46 
The Prong- Horned Antelope 
for signs of danger, and never going far 
away, excepting, perhaps, when forced to 
seek water; a necessary absence which she 
cuts as short as she possibly can, and any- 
thing hke the squeak of a kid will bring her 
back at restless speed with blazing eye and 
bristling hair ready to fight to the death an 
ordinary foe, or if it be one too strong, to in- 
tercept and mislead him by every device the 
mother wit can bring to bear. There are 
Heads of young bucks. 
not many creatures native to the plains that 
she will not face in such a case. 
It seems likely that few Antelope kids are 
killed by their natural enemies, except such 
as are surprised during the brief absences 
of the devoted mother. 
This is a danger inseparable from polyg- 
amy. If the Antelope had developed mo- 
nogamy the young would have two adults 
to protect them; at least one would likely be 
near at all times, and the superior prowess 
of the buck might even eliminate the chief 
danger of their young lives. 
Though strong enough to follow the 
mother, they are yet ready at her signal to 
hide when danger threatens, and the mar- 
vellous way in which they "play dead" is 
most inspiring. 
June 13, 1897, 1 rode to the top of Junc- 
tion Butte, in Yellowstone Park. As my 
head rose above the level I caught sight of 
an Antelope walking along, and followed by 
a smaller animal that turned out to be the 
kid. Very soon the mother saw me and 
communicated her alarm to the young one, 
which dropped at once to the ground. The 
mother ran off to one side uttering the loud 
grunting bleat of the species. Evidently she 
was trying to decoy me away, 
but I rode straight to where the 
young one dropped, and found 
I him crouching flat on the bare 
M ground, and yet so well con- 
yWk cealed by his protective color 
fcjr/y; and his stillness that I never 
Wr j should have found him had I 
^ not marked him down. I rode 
around him and spent some 
twenty minutes making the 
sketch which, finished after- 
ward, appears on page 47. 
During this time he gave no 
sign of life, even a fly crawling 
over his eye and nose did not 
make him forget that his duty 
was to "lay low" at whatever 
cost. 
Just how his mother ordered 
him to hide I cannot tell. I am 
satisfied that he did not see the 
danger. She may have grunt- 
ed, but I am inclined to think 
that the danger signal was a 
flash of her crupper-discs. 
This young one I take to 
have been two weeks old. His 
colors were quite unlike those of the old one, 
being soft, unspotted shades of gray and 
brown that matched him with the ground, 
helping him to hide, constituting a protective 
coloration, in contrast to the directive livery 
of the old one; a livery which he does not as- 
sume until he is able to save himself by run- 
ning. 
On June 12, 1897, we rode down the 
Yellowstone in the Park with Mr. E. Hofer. 
Three Antelope were in sight. By imitating 
the squeak of a young one, Hofer brought 
the old one up close, and shortly afterward 
we found two of the young close together, but 
they were well grown, much larger than the 
one of the 13th, and yet crouching in the 
sage while the mother circled 200 yards 
away uttering her alarm bleat. When we 
