CHINA 
horns, and it is impossible to say definitely whence they are imported. 
That the trade is enormous and, equally, the destruction which goes on 
the whole time among these fine animals, may be gathered from the 
“Report on a Journey to the Eastern Frontier of Thibet,” presented 
to both Houses of Parliament, 1905, by Sir Alexander Hosie. He 
writes: “Deer horns in velvet, to the value of Tls.30,000, are exported 
annually.” 
Mr W. C. Haines Watson puts the annual export of deer horns in velvet 
from Kuan-hsien at 1,500 catties (1 catty = 1| lb. English), valued at 
Tls.30,000, and from Sungpan he places the value of the annual export at 
the same figure. 
Deer, particularly the larger species, are being steadily exterminated 
throughout the Chinese Empire. Were the natives armed with modern 
rifles they would quickly vanish altogether. With the weapons they already 
possess they can make pretty accurate shooting up to 200 yards. Mr Wilson 
writes: “ At the lowest estimate, at least a thousand stags are killed every 
year for their horns in velvet,” and this figure is probably far below the 
mark. 
It is depressingly true that under existing circumstances nothing can be 
done to put an end to this ceaseless and senseless slaughter. 
The usual method of hunting these animals adopted by the natives is to 
start before dawn and locate a stag by his roar. The hunters, usually four 
or five in number, return to the valley, indulge in a hearty meal, talk 
matters over and start out again in the afternoon. The ridges, extending 
from the main valley, are clothed on their northern slopes with forests of 
pine, larch, etc. To these the deer retreat during the daytime. The hunters 
post themselves round the particular patch of timber in which they think the 
stag they have seen is located and endeavour to stalk him as he emerges 
towards evening. Sometimes they attempt a drive. They also catch a few 
immature animals in native traps. Although their chief aim is to secure a 
stag with good horns, not for its beauty as a trophy — they care nothing for 
this — but for its value as translated into terms of pounds, shillings, and 
pence, they remorselessly slaughter any animal of whatever age or sex 
which comes within range of their long guns. 
The first stag I saw was wandering alone over the slopes of a huge corrie, 
down which I was returning after a fruitless attempt on the roe. He only 
had seven points and was evidently a young beast. The next animal I 
encountered was a nine-pointer. We had started out, up the snow-covered 
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