Catching Buffalo Calves 
In Two Parts—II. 
A Spring Ski Trip in Yellowstone Park—The 
Only Wild Buffalo in the United States 
By PETER HOLT 
W E passed through the heavy timber that 
skirts the north shore of the Yellowstone 
Lake between its outlet and Mary’s Bay, 
then across a large sage brush flat, through a low 
pass to a point on the west edge of and overlook¬ 
ing Pelican Valley. This valley is about four miles 
in length by one and a half in width. It is sur¬ 
rounded by pine clad hills, rising from 200 to 
600 feet above the valley. Pelican creek flows 
through its center and is a good sized stream. 
With the assistance of field glasses we made 
out several black objects partly hidden in the 
snow. They were on the east or opposite side 
of the valley from us. Two of the objects 
worked into view and proved to be the buffalo 
for which we were looking. Quickly and quietly 
we dropped into the valley and headed straight 
for the cabin on Astringent Creek. 
It was a bright, clear day—one only to be seen 
in the Rockies—when the air is so fresh and 
bracing as to be almost intoxicating. We travel¬ 
ed along at a good rate. The scraping, rasping 
sound of the toboggan and our skis on the crust 
made a sort of rhythmical music that produced 
the effect of tireless motion like the unmusical 
tom-tom that seems to give the Indian strength 
to continue for hours under a terrific physical 
strain. We would swing along for hours to the 
switch-switch-switch of the skis on crust with¬ 
out fatigue until we arrived at our destination, 
when the strain of the day’s journey would come 
all at once and we would feel dead tired. 
We found the cabin so completely covered with 
snow that only a small elevation revealed its 
location. One man succeeded after considerable 
trouble in working his way down to the door and 
getting in. He then handed us up a shovel with 
which the snow was shoveled away from the 
door and roof. For the rest of the day we were 
busy cleaning and airing the dark, damp, un¬ 
healthy cabin. The water in Astringent Creek 
could not be used for drinking and cooking pur¬ 
poses, owing to the many hot and muddy mineral 
springs along its whole course. All the water 
used must be melted from snow, a slow and un¬ 
satisfactory process, for although we continually 
had our melting pot on the stove, we were al¬ 
ways short of drinking water. 
In the evening of the day of our arrival we 
climbed a hill overlooking the valley and saw 
the buffalo in the place where we had first seen 
them with their heads down, nosing around in 
the deep snow. I have watched them for long 
periods with strong field glasses while thus feed¬ 
ing, but I have never seen them paw the snow 
away as an elk or deer will do in order to get 
at the grass. They appear to use their head and 
nose entirely in removing the snow. 
That the buffalo cannot increase, but are 
doomed to extermination in the park can be 
readily understood by anyone visiting them in 
their winter habitat. Struggling in unbelievable 
depths of snow for the scant and little nourish¬ 
ing grass which they find when they finally reach 
the ground, or staying for days on some wind¬ 
swept hillside, bleak and so bare that it would 
not furnish a day’s nourishment for a goat, then 
plunging through immense drifts of snow where 
they disappear at every plunge to some other 
hill, exposed to the bitter penetrating winds, 
where the snow had been swept off, to find the 
same stony, barren ground. This condition be¬ 
comes still more desperate in the spring when a 
strong crust forms on the snow. They will then 
travel for miles on top of the crust from one 
warm formation to another. 
East of the Grand Canon of the Yellowstone 
and north of Pelican Valley are many square 
miles of hot springs and warm ground. The hot 
springs in this region are mostly muddy and 
carry a tinge of red or green deposit, perhaps 
caused by the hot water passing over or through 
iron or copper ores on its way to the surface. 
A large part of this region contains no hot 
springs, only steam vents,, from which the hiss¬ 
ing of escaping steam can be heard for a con¬ 
siderable distance. No vegetation grows in these 
places. The ground has a white, chalky appear¬ 
ance, is usually cracked and furrowed and pre¬ 
sents a scene of desolation. In the winter these 
bare places form a great contrast to the vast 
areas of deep snow that surround them. 
On one of these warm formations in a nar¬ 
row valley between two high wooded hills we 
found the carcasses of four buffalo at one’ time. 
They had been forced by the deep snow out upon 
this hare and barren piece of ground, and here 
they had starved to death, the hissing of escap¬ 
ing steam sounding a weird requiem to their 
tragic end. 
On the 10th, leaving Minor at the cabin, I 
made a careful search of the valley, following 
around it in the edge of the timber. We found 
the buffalo in the heavy timber south of the flat. 
Working carefully to the leeward of them and 
keeping well concealed in the timber, we crawled 
quite close. There were fourteen grown ones 
and two calves, little red fellows, looking for 
all the world like Jersey calves. At their age 
there is np sign of the hump so conspicuous later 
in life. 
Although we were well concealed and the wind 
was blowing from them to us, they became un¬ 
easy, looking and moving around, and finally 
started out of the timber in single file and began 
running across the valley. Jones thought this 
would be a good time to try to catch the calves, 
but we had only gone a.short distance when we 
had to give it up. It was a warm day, and the 
snow was slushy, sticking to our skis so that 
they would not slide. It offered little resistance, 
however, to the buffalo, and they went through 
it at race horse speed. We learned here the les¬ 
son that if we were to succeed everything must 
be favorable to us and unfavorable to the buf¬ 
falo. A crust of snow would be an ideal con¬ 
dition for us. Our skis would then slide easily 
and swiftly, while the buffalo would be greatly 
handicapped, for at this time of the year the 
crust would not be apt to freeze hard enough 
to support them. 
That night our plans were made, based on a 
thorough knowledge of the habits of the buffalo, 
gained by several winters’ observation of them. 
Where would they attempt to leave the valley 
when frightened, and if prevented from leaving 
at that place, where would their next attempt 
be made? We could make speed only while go¬ 
ing down hill; to catch them on the level was 
out of the question. Also the calves must be 
gotten out of the herd. 
We hoped to accomplish this by giving the 
herd about a mile of stiff running. We knew 
the calves would stay behind in the broken trail, 
and by the time they had traveled a mile in the 
deep snow, there would no doubt be a consider¬ 
able distance between them and the herd. To 
meet all these conditions we arranged to take 
up stations at points we knew would be along the 
course taken by the buffalo in their attempt to 
leave the valley. 
Jones was to be stationed next the mouth of 
Pelican Creek, I on a high hill just east of As¬ 
tringent Creek and Morrison half way between 
us. The distance between Jones and myself was 
about one and a half miles, our line extending 
along the north side of the valley. When not 
grazing the buffalo stayed in the timber on the 
south side, so this would give them about a mile 
run before reaching us. We had cut gunny 
