4 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 4, 1896. 
than one, served as a salutary reminder to other gentle- 
men with discourteous tendencies to maraud. The con- 
sequence of all this was that a big ranchman spoke of his 
summer range with the same sense of proprietorship and 
security of possession as of his alfalfa field or pits of ensi- 
lage. 
We arrived at my friend's ranch in the evening, and 
the next morning but one were in the saddle and on our 
way— it having been arranged that the younger brother 
of my host was to take his place upon the hunt. As we 
were to arrive at the sheep-herders' camps on the fourth 
day from the ranch, no elaborate preparations were nec- 
essary; we took but a single animal for the pack, besides 
the horses we rode. A Mexican herder, Leonard, was 
the third member of the party — cook, packer, guide, gen- 
eral storehouse of information and jeat. The first night 
we camped in the foot hills, in a grove of big-cone pines, 
curiously enough in the exact place where, a fortnight 
before, my friend Proctor and I had pitched our tent on 
the way from the Yosemite to Fresno, and which we 
had left without the slightest expectation, on the part of 
either, of ever seeing again. 
Little of the journey to the mountains remains in my 
memory. We passed a great timber chute of astonishing 
length— twenty or forty miles, or something of the sort — 
down which timber is floated from the great pine and 
spruce forests to the railroad, with little trouble and at 
slight expense; the water being of commercial value for 
purposes of irrigation during the summer, and bringing 
a good price after it has fulfilled its special function as 
carrier. The drinking water for my friend's ranch was 
taken from this, a supply being drawn in the cool of the 
morning sufficient to last throughout the day, and most 
grateful we found it during suli ry August days in a part 
of the country where ice is not to be procured. 
Each of the four days of our journey we were climbing 
higher among the mountains into a thinner and more in- 
vigorating atmosphere. The days were hot so long as one 
remained exposed to the sun, but the shadows were cool 
and the nights most refreshing. Upon the last morning 
of our journey, crossing a mountain creek, my attention 
was called to a rude bridge, where had occurred a battle 
of the ranchmen upon the occasion of an attempted entry 
by a "tramp" owner with hiB flock into somebody's 
"Bummer range." The intruder was killed, and I believe 
in this, particular instance the possessor of the unwritten 
right of exclusive pasturage upon Government land found 
the laws of California awkward to deal with; not so 
deadly, it may be, as a six-shooter, but expensive and dis- 
couraging to quiet pastoral methods. 
Another point of interest was Rattlesnake Rock, which 
we rounded upon the trail. This was a spot peculiarly 
sheltered and favored by the winds, the warmest corner 
that snakes^^ot of, and here they assemble for their 
winter's sleep. In the mild days of early spring, when 
the.resjt of the, world is Btill frozen and forbidden, this one 
little .nook, catching all the sun, is thawed and genial. 
From, beneath the ledge crawl forth into the warmth 
greatstore of rattlers, big and little. Coming out from the 
Yosemite Valley, I had killed one quite 4ft. in length and 
of exactly the same girth as my wrist, which I was assured 
was not at all an extraordinary size for them "in these 
parts.?' Near this rock, in an unfeeling manner, I shot 
the head off another big one, and he will no longer attend 
the yearly meeting of his kind at Rattlesnake Rock. 
Upon this stage of our journey we met no one, yet the 
noble forest of spruce through which we were traveling 
bore only too plainly the signs of man's presence in the 
past, and of his injurious disregard of the future. Every- 
where were the traces of fire. The trees of the Sierras, at 
the elevation at which we were— an altitude of 8,000 or 
10.000ft.— grow more sparsely than in any forest to which 
we were accustomed in the East. Their dry and unim- 
peded spaces seem like heaven to the hunter familiar only 
with the tangled and perplexing undergrowth of the 
"North Woods," where fhe midday shadow, the thick 
underbrush, the uneven and wet, mossy surface, except 
upon, some remote hardwood ridge, are the unvarying 
characteristics. In the Rocky Mountains, and that part 
of the Sierras with which I am familiar, it is quite differ- 
ent. In California the trees do not crowd and jostle one 
another, but have regard for the sacredness of the person 
so far as the mutual relation of one and all are concerned. 
Broad patches of sunshine beneath the trees encourage 
the growth of rich grasses, none so sweet as those which 
are found at a great altitude; and, although the prevailing 
tint under foot is that of the reddish earth, tufts of suc- 
culent food abound sufficient to repay the sheep fur cruis- 
ing everywhere, while occasional glades furnish the most 
delicious and abundant pasturage. As in every forest, 
the processes of nature are slow — it takes a long time for 
the dead past to bury its dead. Oa. every side lie fallen 
trees: and a generation of rain and snow, sunshine and 
wind and tempest, must elapse before these are rotted 
away and by the enrichment of the soil can furnish nour- 
ishment and life to their progeny and successors, Natu- 
rally these trees are a hindrance and annoyance to the 
sheep-herder; they separate his flock and greatly increase 
his labors. The land is not even his master's, whose one 
idea is temporary gain; hence there is no restraining 
influence whatever for their preservation. "So long as it 
lasts my lifetime, what matter?" is the prevailing senti- 
ment. 
