74 
FORES T A X I) S T R E A M 
February, 1919 
ANTELOPES OF LOWER CALIFORNIA 
THE PRONGHORN IS A DISTINCTIVELY NORTH AMERICAN ANIMAL, IN 
SWIFTNESS OF FOOT SURPASSING ANY OTHER NATIVE MAMMAL 
O F all mammals, the pronghorn is 
most distinctively North American, 
for it is the sole representative of 
a family of ungulates found nowhere else. 
In its anatomical structure it combines 
certain characteristics of the deer, the 
wild cattle, and the true antelopes. It 
is the only hollow-horned ungulate that 
periodically sheds the sheaths of its 
horns; another unique feature is the ab- 
sence of dew-claws on its feet. It is a 
splendid example of a highly-specialized, 
essentially plains-living creature, and all 
observers agree that in swiftness of foot 
it surpasses any other native American 
mammal. Pronghorns formerly ranged 
over practically the entire western half 
01 the United States, northward well 
into Canada and southward in Mexico 
to the edge of the tropics. 
The interesting letter from Dr. George 
Bird Grinnell, in the December Forest 
AND Stream, with reference to the au- 
tumn migration of the pronghorn, and 
the accompanying editorial on “The 
Vanishing Antelope,” make it appropri- 
ate to call attention to the fact that a 
considerable though rapidly diminishing 
number of pronghorns still exists in the 
northern part of the Mexican State of 
Lower California. These pronghorns be- 
long to a distinct geographical race or 
subspecies, described, in 1912, as Anti- 
locapra americana peninsularis by Mr. 
E. W. Nelson, the Chief of the U. S. 
Biological Survey. The form of antelope 
inhabiting the United States and Canada 
is known as subspecies americana, while 
that of the Mexican tableland is called 
mexicana, making three races of this 
unique and highly interesting game 
animal on the continent. 
Within ten years pronghorns were 
abundant in the arid basins of northern 
Lower California, but they have now 
been shot down to a poor remnant, along 
with the splendid Cocopah mountain 
sheep and other mammals that yield 
meat or trophies. Pronghorns in par- 
ticular, judging from their history in 
our western states, .seem literally to 
wither away before the onslaughts of 
hunters, their exceedingly delicate ad- 
justment to a rather limited environ- 
ment, and consequent non-adaptability, 
doubtless contributing much toward their 
speedy extermination. Nelson predicts 
a brief and unfortunate future for the 
Ixjwer Californian race, and, in a ter- 
ritory as yet without game laws, the 
fulfillment of his prophecy is more likely 
to be hastened than delayed. 
r HE Natural History Depart- 
ment has been for nearly half 
a century a clearing-house for in- 
formation of interest to all. Our 
readers are invited to send any 
questions that come under the head 
of this department to Robert Cush- 
man Murphy, in care of Forest 
AND Stream. Mr. Murphy, who is 
Curator of the Department of Na- 
tural Science in the Brooklyn 
Museum, will answer through these 
columns. — [Editors.] 
The pronghorn antelope 
I N the spring of 1915 I had the pleasure 
of making an expedition into the lit- 
tle-known desert sinks of northern 
Lower California, between the delta of 
the River Colorado and the peninsular 
escarpment, for the principal purpose 
of obtaining specimens of pronghorns 
and other desert-living creatures that 
were desired for use in the Brooklyn 
Museum’s exhibit of desert life. My 
companion in the field work was Mr. 
R. H. Rockwell, chief taxidermist in 
the Museum, who subsequently mounted 
the animals collected. 
We began our actual hunting on April 
2, 1915, on the desert slopes west of the 
Pattie Basin. We had ended our out- 
ward journey the night before, and had 
made camp in the heart of the ante- 
lope country, seven miles from the near- 
est water-hole. Starting by starlight 
and moonlight on the morning of the 2d, 
we were off with the guide. Captain 
Funcke, just as the first faint streak of 
orange lined the crest of the Pinto Moun- 
tains. The sun rose red and sparkled 
on the heights of San Pedro Martir, 
and for a brief while the desert was 
like a garden of cool, sweet odors. The 
perfume came mostly from a lavender 
“four o’clock” (Abronia villosa), but 
was mingled with the delicate scent of 
a small white primrose, a tall desert 
“Easter lily,” and a score of other flow- 
ers, yellow, white, red, and purple. 
Mocking-birds were singing their best 
from every mesquite; a pair of croak- 
ing ravens circled over us; various liz- 
ards, just warming into activity, scut- 
tled hither and thither. We spread out 
abreast about two hundred yards apart, 
keeping a sharp lookout ahead. The 
country was fairly open — with ironwood 
and mesquite along the washes, and 
groves of creosote bush stretching down 
towards the basin. In most places we 
could see around us for three or four 
hundred yards, sometimes even farther. 
Walking was difficult, owing to the fields 
of volcanic pebbles on the mesa, and the 
soft sand in the arroyos. The heart- 
shaped tracks of antelopes were visible 
everywhere, but were mostly old. Fin- 
ally we came upon the track of a single 
buck which had apparently passed with- 
in a short time, and a few minutes later 
I spied the animal some distance in ad- 
vance. I had scarcely time to crouch, 
before it started off on. a lope, and, after 
we had trailed it about two miles, we 
gave it up and sought a new trail. 
A ntelopes begin to feed early in 
the morning, and cover the ground 
rapidly while they graze; but be- 
fore the sun is high they almost invari- 
ably lie down to rest. If a band is dis- 
covered while feeding, the animals do 
not always run away at sight. They 
may instead stand and watch with curi- 
osity, or they may even come forward 
