THE WAPITI 
grow their horns at the same rate as red deer, and these ornaments are 
usually complete and rubbed clean about September 10. At first, when the 
velvet is stripped off they are pure white, but soon become chestnut brown 
and are always much paler than red deer antlers. In rare instances, 
especially amongst the Manitoba wapiti, I have seen individual heads 
nearly as dark as those of continental red deer, but not so black as Scottish 
and a few Carpathian examples. 
About the middle of September the wapiti male is in his best condition 
and is then very alert and difficult to hunt. He feeds slowly, wandering 
through the forest, and frequently stops to listen even when enjoying his 
varied meal off the leaves of shrubs and ground plants which form his 
staple food. It takes more than usual cunning and quietness, backed by 
luck and no eddying winds, to find a bull wapiti at this season and obtain 
a shot. All their senses seem to be attuned to the possibility of danger 
just before the rut takes place, and this is the time at which wapiti hunting 
is really most interesting and difficult. After the bull has once collected 
his harem he seems to think of nothing else but love, and leaves all such 
things as sentinel duty to his wives. These fair ladies are often excellent 
watchers and as often utter fools. If you follow a band of wapiti you are 
struck with the extraordinary care they exercise in avoiding the possi- 
bility of pursuit by man. They move fast over straight and unbroken 
forest areas where the wind is in their faces and will give a fair advance 
to any hunter following them. He may be concealed and get close to them 
so they hurry up. In crossing open parks they simply dawdle and keep a 
sharp watch on their back tracks below and in front. In such places they 
know it is difficult to approach them, but they only halt and remain long 
in hollows and angles of mountains, where they know that the varying air 
currents that always swirl round to their delicate noses are sure to bring 
the taint of man from whichever direction he chooses to advance. The 
hunter, however, goes plodding on, and some day the wind suddenly drops 
or rises in such a way as to carry his scent out of danger. Perhaps he is 
extra careful and his rubber soled boots have for once made no sound. 
He rounds a corner and is face to face with the herd of cows and their 
attendant master. Then it is that wapiti often behave like utter idiots. 
They think that they have done everything possible to ensure safety, and 
now when man has beaten them they turn their heads and stare foolishly 
at him. A white-tail would give one graceful leap and vanish behind a 
tree, or give you the notion that he intended to stop and have a gaze and 
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