FOREST AND STREAM 
997 
in any one direction, so that it heralds the hunt¬ 
er’s coming from every quarter of the compass, 
calling for caution and patience, in particular, to 
assure success, is what makes the bighorn, in my 
humble opinion, the grandest game on the conti¬ 
nent. 
Leaving our cover we crawled up a nearby 
ravine, passing over a well-wo.rn trail used by 
both sheep and goat, and showing the fresh spoor 
of a cougar, until we reached the shallow head, 
several hundred feet above our starting point. 
Peeping over very gingerly, we examined the 
fairly level ground running along the base of the 
towering rocks. Disappointed at not finding any¬ 
thing there, I swung my head round to examine 
the ridges to my left and slightly below me and 
found my eyes resting on a ram. 
Not a moment was to be lost. Racing down 
the ridge, across the intervening bottom and up 
the next ridge, out of breath, we peeped over 
with our eyes on the very rim. There he stood 
on the next ridge broadside on, and with him 
several more ewes and lambs. He was the only 
ram in the band, at least, that I could see, so 
there was no choice. Watching my opportunity 
and allowing for 250 yards I fired. The shot 
struck near his fore feet; the second passed un¬ 
der him and the third caught him through the 
shoulder, sending him plunging over the ridge 
out of sight. But I knew patience had had its 
reward, for the sharp “smack” of the bullet told 
where it hit. 
On inspection his head proved to be below the 
average, which runs from 14% to 16% inches 
for the East Kootenay, though larger heads have 
been reported, but not having seen them I can¬ 
not vouch for the accuracy of the statement. In 
one sense I was disappointed, naturally, while in 
another I was not, as the oldest and finest rams 
are not with the ewes in September, though they 
may be close around. Therefore, the getting of 
this ram in the midst of a band of ewes was 
an exceptional piece of what may be called “hun¬ 
ter’s luck.” But this luck is the exception and 
not the rule, as many sportsmen have discovered 
when too late. 
For instance, last season two different parties 
hunted in the East Kootenay—one party over the 
same range as myself—-in September, and failed 
to see a single ram. 
About the middle of October a third party 
arrived and secured a very fine ram. 
Another gentleman writes in a well-known 
magazine on his failure to secure a ram in Sep¬ 
tember : “For eight days we fine-tooth combed 
the surrounding country and searched every 
mountain side and valley with our field glasses, 
but no use; the bighorns were not to be found.” 
I can quite believe it. Nevertheless, the rams 
were there, though the hunters did not—in all 
the above cases—see any. I can assure them that 
more than one band of rams saw them! 
Why? you ask. 
Because sheep, from a sex point of view, are 
not gregarious throughout the summer and early 
fall months. The oldest and finest rams are 
alone, higher up and further back in the daytime 
among the bare, ragged rocks from where they 
can lie securely and see you, but where it is 
most difficult for you to see them, and if you do, 
to approach within sporting rifle range. That is 
the reason why so many failures are recorded for 
September, coupled with the fact that the major¬ 
ity of guides are deficient in the knowledge and 
experience, through lack of interest and, there¬ 
fore, observation as to the nature and habits 
of sheep, where they are to be found in the open 
season, or how to stalk them when found. Now 
it is very obvious that if outside guides are em¬ 
ployed—as is very frequent—failure must follow. 
Hence, intending sportsmen should be careful to 
see that their guides are native to the territory 
they intend to hunt over. 
Carrying the skin, head and meat of the ram 
we reached camp about an hour before dark. 
Next morning we started back to our base 
camp, picking up the billy on the way, a short 
but very successful trip. 
Wake up, Friend Guide, the day is old; 
The stars have run to cover, lad. 
Dawn’s cheeks are pink, and, fold on fold 
The Morn unrolls her charm, b’gad. 
How can you nod, when, in the east 
Time glints the topmost of th’ hills? 
Let’s have our bit-o’-bacon feast, 
And rush th’ trout of yonder rills. 
(That desk in town fair makes me sick, 
When thoughts go blund’ring back to it. 
Too soon, th’ same old daily trick; 
And jobs one never likes a bit.) 
Wake up, Friend Guide, can’st whiff th’ air, 
’Tis perfumed with a dash of pine. 
The lungs drink deep a welcome share, 
As tho’ each gulp of it were wine. 
White gleams the tent against massed fir, 
Smoke weaves its faint web, spider-like, 
And, in the thicket, strange things stir, 
—Get going, for th’ love o.f Mike! 
(The desk in town—I see it now, 
Piled high with drab, disputed bills. 
And Jenks, accountant, shows me how 
To count th’ debit up in mills.) 
