Forest and Stream 
Six Months, $1.50. 
$3 a Year, 10 Cts. a Copy. 
NEW YORK, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1913. 
VOL. LXXXI.—No. la 
12T Franklin St., New York. 
Wild Horses in Northern Utah 
By WALTER K. BARTON 
T HE picture shown was taken while a band 
of wild horses were rapidly making tracks 
toward the deep canons which border 
Green River. The camera man lay concealed 
in the sand near a water hole, protected from 
sight by a pile of sage brush. The distance was 
sixty yards, and the time, sunset of a clear, still 
September day. A current of air, so slight as 
to be imperceptible, save to the wild ones, car¬ 
ried warning to the gray stallion at their head. 
Not a sound had broken the stillness of the 
desert as they approached. In single file—five 
of them—they had been within clear view for 
more than a mile. When within short distance 
the leader suddenly stopped, put his nose up in 
the air, gave a suspicious sniff, and then, wheel¬ 
ing sharply about, raced away at top speed, fol¬ 
lowed closely by the others. Quick as they were, 
however, they could not escape the crack of the 
little camera. They were caught in full action, 
with muscles tense, tails streaming in the air, in 
hot flight from the unknown enemy—a sight to 
stir even the blood of the Red Gods. 
Time and again the writer had vainly tried 
for a snapshot, by crawling up under cover as 
they were grazing. Advantage was taken of 
every bush and stone, but each time they either 
scented, heard or saw something suspicious, and 
were off before he could get near enough. Some¬ 
times, after running a few hundred yards, they 
would slow down and perhaps stop and look 
back for some moments, as if in doubt what 
danger threatened them. Their suspicions were 
never overcome, however. They took no chances, 
but would always continue their flight. 
From close observation of their habits it was 
learned that Desert Spring, a little pond fed by 
a cold spring, was one of their favorite water 
places. Their tracks were all about it, and it 
was difficult to see from which side they were 
likely to approach within picture-making distance 
—that is, if they came at all. Green River was 
only a few miles away, and formed the eastern 
border of their range. They frequently went 
to it for water, but not to the same place. All 
things considered. Desert Spring offered the best 
chance of obtaining the desired snapshot. 
Even at Desert Spring three attempts on 
as many days failed. Always it was too dark 
when they came, and once they did not come at 
all. On the fourth day, however, after many 
hours of waiting, luck turned. The shadows of 
the late afternoon were lengthening when the 
little band was seen filing down into the desert 
from behind a line of mud buttes a mile or 
more away. As usual, the gray stallion was in 
the lead. They came steadily on to a rise in 
the ground some 200 yards away. There they 
stopped and carefully looked things over. Shy 
though they were, there was nothing within 
sight to frighten them. Snugly tucked away in 
the sand hole, the writer was careful to make 
no motion; in fact, hardly breathed. A bunch 
of mallards sailed placidly on the little pond. 
At the further edge a blue heron meditatively 
balanced on one leg. In the distance the high 
peaks of the Uintahs outlined a deep blue 
against the golden sky. Nearer by mud and 
sar.d stone buttes rose in curious and fantastic 
shapes from the flat sand plains, and gave vary¬ 
ing shades of yellow, gray and red to the color 
scheme. Peace and quiet reigned. Certainly the 
great open desert, with here and there bits of 
purple sage or yellow greasewocd, could conceal 
no enemy. A long look about quieted the gray 
stallion and the suspicious band. The water of 
the little pond looked cool and tempting after 
the hot sand trail. He decided to chance it, and 
yet he hesitated. After all there was something 
WILD HORSES IN ACTION. 
Photograph by the Author. 
