and as soon as it was light enough to trav- 

 el I went up toward where the sound of 

 the elk came from. I had not gone more 

 than 75 yards when I began to see elk in 

 every direction, but the timber was thick 

 and I could not get a full view of the 

 surroundings. I concluded to go back, 

 up a little gulch, and get on top of a big 

 rim rock. After about 20 minutes' hard 

 climbing I came out on the rim rock, and 

 such a sight I never saw before ! The 

 whole country below me was alive with 

 elk! A little park, just below me, of about 

 5 acres, seemed to be their playground. I 

 got down close to the edge of the cliff, 

 where I could have thrown a stone among 

 them. 



By that time the sun had begun to 

 shine on the snowy peaks around, which 



added to the beauty of the scene, but the 

 living creatures below were the center 

 of attraction to me. Mountain scenery 

 I have viewed in all its grandeur, but 

 without those creatures it is dead. Then 

 I began to realize what they were created 

 for. Why should we slay those beautiful 

 animals ? There I sat, their arch enemy, 

 and they were wholly unaware of it. I 

 could study them in their home, which 

 nature has made for them. One of the 

 males 'had 8 points on his horns and he 

 was a monster. He seemed to be the boss. 

 He tried to run every other bull out of 

 the park as fast as they came in. He ran 

 until his tongue hung out of his mouth. 

 Then he went over to the West side of the 

 park, where there was a large mud hole 

 and wallowed in it until he was cooled off. 

 Then he began his chase again. Soon an- 

 other elk came out of the timber, as large 

 as" he was and equally as lordly. They in- 

 vestigated each other and then came to- 

 gether with a crash that sounded like a 

 dead tree falling. I never saw 2 animals 

 fight so wickedly. It lasted 10 minutes. 

 Then the first old boss gave way and turned 

 to run. The other caught him in the ribs, 

 knocked him down and gored him fear- 

 fully. At last he got on his feet, started 

 down hill, never stopped to look back, and 

 disappeared in the timber. How gladly 

 I would have traded my rifle for a camera ! 

 Since then I have bought a camera and 

 have learned to make good pictures. I 

 shall always take my camera on hunting 

 trips hereafter, instead of a gun. 



I watched the antics of that band of elk 

 in joy and amazement. Why should any 

 man ever kill one of these beautiful crea- 

 tures? I know that in my excitement I 

 would without stopping to think ; but that 

 time I had to think. If all sportsmen, 

 when they raise their deadly weapons to 

 blow out the life of one of the few remain- 

 ing wild animals will stop to consider that 

 these creatures give life to the desolate 

 wilderness and glory to the earth, they 

 will trade their firearms for cameras, take 

 pictures instead of heads, and let the ani- 

 mals remain alive. I beg my brother 

 game hogs to use a camera instead of a 

 gun and they will be 10 times happier after 

 a day's hunt. 



To-day I was standing by 3 buffalo 

 heads. The hide was on the skulls yet, and 

 I wondered how long the animals had been 

 dead. How grand it would be to see one 

 of these noble animals alive now! How 

 glad I should be to get one picture of one 

 of them alive! If our fathers had used 



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