FOREST AND STREAM 
[Aug. 27, 1904. 
JOOffiAN TOURIST 
Wilderness Reserves.* 
BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT. 
The practical common sense of the American people 
has been in no way made more evident during the last 
few years than by the creation and use of a series of 
large land reserves — situated for the most part on the 
great plains and among the mountains of the West— in- 
tended to keep the forests from destruction, and there- 
fore to conserve the water supply. These reserves are 
created purely for economic purposes. The semi-arid 
regions can only support a reasonable population under 
conditions of the strictest economy and wisdom in the 
use of the water supply, and in addition to their other 
economic uses the forests are indispensably necessary for 
the preservation of the water supply and for rendering 
possible its useful distribution throughout the proper 
seasons. In addition, however, to the economic use of 
the wilderness by preserving it for such purposes where 
it is unsuited for agricultural uses, it is wise here and 
there to keep selected portions of it — of course only 
those portions unfit for settlement — in a state of nature, 
not merely for the sake of preserving the forests and 
the water, but for the sake of preserving all its beauties 
and wonders unspoiled by greedy and shortsighted van- 
dalism. These beauties and wonders include animate as 
well as inanimate objects. 
The wild creatures of the wilderness add to it by their 
presence a charm which it can acquire in no other way. 
On every ground it is well for our nation to preserve, 
.not only for the sake of this generation, but above all 
for the sake of those who come after us, representatives 
of the stately and beautiful haunters of the wilds which 
were once found throughout our great forests, over the 
vast lonely plains, and on the high mountain ranges, but 
which are now on the point of vanishing save where they 
are protected in natural breeding grounds-and nurseries. 
The work of preservation must be carried on in such a 
way as to, make it evident that we are working in the 
interest of the people as a whole, not in the interest of 
any particular class ; and that the people benefited beyond 
all others are those who dwell nearest to the regions in 
which the reserves are placed. The movement for the 
preservation by the nation of sections of the wilderness 
as national playgrounds is essentially a democratic move- 
ment in the interest of all our people. 
On April 8, 1903, John Burroughs and I reached the 
Yellowstone Park, and were met by Major John Pitcher 
of the Regular Army, the Superintendent of the Park. 
The Major and I fortwith took horses; he telling me that 
he could show me a good deal of game while riding up to 
his house at the Mammoth Hot Springs. Hardly had we 
left the little town of Gardiner and gotten within the 
limits of the Park before we saw prong-buck. There 
was a band of at least a hundred feeding some distance 
from the road. We rode leisurely toward them. They 
were tame compared to their kindred in unprotected 
places; that is, it was easy to ride within fair rifle range 
of them; but they were not familiar in the sense that 
we afterwards found the bighorn and . the deer to be 
familiar. During the two hours following my entry into 
the Park we rode around the plains and lower slopes 
of the foothills in the neighborhood of the mouth of the 
Gardiner, and we saw several hundred — probably a 
thousand all told — of these antelope. Major Pitcher 
informed me that all the pronghorns in the Park win- 
tered in this neighborhood. Toward the end of April or 
the first of May they migrate back to their summering 
homes in the ooen valleys along the Yellowstone and in 
the plains south of .the Golden Gate. While migrating 
they go over the mountains and through forests if occa- 
sion demands. Although there are plenty of coyotes in 
the Park, there are no big wolves, and save for very 
infrequent poachers the only enemy of the antelope, as 
indeed the only enemy of all the game, is the cougar. 
Cougars, known in the Park as elsewhere through the 
West as "mountain lions," are plentiful, having increased 
in numbers of recent years. Except in the neighborhood 
of the Gardiner River, that is within a few miles of 
Mammoth Hot Springs, I found them feeding on elk, 
which in the Park far outnumber all other game put to- 
gether, being so numerous that the ravages of the 
cougars are of no real damage to the herds. But in the 
neighborhood of the Mammoth Hot Springs^ the cougars 
are noxious because of the antelope, mountain sheep and 
deer which they kill ; and the Superintendent has imported 
some hounds with which to hunt them. These hounds 
are managed by Buffalo Jones, a famous old plainsman, 
who is now in the Park taking care of the buffalo. On 
this first day of my visit to the Park, I came aeross the 
carcasses of a deer and of an antelope which the cougars 
had killed. On the great plains cougars rarely get ante- 
lope, but here the country is broken so that the big cats 
can make their stalks under favorable circumstances. 
To deer and mountain sheep the cougar is a most 
dangerous enemy — much more so than the wolf. 
The antelope we saw were usually in bands of from 
twenty to one hundred and fifty, and they traveled 
strung out almost in single file, though those in the rear 
would sometimes bunch up. I did not try . to stalk them, 
but got as near them as I could on horseback. The 
*This is one of the chapters in the new volume of the Boone 
gn4 Crockett Clwb BgoJf,- 'Aw?n9W Pif Game in its Haunts," 
closest approach I was able to make was to within about 
eighty yards of two which were by themselves — I think 
a doe and a last year's fawn. As I was riding up to 
them, although they looked suspiciously at me, one 
actually lay down. When I was passing them at about 
eighty yards distance, the big one became nervous, gave 
a. sudden jump, and away the two went at full speed. 
