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In the event of a stampede, every animal of
the separate, yet consolidated, herds rushed off together, as if they had
all gone mad at once; for the
buffalo,
like the
Texas
steer, mule, or domestic
horse, stampedes on the slightest provocation;
frequently without any assignable cause. The simplest affair,
sometimes, will start the whole herd; a prairie-dog barking at the
entrance to his burrow, a shadow of one of themselves or that of a passing
cloud, is sufficient to make them run for miles as if a real and dangerous
enemy were at their heels.
Like an army, a herd of
buffaloes
put out vedettes to give the alarm in case anything beyond the ordinary
occurred. These sentinels were always to be seen in groups of four,
five, or even six, at some distance from the main body.
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Buffalo Stampede, 1917, by J.E.
Haynes, courtesy
Library of Congress.
This image available for
photographic prints and downloads
HERE!
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When they perceived something approaching
that the herd should beware of or get away from, they started on a run
directly for the centre of the great mass of their peacefully grazing
congeners. Meanwhile, the young bulls were on duty as sentinels on the
edge of the main herd watching the vedettes; the moment the latter
made for the centre, the former raised their heads, and in the
peculiar manner of their species gazed all around and sniffed the air
as if they could smell both the direction and source of the impending
danger. Should there be something which their instinct told them
to guard against, the leader took his position in front, the cows and
calves crowded in the centre, while the rest of the males gathered on
the flanks and in the rear, indicating
a gallantry that might be emulated at
times by the genus homo.
Generally
buffalo went to their drinking-places but once a day, and that
late in the afternoon. Then they ambled along, following each
other in single file, which accounts for the many trails on the
plains, always ending at some stream or
lake. They frequently traveled twenty or thirty miles for water,
so the trails leading to it were often worn to the depth of a foot or
more.
That curious depression so frequently seen
on the great plains, called a
buffalo-wallow, is caused in this wise: The huge animals paw and
lick the salty, alkaline earth, and when once the sod is broken the
loose dirt drifts away under the constant action of the wind. Then, year after year, through more pawing, licking, rolling, and
wallowing by the animals, the wind wafts more of the soil away, and
soon there is a considerable hole in the prairie.
Many an old trapper and hunter's life has
been saved by following a
buffalo-trail when he was suffering from thirst. The
buffalo-wallows retain usually a great quantity of water, and they
have often saved the lives of whole companies of cavalry, both men and
horses.
There was, however, a stranger and more
wonderful spectacle to be seen every recurring spring during the reign
of the
buffalo, soon after the grass had started. There were
circles trodden bare on the plains, thousands, yes, millions of them,
which the early travelers, who did not divine their cause, called
fairy-rings. From the first of April until the middle of May was the
wet season; you could depend upon its recurrence almost as certainly
as on the sun and moon rising at their proper time.
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This was also the calving period of the
buffalo,
as they, unlike our domestic cattle, only rutted during a single month;
consequently, the cows all calved during a certain time; this was the wet
month, and as there were a great many gray wolves that roamed singly and
in immense packs over the whole prairie region, the bulls, in their
regular beats, kept guard over the cows while in the act of parturition,
and drove the wolves away, walking in a ring around the females at a short
distance, and thus forming the curious circles.
In every herd at each recurring season there
were always ambitious young bulls that came to their majority, so to
speak, and these were ever ready to test their claims for the leadership,
so that it may
be safely stated that a month rarely passed
without a bloody battle between them for the supremacy; though, strangely
enough, the struggle scarcely ever resulted in the death of either
combatant.
Perhaps there is no animal in which maternal
love is so wonderfully developed as the
buffalo
cow; she is as dangerous with a calf by her side as a she-grizzly with
cubs, as all old mountaineers know.
The
buffalo
bull that has outlived his usefulness is one of the most pitiable objects
in the whole range of natural history. Old age has probably been
decided in the economy of
buffalo
life as the unpardonable sin. Abandoned to his fate, he may be
discovered, in his dreary isolation, near some stream or lake, where it
does not tax him too severely to find good grass; for he is now feeble,
and
exertion an impossibility. In this new
stage of his existence he seems to have completely lost his courage. Frightened at his own shadow, or the rustling of a leaf, he is the very
incarnation of
nervousness and suspicion. Gregarious in
his habits from birth, solitude, foreign to his whole nature, has changed
him into a new creature; and his inherent terror of the most trivial
things is intensified to such a degree that if a man were compelled to
undergo such constant alarm, it would probably drive him insane in less
than a week. Nobody ever saw one of these miserable and helplessly
forlorn creatures dying a natural death, or ever heard of such an
occurrence. The cowardly coyote and the gray wolf had already marked
him for their own; and they rarely missed their calculations.
Riding suddenly to the top of a divide once
with a party of friends in 1866, we saw standing below us in the valley an
old
buffalo bull, the very picture of despair. Surrounding him were
seven gray wolves
in the act of challenging him to mortal
combat. The poor beast, undoubtedly realizing the utter hopelessness
of his situation, had determined to die game. His great shaggy head,
filled with burrs,
was lowered to the ground as he confronted his
would-be executioners; his tongue, black and parched, lolled out of his
mouth, and he gave utterance at intervals to a suppressed roar.
The wolves were sitting on their haunches in a
semi-circle immediately in front of the tortured beast, and every time
that the fear-stricken
buffalo
would give vent to his hoarsely modulated groan, the wolves howled in
concert in most mournful cadence.
After contemplating his antagonists for a few
moments, the bull made a dash at the nearest wolf, tumbling him howling
over the silent prairie; but while this diversion was going on in front,
the remainder of the pack started for his hind legs, to hamstring him. Upon this the poor brute turned to the point of attack only to receive a
repetition of it in the same vulnerable place by the wolves, who had as
quickly turned also and fastened themselves on his heels again. His hind
quarters now streamed with blood and he began to show signs of great
physical weakness. He did not dare to lie down; that would have been
instantly fatal. By this time he had killed three of the wolves or
so maimed them that they were entirely out of the fight.
At this juncture the suffering animal was
mercifully shot, and the wolves allowed to batten on his thin and tough
carcass.
Continued
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