As there is no rain during the summer months, the 
fallen trees become perfectly dry; a handful of lighted 
twigs is all that is required to set fire to them, when they 
blaze or smoulder until consumed. Owing to the absence 
of underbrush forest fires are far less common than would 
be expected, but of course the soil is impoverished by the 
deprivation of" its natural enrichment, the decaying 
wood, and the centuries to come will there, as well nigh 
everywhere in our country, point the finger of scorn at 
our, spendthrift forestry. 
Although this is the chief economic injury, the beauty 
of the woods is sadly marred; all large game is frightened 
away except the bear, which is half human and half hog 
in his methods, and minds it not at all— in fact, finds the 
presence of man perfectly intelligible, and his fat flocks 
a substantial addition to his own bill of fare. Leonard 
pointed but to us a certain mountain shrub, a rank poison 
to sheep. Every cluster of it in his range is known to the 
herder, who keeps the sheep in his charge at a safe dis- 
tance. This is one of his important duties, for if a sheep 
eats of this plant he is a "goner." 
In one particular the pasturage of the high Sierras has 
greatly Buffered. The ranchmen naturally wish to get 
the sheep off 'the home range as early in the spring as 
possible— in fact, the last month there is one of starva- 
tion. The new crops have not yet grown; nothing re- 
mains standing of the old but a few dead stalks of weeds; 
the supply of alfalfa cut the year before has long since 
been exhausted, and, metaphorically speaking, the sheep 
and cattle have to dine, as the hungry Indian is said to 
do, by tightening his belt half a dozen holes and thinking 
of what he had to eat week before last. Only the weak- 
lings die, however; the others become lean and restless, 
and as eager as their masters to start for the mountains. 
The journey supplies them with scant pickings, just 
enough to keep body and soul together, but morally it is 
a relief from the monotony of starvation at home, and 
they work their way stubbornly and expectantly up the 
mountains and into the forest as soon as the sun permits 
and anything has grown for them to eat. The conse- 
quence of this close grazing is that certain species of the 
grasses upon which they feed are never allowed to come 
to flower and mature their seed; hence those with a deli- 
cate root, the more strictly annual varieties, which rely 
upon seed for perpetuation of the plant, have a hard time 
of it. Where the sheep range, the wild timothy, for ex- 
ample — a dwarf variety and an excellent, sweet grass — 
has almost disappeared, although formerly it grew in' 
abundance. 
The forest glades through which we passed had the ap- 
pearance of a closely-cropped pasture, as different as 
possible from the profusion of tall grasses and beautiful 
flowering plants which grow in similar openings un- 
troubled by sheep. So far as the grasses are concerned — 
or "grass," by which, I take it, is ordinarily designated 
the foliage of the plant — I doubt if it is molested to any 
great extent by deer. Their diet is mainly the tender 
leaves of plants — "weeds" to the unscientific person. The 
heads of wild oats and of a few of the grasses might 
prove sufficiently sweet and tempting to arrest their 
fancy; but, as for grazing as sheep or cattle do, it is not 
their habit. When deer shall have come to trudge up 
hill in the plodding gait of the domestic beasts, and shall 
have abandoned their present method of ascending by a 
series of splendid springing leaps and bounds, the very 
embodiment of vigor and of wild activity, time enough 
then for them to take to munching grass, the sustenance 
of the harmless, necessary cow. At present they are 
most fastidious in their food, and select only the choicest, 
tenderest tips and sweetest tufts of herbage, picking them 
here and there, wandering and meditating as they eat. I 
will not say that they never touch grass, for I have seen 
deer feeding among cattle in the open, but it is not by 
any means the chief article of their diet, and when they 
partake of it under such circumstances, it is more as a 
gratification of their social instincts, I think, than from 
any partitular love of the food itself. 
A little before noon upon the fourth day, we arrived at 
one of the sheep camp3, to which we had been directed 
by a stray herd, and where we were to find the foreman 
of the sheep gang. At that hour of the day there v> ere 
naturally in camp but a few men. The cook was there, 
of course. His functions were simple enough — to make 
bread, tea, and boil mutton, or bake it in a Mexican oven 
beneath the coals. With him was the chief herder and 
a half-witted Portuguese, who upon the day following, in 
the plenitude of his zeal and mental deficiency, insisted 
upon offering himself as live bait for a grizzly, as will be 
narrated. 