Why the prong-bucks were so comparatively shy I 
do not know, for right on the ground with them we came 
upon deer, and, in the immediate neighborhood, moun- 
tain sheep, which were absurdly tame. The mountain 
sheep were nineteen in number, for the most part does 
and yearlings _ with a couple of three-year-old rams, but 
not a single big fellow — for the big fellows at this season 
are off by themselves, singly or in little bunches, high up 
in the mountains. The band I saw was tame to a de- 
gree matched by but few domestic animals. 
They were feeding on the brink of a steep wash-out 
at the upper edge of one of the benches on the mountain 
side just below where the abrupt slope began. They 
were alongside a little gully with sheer walls. I rode my 
horse to within forty yards of them, one of them occa- 
sionally looking up and at once continuing to feed. Then 
they moved slowly off and leisurely crossed the gully to 
the other side. I dismounted, walked around the head of 
the gully, and moving cautiously, but in plain sight, came 
closer and closer until I was within twenty yards, where 
I sat down on a stone and spent certainly twenty minutes 
looking at them. They paid hardly any attention what- 
ever to my presence— certainly no more than well-treated 
domestic creatures would pay. One of the rams rose on 
his hind legs, leaning his fore-hoofs against a little pine 
tree, and browsed the ends of the budding branches. The 
others grazed on the short grass and herbage or lay 
down and rested — two of the yearlings sometimes play- 
fully butting at one another. Now and then one would 
glance in my direction without the slightest sign of fear 
— barely even of curiosity. I have no question whatever 
but that with a little patience this particular band could 
be made to feed out of a man's hand. Major Pitcher 
intends during the coming winter to feed them alfalfa — 
for game animals of several kinds have become so plenti- 
ful in the neighborhood of the Hot Springs, and the 
Major has grown so interested in them, that he wishes to 
do something toward feeding them during the severe 
winter. After I had looked at the sheep to my heart's 
content, I walked back to my horse, my departure arous- 
ing as little interest as my advent. 
Soon after leaving them, we began to come across 
black-tail deer, singly, in twos and threes, and in small 
bunches of a dozen or so. They were almost as tame 
as the mountain sheep, but not quite. That is, they 
always looked alertly at me, and though if I stayed still 
they would graze, they kept a watch over my movements, 
and usually moved slowly off when I got within less 
than forty yards of them. Up to that distance, whether 
on foot or on horseback, they paid but little heed to me, 
and on several occasions they allowed me to come much 
closer. Like the bighorn, the black-tails at this time were 
grazing, not browsing, but I occasionally saw them nib- 
ble some willow buds. During the winter they had been 
browsing. As we got close to the Hot Springs we came 
across several white-tail in an open, marshy meadow. 
They were not quite as tame as the black-tail, although 
without any difficulty I walked up to within fifty yards of 
them. Handsome though the black-tail is, the white-tail 
is the most beautiful of all deer when in motion, because 
of the springy, bounding grace of its trot and canter, and 
the way it carries its head and white flag aloft. 
Before reaching the Mammoth Hot Springs we also 
saw a number of ducks in the little pools and on the 
Gardiner. Some of them were rather shy. Others — 
probably those which, as Major Pitcher informed me, 
had spent the winter there — were as tame as barnyard 
fowls. 
Just before reaching the post, the Major took me into 
the big field where Buffalo Jones had some Texas and 
Flat Head Lake buffalo — bulls and cows — which he was 
tending with solicitous care. The original stock of buf- 
falo in the Park have now been reduced to fifteen or 
twenty individuals, and the intention is to try to mix 
them with the score of buffalo which have been pur- 
chased out of the Flat Head Lake and Texas Pan- 
handle herds. The buffalo were put within a wire fence, 
which, when it was built, was found to have included 
both black-tail and white-tail deer. A bull elk was also 
put in with them at one time — he having met with some 
accident which made the Major and Buffalo Jones bring 
him in to doctor him. When he recovered his health 
he became very cross. Not only would he attack men, 
but also buffalo, even the old and surly master bull, 
thumping them savagely with his antlers if they did any- 
thing to which he objected. 
When I reached the post and dismounted at the 
Major's house, I supposed my experiences with wild 
beasts for the day were ended ; but this was an error. 
