Aug. 25, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
291 
Wild Oxen. 
I read in one of the May issues of Forest and 
Stream of a dog that joined a band of wolves 
and became as savage and fleet of foot as the 
best of them, and brought to my mind a cir¬ 
cumstance that came under my own observation, 
of a pair of steers that threw off all trammels of 
restraint and took to the bush. 
I think it is worth recording, for it shows that 
even horned cattle brought up with care, and 
fed at regular intervals can support themselves, 
even through the rigor of a northern winter in 
the wild bush country. 
In my early days on the Labrador we were 
in the habit of getting our winter beef on the 
hoof from the villages on the south shore. The 
cattle were sent over by schooner, late in the 
fall, and stall-fed until the cold weather set in, 
when they were killed and the carcasses hung 
up to freeze. As we had no wharf accommo¬ 
dation, the cattle were unloaded in a primitive 
and unceremonious way. The schooner an¬ 
chored two or three hundred yards from the 
shore. The cattle sided up alongside the rail 
next the beach, and a couple of sailors intro¬ 
duced hand-spikes under the animal’s body, the 
end engaging the top of the rail. At the word 
“Go” the beasts were hurled sideways into the 
water. Rising to the surface, after the plunge,, 
they naturally struck out for the shore, where 
we had men with short ropes ready to secure 
them and lead them away to the stable. 
On the occasion upon which I write we had 
a consignment of five three-year-old steers, the 
meat of which, augmented by the usual game of 
the country, was considered sufficient for the 
post’s use during the following winter. 
Two of the bunch reached footing in such a 
lively state that they baffled the combined efforts 
of our men to capture them, and with a few de¬ 
fiant snorts and bounds, they reached the primi¬ 
tive forest and were lost to view. 
As soon as I realized that there was a possi¬ 
bility of the animals being lost to us, I turned 
out all the “hangers on” about the post, with 
our own men in hot pursuit. Night coming on 
shortly after, the hunt was given up. only to be 
resumed with greater energy the following day; 
but the nature of the ground being hard, hoof 
marks were indistinguishable, and to use dogs 
would only make the cattle wilder. Once more 
the men had to reluctantly abandon the search 
and return to the post, and although we kept 
up the hunt for several days more, we failed to 
locate the missing “meat.” 
In due course of time, snow covered the 
ground, and men circled the bush in the vicinity 
of the post without any results, and we had un¬ 
willingly to place the two steers on our profit 
and loss account. 
Time went on, the winter passed, and the 
summer also, and none of the visiting Indians 
reported any signs of the cattle. 
The following winter, in February, a party of 
hunters came in from the headwaters of the 
Moisie River, 150 miles north of us, and they 
reported having killed our cattle among a small 
herd of wood caribou. To prove their story 
they produced the horns which they had brought 
down all those miles on their toboggans as 
visible proof. 
The report they gave me was as follows: 
They had come across the tracks of this small 
bunch of caribou (five) with which the oxen 
were living in consort, sometime in early De¬ 
cember. The animals winded them and the 
hunters failed to sight the herd. 
As the snow was yet shallow, they left them 
unmolested until after the New Year, when the 
men from the nearby camps organized a hunt 
expressly to run them down. 
From hearsay they thought the strange tracks 
were those of moose, and were very much sur¬ 
prised when the herd was sighted to find they 
were horned cattle, and at once concluded (and 
very correctly) that they were the long lost 
cattle. 
The chief informed me they were so fleet.of 
foot that the five deer were come up with and 
killed before they overtook the steers, which 
were rolling fat, sleek of coat and had an under 
growth of wool such as the deer had, showing 
that under different circumstances nature had 
given them this protection against the severity 
of the climate. 
I hardly think I would have credited their 
story with the proof, and further, the next sum¬ 
mer, when they came in to trade on the coast, 
they brought me a piece of the thigh skin of 
each animal. Verily these oxen had a call from 
the wild and took it and became as one with 
the denizens of the bush. 
Reading of the dog that fraternized and went 
off with the wolves brought this to my mind 
after a lapse of forty-one years. 
Martin Hunter. 
The Colorado Museum. 
Denver, Colo.— Editor Forest and Stream: As 
a news stand buyer and reader of Forest and 
Stream for a good many years, I thought the in¬ 
closed would interest you. The natural history 
collection which a few of Denver’s rich men 
are placing in such a fine home, will be an ad¬ 
ditional attraction in this attractive city. 
A. Allison. 
Mr. Allison sends this account of the new 
Colorado museum from the Denver Post: 
On the crest of the hill surrounded by the wooded 
slopes of City park, there is a great unfinished 
building. An air of immensity pervades the 
place. The building of this structure is the first 
step in the establishment of the great Colorado 
Museum of Natural History. Within its walls 
YOUNG 
Photo taken on North Shore of Lake 
are contained in endless confusion mounted speci¬ 
mens that cannot be duplicated anywhere in the 
world. There too, are examples of the taxider¬ 
mist’s art that are priceless in value. From the 
standpoint of the collector they are treasures that 
can never be replaced. 
A wonderful place is this museum, that will 
not be opened to the public for years, so im¬ 
mense is the project undertaken by the people 
of Denver. 
A side door allows the visitor to enter the 
great building. Down a narrow flight of stairs 
he wends his way into the basement. The light 
from the unfinished windows floods the rooms, 
bringing from, their shadowy corners hundreds 
of shapeless things that leer and nod in terrifying 
portent. 
Arctic foxes are playing in a huge snow bank, 
so busy that they fail to note the presence of 
visitors. A dozen ducks, perched quaintly on 
shelves, converse together in low throaty tones. 
Hanging from the ceiling there are many skele¬ 
tons, for these are taken from the animals and 
mounted separately. Lying stiffly on the tables 
are the papier mache forms used in the mounting 
of the finished animals. In one corner there is 
a pile of three or four packing boxes, and these 
contain enough skins to keep two men busy for 
five years, working seven days a week. In those 
several boxes there is material for more mounted 
specimens than there are now in the museum. 
The main floor of the huge building resembles 
the meeting place of the animals of the world. 
Graceful flamingoes are gingerly treading their 
way through a spread of swamp land; a giant 
ox holds his head high in the air as he listens 
for the danger signal, and the snow at his feet 
shows where he has been digging for moss; pure 
white mountain sheep are swarming over a pre¬ 
cipitous mountain side, while a herd of antelope 
is busy at the drinking place. 
Great buffalo can be seen standing or lying 
at rest, and with them are giant moose and 
GULLS. 
Superior, near Gros Cap, by F. F. Frisbie. 