During the afternoon I strolled further up the mountain 
with my rifle, in the hope of a shot at a stray deer, and 
to have a look at the lay of the land. Bear tracks I saw 
and a little deer sign also, but it was too early in the day 
regularly to hunt. All nature nodded in the dozy glare of 
the August afternoon, and after the hot journey in the 
saddle I found a siesta under the clean sprue 8 trees refresh- 
ing. Toward sunset I awoke to find a pine martin in a 
tree across the gulch reconnoitering, and evidently turn- 
ing over in his .mind the probabilities whether the big 
creature curled up on the hillside "forninst" him were of 
the cast of hunter or hunted. I soon brought him out of 
that, and upon my return to camp the hide was gra- 
ciously accepted by the chief herder, who converted the 
head of it into a tobacco pouch with neatness and dis- 
patch. At the evening meal there were good-natured 
references to chile con oso— bear's meat cooked with red 
peppers — regret expressed that the camp's larder could at 
present afford none, and expressions of confidence that 
this delicacy would soon be set before us — all most politely 
and comfortably insinuated. They had the gratification 
of their desire; it was on the next day but one. 
That night there was a great jabbering of bad Spanish 
around the camp-fire. Had this been the rendezvous of 
Sicilian brigands, it doubtless would have a slightly more 
picturesque appearance, but the difference would have 
been only of degree, not at all of kind. The absence of 
rain made tents unnecessary. Piles of bedding, of cook- 
ing and riding equipment, defined the encampment. 
Around the fire a dozen Mexicans clustered, of whom, ex- 
cept the chief herder and Leonard, not one spoke English. 
They wore the broad hats of their race, and were arrayed 
for protection against the cool night winds of the Sierras 
in old and shabby cloaks, some of which had been origin- 
ally bright in color, but now were subdued by age and 
dirt into comfortable harmony with the quiet tones of 
the mountain and the forest. Old quilts and sheepskins 
carpeted a small place where we had heen invited to seat 
ourselves upon our arrival. Then, as throughout our stay, 
every possible mark of hospitality was shown us — a deli- 
cious, faint survival of Casttlian courtesy. 
Long after I had turned in, somewhere in the dead vast 
and middle of the night, I was aroused by the sound of 
scurry and scampering among the bunch of sheep which 
was rounded up near the camp. Experience has taught 
these creatures to efface themsleves at night, and they are 
only too glad to sleep quietly, as near as possible to 
humans, with no disposition to wander after dark. They 
realize their danger from bears, yet the protection which 
a Mexican affords is a purely imaginary thing, as unsub- 
stantial as the baseless fabric of a vision, of as little real 
substance for the protection 6f the flock as the dream of 
mutton stew and fat bear, by no means a baseless fabric, 
which engrosses the sleeping shepherd, body and mind , 
The disturbance upon this occasion soon subsided. One 
and another of the shepherds sleepily moved in his 
blankets — perhaps swore to himself a hurried prayer or 
two — but not one of them spoke aloud or indicated the 
slightest intention of investigating the cause of the com- 
motion. Only too well they and the sheep knew what it 
signified. Quiet reigned again, and, attaching no impor- 
tance to the incident, I was promptly asleep. 
In the morning I learned that the disturbing cause had 
been the charge of a grizzly into the flock within a stone's 
throw of us, a sound too familiar to occasion comment at 
the time. There were the tracks, to leeward of the sheep, 
of a she grizzly and two cubs. Their approach had been 
without a sound; not the snap of a twig, or the faintest 
footfall, had given any signal of their presence. The 
mother had critically overhauled the flock in her mind 
from a slight rise of ground, on a level with their backs 
or slightly higher, and made deliberate choice of a fat 
wether, having a discriminating eye, and being too good 
a judge of sheep flesh to take any but such as are in prime 
condition. A single quick rush and she has secured her 
victim, in an instant, before the-rest are fairly upou their 
feet, and is off, carrying the sheep in her mouth as easily 
as a cat would her kitten, her delighted cubs trotting 
behind. Every two or three nights this occurrence was 
repeated, with no interference upon the part of the Mexi- 
cans. "What recks it them?" "The hungry sheep look 
up and are not fed." On the contrary, the bears are. As 
for the Mexicans, they have "lost no bear!" To have seen 
the intruder would have been only a gratuitous anxiety, 
since nothing in the world would have tempted them to 
fire at it. Should they risk life and limb for a sheep? and 
that the patron's, who had so many ! It was not their 
quarrel! The charge of the grizzly was a thing as much 
to be accepted as an incident of the Sierras as the thun- 
derbolt—equally dangerous to him who should interfere 
as the lightning stroke to one daring to interpose his rifle 
between the angry heavens and the fore-doomed tree. 