The quarters of the officers and men and the various 
hotel buildings, stables, residences of the civilian offi- 
cials, etc., almost completely surround the big parade 
ground at the post, near the middle of which stands the 
flag-pole, while the gun used for morning and evening 
salutes is well off to one side. There are large gaps be- 
tween some of the buildings, and Major Pitcher informed 
me that throughout the winter he had been leaving 
alfalfa on the parade ground, and that numbers of black- 
tail deer had been in the habit of visiting it every day, 
sometimes as many as seventy being on the parade 
ground at once. As springtime came on the numbers 
diminished. However, in mid-afternoon, while I was 
writing in my room in Major Pitcher's house, on look- 
ing, out of the window I saw five deer on the parade 
ground. They were as tame as so many Alderny cows, 
and when I walked out I got up to within twenty yards 
of them without any difficulty. It was most amusing 
to see them as the time approached for the sunset gun 
to be fired. The notes of the trumpeter attracted their 
attention at once. They all looked at him eagerly. One 
then resumed feeding, and paid no attention whatever 
either to the bugle, the gun or the flag. The other four, 
however, watched the preparations for firing the gun 
with an intent gaze, and at the sound of the report gave 
two or three jumps; then instantly wheeling, looked up 
at the flag as it came down. This they seemed to regard 
as something rather more suspicious than the gun, and 
they remained very much on the alert until the ceremony 
was over. Once it was finished, they resumed feeding, 
as if nothing had happened. Before it was dark they 
trotted away from the parade ground back to the 
mountains. 
The next day we rode off to the Yellowstone River, 
camping some miles below Cottonwood Creek. It was 
a very pleasant camp. Major Pitcher, an old friend, had 
a first-class pack train, so that we were as comfortable 
as possible, and on such a trip there could be no 
pleasanter or more interesting companion than John Bur- 
roughs — "Oom John," as we soon grew to call him. 
Where our tents were pitched the bottom of the valley 
was narrow, the mountains rising steep and cliff-broken 
on either side. There were quite a number of black-tail 
in the valley, which were tame and unsuspicious, al- 
though not nearly as much so as those in the immediate 
neighborhood of the Mammoth Hot Springs. One mid- 
afternoon three of them swam across the river a hundred 
yards above our camp. But the characteristic animals of 
the region were the elk — the wapiti. They were certainly 
more numerous than when I was last through the Park 
twelve years before. 
In the summer the elk spread all over the interior of 
the Park. As winter approaches they divide, some going 
north and others south. The southern bands, which, at 
a guess, may possibly include ten thousand individuals, 
winter out of the Park, for the most part in Jackson's 
Hole — though of course here and there within the limits 
of the Park a few elk may spend both winter and sum- 
mer in an unusually favorable location. It was the mem- 
bers of the northern band that I met. During the winter 
time they are very stationary, each band staying within 
a very few miles of the same place, and from their size 
and the open nature of their habitat it is almost as easy 
to count them as if they were cattle. From a spur of 
Bison Peak one day, Major Pitcher, the guide Elwood 
Hofer, John Burroughs and I spent about four hours 
with the glasses counting and estimating the different 
herds within sight. After most careful work and cau- 
tious reduction of estimates in each case to the minimum 
the truth would permit, we reckoned three thousand head 
of elk, all lying or feeding, and all in sight at the same 
time. An estimate of some fifteen thousand for the num- 
ber of elk in these northern bands cannot be. far wrong. 
These bands do not go out of the Park at all, but winter 
just within its northern boundary. At the time when we 
saw them, the snow had vanished from the bottom of 
the valleys and the lower slopes of the mountains, but 
grew into continuous sheets further up their sides. The 
elk were for the most part found up on the snow slopes, 
occasionally singly or in small gangs — more often in 
bands of from fifty to a couple of hundred. The larger 
bulls were highest up the mountains and generally in 
small troops by themselves, although occasionally one or 
two would be found associating with a big herd of cows, 
yearlings, and two-year-olds. Many of the bulls had 
shed their antlers ; many had not. During the winter 
the elk had evidently done much browsing, but at this 
time they were grazing almost exclusively, and seemed 
by preference to seek out the patches of old grass which 
were last left bare by the retreating snow. The bands 
moved about very little, and if one were seen one day it 
was generally possible to find it within a few hundred 
yards of the same spot the next day, and certainly not 
more than a mile or two off. There were severe frosts 
at night, and occasionally light flurries of snow; but the 
hardy beasts evidently cared nothing for any but heavy 
storms, and seemed to prefer to lie in the snow rather 
than upon the open ground. They fed at irregular hours 
throughout. the day, just like cattle; one band might.be 
lying down while another was feeding. While traveling 
they usually went almost in single file. Evidently the 
winter had weakened them, and they were not in condi- 
tion for running; for on the one or two occasions when 
I wanted to see them close up I ran right into them on 
horseback, both on level plains and going up hill along 
the sides of rather steep mountains. One band in par- 
ticular I practically rounded up for John Burroughs — 
finally getting them to stand in a huddle while he and I 
sat . on our horses_ less, than fifty yards off. After they 
had run a little distance they opened their mouths wide 
and showed evident signs of distress. 
We came across a good many carcasses, Two, a bull 