Wake up, Friend Guide, it’s time to skip— 
Skeedaddle—shoulder rod or gun ; 
The game will give Your Nibs th’ slip 
If we lag longer, from th’ fun. 
Oh, joy of this, great open world; 
Its vastness and its rugged might; 
And yonder, Dawn’s red flag unfurled, 
(Gosh ding it, how these chiggers bite!) 
(That desk in town—the anvil grim 
On which I pound out salary; 
Man bites th’ hand that’s fcedin’ him; 
So lay those molar marks to ME.) 
HANDY CALENDAR FOR SLEEPY CAMPERS 
A USEFUL TABLE WHICH GIVES THE HOUR OF SUNRISE 
THROUGH THE DIFFERENT MONTHS OF THE YEAR 
By C. E. Beyer. 
T HE man who thinks that he is going to beat 
Old Sol to the brookside has to do some 
tall hustling to get there before the Old 
Fellow. The Old Boy is used to getting out early 
and doesn’t need an alarm-clock to wake him a 
few hours before the necessary time. But the 
fellow who wants to leave town early, get all 
the sleep he can and yet be early enough to get 
the early feeders must needs have some kind of 
an alarm, even then he is going it in the dark 
and has no idea as to when Old Sol is going to 
be on the job. Sure he forgot to look at the 
paper; other fellow ought to have done it too; 
the result—too dark to fish. Why not have a 
handy time-table of the dates when the sunrises? 
Evidently this was a momentous question with 
our old friend, Thomas Best, of Tottenham Hale 
—“excellent reception for anglers at Brother 
Patrick’s in that village”—for, being in the habit 
of visiting the grounds early he hit upon the 
scheme of making a table of sun-rises. With 
this as a first aid you can bet that Thomas was 
right there with the rod; he was there first and 
had time to find all the good spots on the Thames, 
Lea and other rivers, even though he had to walk 
most of the way—and the roads were long and 
weary in those days. 
In the eighth edition of Best’s “Concise Trea¬ 
tise of the Art of Angling, 1808,” in which he 
states: “I have been careful to avoid all new¬ 
fangled rules,” we have the table. Although I 
have taken the rules regarding the method of 
use of the table, the times have been changed to 
that of the present time and will no doubt be 
found useful to some brother angler who wants 
to get out early and try them before breakfast. 
Table of the 
Sun- 
■RISES FOR 
Every Third Day 
OF the 
Year. 
Day 
2 
S 
8 
11 
14 
17 
20 
23 
26 
29 
January . 
• • 7-24 
7.24 
7.24 
7.24 
7-23 
7.22 
7.20 
7.17 
7-15 
7-13 
February .... 
. . 7.10 
7.06 
703 
7-00 
6.56 
6-53 
6.48 
6.44 
6-39 
6.35 
March . 
.. 6.32 
6.28 
6.24 
6.l8 
6.13 
6.09 
6.03 
6.00 
5-54 
5-50 
April . 
• • 5-44 
5.38 
5-33 
5.28 
5-24 
5-19 
5-14 
5.10 
5.06 
5-02 
May . 
• • 4-57 
4-53 
4-50 
4-57 
4-44 
4.42 
4-39 
4-37 
4-35 
4-33 
June . 
• • 4-31 
4-30 
4.28 
4.28 
4.28 
4.28 
4.28 
4.29 
4-30 
4-31 
July . 
• • 4-32 
4-35 
4-37 
4-39 
4.41 
4-44 
4.46 
4-49 
4-52 
4-54 
August . 
• • 4-57 
5.00 
5-03 
S-o6 
5-09 
5-12 
5-15 
5-18 
5-21 
5-24 
September ... 
.. 5.28 
5-3i 
5-34 
5-37 
5-40 
5-43 
5-45 
5-48 
5-5i 
5-54 
October . 
• • 5-41 
6.01 
6.04 
6.07 
6.10 
6.13 
6.17 
6.20 
6.23 
6.26 
November . .. 
.. 6.31 
6.35 
6.40 
6.44 
6.48 
6.51 
6-54 
6-59 
7.02 
7-05 
December ... 
.. 7.06 
7.09 
7.12 
7-i5 
7.18 
7.19 
7.20 
7.21 
7.22 
7-23 
“To know the sun’s setting you need only sub¬ 
tract the rising from 12. For instance: The 
sun rises Jan. 2 at 7.24, which subtracted from 
12 gives four hours and sixteen minutes, which 
is the time of the sunset—or 4.16. To find the 
length of the day double the setting; for the 
length of the night, double the rising.” Try it—• 
on yourself and on the fellow pictured above. 