We may feel sure that the lesson is not lost upon the 
cubs. They are taught energy, sagacity, craft in matur- 
ing their plans, courage and promptness in their execu- 
tion. They are taught reverence for the ursine genius, 
unbounded admiration for their mother's leadership and 
Bteadiness of nerve, at the same time they are taught con- 
tempt for the stupidity of sheep and the pusillanimity of 
humans. It may be that an apologist for the latter might 
find a word to mitigate their too severe sentence. A she 
grizzly of the Sierras, at night, with hungry cubs to feed, 
is not an altogether pleasant thing to face when infuriated 
by wounds, none of which may be bad enough to cripple 
her, yet combined are amply sufficient to make her pretty 
cross and dangerous. The Mexican is a poor shot, but 
what can you expect? His vocation is a. humble one. 
Were be of more positive and determined temperament, 
he would be a vaquero of the plains, or boyero (Anglice 
"bull- whacker") on the Santa Fe trail or down in old 
Mexico; and not the dry nurse of these "woolly idiots," in 
whose race, for innumerable centuries, man has elabo- 
rately cultivated stupidity, and, by systematic process of 
artificial selection, has faithfully eliminated every sign of 
insubordination and the last trace of individuality of tem- 
perament, and that which in our race is called character. 
No native-born white man in this country can be induced 
to follow, for any length of time, the vocation of shep- 
herd. The deadly monotony of the occupation drives him 
either to imbecility or desperation. It is well known that 
men who habitually care for any animal come in time to 
resemble him. Stable boys, bred to the vocation of 
groom, become horse-faced and equine of disposition, 
eventually they wheeze and whistle like a curry-comb. 
Cowboys partake of the scatter-brained recklessness of the 
Texas steer which they tend. No one can admit dogs to 
be daily and familiar companions without absorbing into 
his system somewhat of their sense of humor and faithful- 
ness. The lion-tamer, who enters unscathed the den of 
his charge, must share the robustious courage and deter- 
mination of the beast with which he associates. The rat- 
catcher, whether he be ferret or man, partakes of the 
fierce slyness of the game he follows; and I remember 
that, years ago, before I ever heard mention of this 
peculiarity of resemblance, I could detect, plainly writ in 
the face of the attendant of "Mr. Crowley," when he was 
kept in the old arsenal building in Central Park, the re- 
flected temperament and animalism of the poor, indolent, 
captive chimpanzee, whose fellow and all too sympathetic 
friend he had made himself. Naturalists are well aware 
of this phenomenon. 
If this be so, and stupidity catching, what more potent 
influence of fatty degeneration of the intellect could there 
be than the uninterrupted society of sheep, with nothing 
in the world to think of except their care — without even 
the stimulating influence of gain to redeem the paralyzing 
service. The sheep are not their own, and if the bears 
eat them up the keepers do not feel the stimulating ache 
in their money-pocket that might tempt them, however 
feebly, to resist aggression. Moreover, as a rule, they are 
wretchedly armed. Each of these men carried an old six- 
shooter of an outlandish and forgotten pattern, good 
enough to try a chance shot at another Mexican with, but 
only a source of more or less pleasurable titillation to a 
bear, were one ever to be discharged at him, and about as 
effective as pelting an alligator with strawberries. If the 
last stage of misery for a horse be to drag, along its rigid 
road of stone and iron, the city horse-car with its thank- 
less freight of fares, the corresponding degradation of the 
"gun" is to rest upon the hip of a degenerate sheep-herder, 
half Spaniard, half Indian and half coyote. Any self- 
respecting weapon reduced to such straits would be con- 
scious of its low estate; its magazine would revolve in a 
creaky, half-hearted reluctant fashion; it would doubtless 
fire an apologetic bullet; its report would be something 
between "scat" and "beg your pardon," to which a bear 
would pay but slight heed, Others of the Mexicans were 
armed with old muskets, somewhat rusty and ram- 
shackly, but with a furry longitudinal perforation 
throughout their length, along which — it could not cred- 
itably be called a bore — a ball could after a fashion, if you 
gave it time enough, be propelled. Leonard was excep- 
tionally fortunate in this respect; he carried an old rim- 
fire .44-40 Winchester, the action of which occasionally 
worked and occasionally did not. Comparatively speaking, 
he was rather a swell in the matter of firearms; but if one 
should put his trust in him in case of emergency as a sheet 
anchor to windward, there was always the remote pos- 
sibility, were the strain too intense, that he might not be 
a dependence of absolute security. 
The afternoon of this day, much against my real incli- 
nation, but in accordance with the prevailing desire, we 
started out, the whole rabble of us, to follow the she griz 
zly's trail. It could not be called a "still-hunt," for the 
reason that six men hunting in a pack are never still; 
however, it did not matter. We found in a neighboring 
gulch bits of the fleece, bones and hides of three sheep, 
and the sufficiently plain evidence upon the trampled and 
bloody ground of recent feasts. Yet tnis was the ban- 
