498 
FOREST AND STREAM 
November, 1921 
HUNTING IN THE HIMALAYAS 
CONCLUDING THE RECORD OF A JOURNEY INTO THE HIGH COUNTRY 
OF NORTHERN INDIA IN SEARCH OF WILD SHEEP AND TAHR 
H AVING bagged a leopard, kakur, 
pig, goral, and tahr I was anxious 
to kill a burrel (wild sheep), so we broke 
camp at Kapan, and a few days’ stiff 
marching took us to the foot of a 12,400 
ft. pass. My friend had taken several 
photos of the scenery, and from time to 
time we had shot game birds for the 
table. 
Two days before reaching our camp 
at the foot of the pass we had a good 
view of the Gohna Lake and landslip. 
This enormous slip occurred in Septem- 
ber, 1893, and huge masses of rock 
and white precipitate earth completely 
dammed up the Biri river. The dam was 
about half a mile broad, a mile long, and 
1,000 feet deep. The snow-fed river 
continued flowing in, and by the follow- 
ing summer there was a lake of over 5 
miles in length, rising at the rate of an 
inch a day. A large village 
was completely submerged, and 
when the monsoon broke the 
lake rose rapidly, at times at 
the rate of a foot per day. 
Meanwhile the engineers in 
charge had fixed up a tele- 
graph wire, and cleared the in- 
habitants out of the valley, as 
it was believed the dam would 
burst. The water rose to 
within a few feet of the high- 
est point of the dam, and then 
sank a few feet, and the engi- 
neer, expecting the dam to 
burst that night, fixed up a 
line of lanterns, each ten feet 
above the other. The enor- 
mous pressure of water car- 
ried away the dam about mid- 
night, one dark rainy night at 
the end of August, 1894, and in 
a few seconds eighteen lan- 
terns were swept away, show- 
ing that the flood had risen 180 
feet. With a deafening noise 
the mighty torrent surged on- 
wards, tearing away everything in its 
path, and in a very few hours flooded 
the Ganges at Hardwar. 
No loss of life was reported, and this 
was due to the foresight and good man- 
agement of the Public Works Depart- 
ment. 
The highwater mark is still to be seen 
at the foot of the great white slip, and 
there is a picturesque sheet of water 
about two miles in length remaining. 
The once submerged village of Doormea 
has been repaired, and stands as it stood 
before the flood. 
And now for the Pass. From our 
camp on the south side we had a climb 
of about 3,000 feet, and never shall I 
forget the view when we reached the 
summit. My friend had prepared me, 
but I never expected such a truly mag- 
nificent panorama of peaks and glaciers. 
Right across the horizon towered the 
By ALEXANDER DAVIS 
gigantic snowy crests. The great square 
Chaukamba, or Four Peaks (22,395 
feet), Nali Kanta (21,713), Kamet, 
(25,443), Mana (23,862), Hathi Parbat 
(the “Elephant” snow-mountain), and 
Gora Parbat (the “Horse” snow-moun- 
tain), both over 20,000 feet. A range 
of sharp white pinnacles; several other 
grand snow-crowned giants, and a beau- 
tiful snow cone called Dunagiri (23,186 
feet), while the king, Nanda Devi, 
(25,660 feet) reared his mighty sugar 
loaf away to the Eastward. By crossing 
the pass we had turned Trisul, and Han- 
unrau, which now lay to the S. E. In the 
clear and frosty air my friend and I 
stood for many minutes contemplating 
the majestic grandeur of the scene, a 
view second to none in the World. 
I was pointed out the valley below the 
Nali Kanta glaciers, where lies the 
Hindu Temple of Badrinath, the sacred 
shrine, to which tens of thousands of 
pilgrims make their way every summer, 
many of them trudging barefooted from 
far distant parts of Hindustan to be blest 
by their High Priest and wash away 
their sins in the holy river Ganges, which 
has its source among these glaciers. 
As I could not take my gaze from 
these sublime works of Nature, Black- 
more ordered a waterproof sheet and 
blanket to be spread on the frozen snow, 
which lay to the depth of a foot or more 
on the pass, and for quite half an hour 
we sat basking in the sun. Away to our 
right, not far from the foot of Dunagiri 
we could see a wild valley which my 
friend informed me was good ground for 
burrel and to our front, across the depths 
of the Dhouli, some tremendous preci- 
pices showed ; fit ground for the shaggy 
jungly-looking animals (tahr) which in- 
habited them. But we began to feel 
chilly and strolled on to where my friend 
expected we should find a covey of snow 
partridges, and perhaps some snov' 
pheasants as well. The former birds are 
the nearest approach to grouse among 
Himalayan game : and the latter are real- 
ly gigantic partridges, plumb old birds 
weighing as much as 6 lbs ; both spe- 
cies are only found at high elevations, 
the snow pheasants being exceedingly 
wild and difficult to circumvent. 
As the road began to descend, “Ran- 
ger,” my friend’s setter told us plainly 
that a covey of birds was not far off. He 
was ordered to “Hold-up,” and dashed up 
a little ravine where rhododendron 
bushes grew among grey boulders. Pres- 
ently he came to a beautiful point, look- 
ing a perfect picture on the snow-cov- 
ered ground. 
Blackmore waved his hand, 
and he advanced a few yards 
and stood again. 
The birds lay close, and my 
friend ordered one of the men 
to get above and flush them; 
meanwhile the old dog stood 
staunchly, looking around at 
his master every now and then 
for further orders. 
With some shrill whistles 
the covey of snow-partridges 
rose, and came nicely over- 
head. Blackmore dropped a 
brace, and I only one. The re- 
mainder flew down to some 
precipices below, and “Ran- 
ger” captured my bird, which 
was a runner. 
We had a long descent, 
rather tiring, and camped close 
to a village below a little for- 
est of bright green chila-pines. 
It was very cold, and froze 
hard that night. Three days 
more tramping brought us to 
the burrel ground. During the 
last three days we had journeyed along 
narrow roads, constantly meeting long 
lines of goats and sheep on their way 
to the lower ranges, and plains; each 
animal carrying saddle-bags containing 
salt, and borax from Tibet. Besides 
the goats and sheep were yaks, jiboos 
(a cross between yak and mountain 
cattle), ponies, and a few donkeys, all 
laden with trading materials and house- 
hold goods. 
Our camp on the burrel ground was 
the coldest I have known, as we were at 
about 12,000 feet altitude, surrounded by 
snow mountains. 
N EXT morning, accompanied by two ■ 
shikaris, I started before seven. 
There was a cutting breeze, but the walk- 
ing warmed us up. The local shikari 
sighted a herd of sixteen burrel, among 
( Continued on page 510 ) 
Courtesy of N. Y. Zoological Society 
Burrel or wild sheep of the Himalayas 
