THE MOUNTAIN SHEEP 
Alaska, I have heard men say that the white sheep were as tame as caribou, 
and that is saying a good deal. In making this comparison, I am well aware 
of the fact that in certain parts of Alaska, where sheep have been hunted, 
though only spasmodically, by both white and red men, they are by no 
means easy to kill. We have only to read the best book on sheep, namely, 
“ The Wilderness of the Upper Yukon,” by Charles Sheldon, to realize how 
hard he must have worked to have obtained some of his fine trophies. 
It does not do to dogmatize and assert that because sheep happen to be 
tame in one place they will be so in another. All sorts of local conditions, 
with regard to winds, food supply and the shape of the mountains them- 
selves, have to be taken into consideration; and I merely wish to speak in 
a broad sense when I say that all animals become easier to capture as we 
approach the Arctic regions. 
It is interesting to watch a herd of wild sheep in their natural home. 
There seems to be no specially appointed sentry, though one and all will at 
times carefully survey the landscape both up and down hill. Deer seldom 
look up hill unless they hear something, but sheep and goats and one or 
two of the African antelopes, such as Chanler’s reedbuck and the klip- 
springer, will watch as much above them as below. This, of course, makes 
the stalking of them far more difficult from the hunter’s point of view. 
On observing a flock of wild northern sheep almost the first thing that 
strikes the observer is the rich amber tint of the horns of the rams. In 
winter these are almost a warm yellow brown and have a certain trans- 
parent appearance. Whilst constantly on the alert, sheep have a very definite 
reasoning power in judging sounds and their causes. Rock or snow falls, 
however loud, are regarded with indifference, but let the hunter dislodge 
even a pebble or two, flush a ptarmigan or carelessly crunch the small 
stones beneath the feet, and the flock are on the alert at once and will 
probably run. Mr Sheldon (“ The Wilderness of the Upper Yukon,” p. 238) 
well illustrates this in describing a stalk. 
44 While I was watching them, well concealed behind some low rocks, 
a large mass of rock broke away from the top of the mountain behind 
them, and thundering down the slope, landed about fifty yards to their 
right. During the crashing descent I observed them closely. They 
remained absolutely indifferent to the small avalanche, only one of 
them turning his head in that direction. Three single rocks fell at 
later intervals, but they took no notice of them. After awhile, in 
seeking a different position so that I could better hold my glasses, 
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