Edgar Fritz Randolph

When I wrote to my old guide Edward Sheffield, I was somewhat apprehensive about the outlook for sport, because I had heard that the best part of the Jackson Hole Country had been included in the reserve set apart by the State of Wyoming, where sport with big game had been entirely interdicted.

I was advised, however, that this was not the fact, and pinning my faith to the good judgment of the guide, I made arrangements for a fall hunt. Before reaching the terminal of the railroad journey I chanced to meet some sportsmen who discussed the sport and commented on the conditions existing in Jackson’s Hole. The criticisms were by no means favorable, and various instances were cited of parties who had been disappointed in their expectations. My subsequent experience only served to convince me how dependent a sportsman has become upon the services of a good guide.

The trip from St. Anthony to Jackson was without incident worth relating, except at the start. The pack horses, which, during their stay in town, had fared handsomely on oats and hay and been well sheltered, did not look forward to a trip back into the bleak and sterile mountains with the same pleasure that I did; their refractory souls yearned for the comfortable quarters they were just leaving with the same tenacity that the children of Israel in the wilderness “longed for the fleshpots of Egypt,” but here the comparison ends, for they had not a guide who was meek and gentle like Moses.

About a mile from St. Anthony the whole bunch turned off on a side road and went back to their former quarters. After some delay they were finally got in line again, and with the aid of a couple of Mormons, who, for a consideration, agreed to help them for several miles, we got the pack train properly started, and after that had no further trouble with them.

GUIDE EDWARD SHEFFIELD AND TWO ELK HEADS.

The journey was a fairly long one, but it became more interesting as we drew away from civilization and got closer to the place where we intended to make permanent camp. After the first day we passed the wide monotonous stretch of sage brush flats which lies between St. Anthony and Victor; after that the landscape grew more mountainous and wooded. The country became very picturesque as we proceeded; every mountain presented a view which was a panorama; every opening in the timber seemed a natural frame for an entrancing picture; the atmosphere so clear and bracing gave fine definition to objects in view; the winding river rushed fretting and foaming between the rocks in the valley below; large clumps of spruces clustered upon the mountain sides, and the rough crags were powdered with snow and sometimes glistening with rills which coursed down their rugged surfaces. After traveling along the Gros Ventre River for a considerable distance we at last came in view of Mt. Leidy, superbly situated between two rows of mountains on either side of a pleasant valley, at the head of which that peak stands. The ground was covered with a few inches of snow—enough to make good hunting. We made an early camp and had plenty of time to get everything arranged before it became dark. The location was ideal; plenty of timber nearby; a fine stream of clear, cold water, and good grazing for the horses. It was quite important to have a good range for the stock, because there were eleven pack horses and three riding horses—fourteen in all. To take care of these required the services of a horse wrangler. I had three men, my regular guide, Edward Sheffield; Charles Herdick, a Wyoming guide, and Marcus Imo, who cooked and turned his hand to anything else that had to be attended to.

The day being young when we arrived, I employed it in making a short hunting scout. Charles Herdick went with me, and I soon discovered how much my wind had deteriorated since I had last been out, for in the meantime I had lived a life of comparative ease. The general elevation in this section ranges from 7,000 to 10,000 feet, and it takes a few days to accustom your lungs to the rarified atmosphere. When one is not taking any vigorous exercise the climate feels exhilarating and inspires one with the belief that he is able to perform any kind of feat; a few minutes of real strenuous exercise and this delusion is destroyed. I soon discovered that Herdick was a good hand at mountain climbing, being wonderfully supple and possessed of the best pair of lungs of anyone I ever knew.

We finally caught sight of a small bunch of elk at a considerable distance. As they were moving over a crest of a hill it became necessary to travel with speed to get near enough for a shot, if by chance there should be a good head in the bunch. The elk had not seen us, but were moving and might get out of range. Completely exhausted I finally gained the summit of a hill overlooking the herd, which had halted. An old bull stood in the quaking aspens, not over sixty yards away. A glance at the head, and I saw that I had had my pains for nothing. I watched the animals for a few moments, and they seemed to me like old acquaintances, for it had been three years since I last hunted this kind of game. I do not believe they were as pleased to see me as I was to see them. They soon started to run directly from us in the direction of camp, which was quite near. My guide, Edward Sheffield, told me afterward that they came very near, and he was afraid they would run through camp. He gravely warned me against the danger of driving a large bunch of “Uncle Sam’s cattle” in that direction.

It was a pleasure after this little excitement to drop into a comfortable camp and find everything nicely arranged and a good meal provided. My quarters were supplied with every convenience that could be expected by one who travels with a pack outfit. It may, perhaps, interest those who have had no practical experience in Western hunting to know what can be furnished. We had folding chairs, a folding table, two tents, and in each a portable sheet-iron stove with a couple of lengths of pipe to take off the smoke. I had a pneumatic mattress to save my tired flesh from the hard ground, and whatever else was required which horses could pack in. When I was tired of hunting I could rest a day or so and read novels in a comfortable tent, no matter how cold the weather. This does not seem like roughing it. The frontiersman of former days would have thought such comfort with a hunting outfit impossible. Modern progress, however, has caused most of the inconveniences of camp life to disappear as if by magic. Would that its magic influence could restock the wilderness with the great herds of wild animals that have vanished.

The following day I went out with the guide to try my luck. We had not traveled more than two miles before discovering a small herd of elk. We circled around them sufficiently to size them up, but could find no heads worth picking out. Our course was then changed, and we hunted toward a high mountain north of Mt. Leidy. From this point we obtained a fine view of the surrounding country, which I carefully swept with my Seitz glasses in quest of game. Far off on a distant ridge we finally saw some elk slowly moving out of the timber into the open. Their brown shapes showed very distinctly against the snow-covered hills, but, although there was a considerable number in view, no good antlers were visible. My strong glasses proved of very great service to me. With them I could ascertain plainly what otherwise I would have had to guess at, and they saved me many a long excursion over rough country to determine the value of a set of antlers. My guide was quite as anxious as myself that I should not have any trophies unworthy of a sportsman’s ambition. The law allows one only two heads, and it is necessary to take great pains to avoid making mistakes. I made up my mind that I would go back empty-handed rather than pack out antlers which would reflect discredit upon my skill. The guide was particularly anxious that I should obtain specimens which would do no injury to his reputation. I think I must have passed unfavorable judgment upon twenty-five or thirty heads—for which the guide was mainly responsible—before I finally secured my trophies. Any number of bulls presented themselves, some of them quite easy marks, only to be snubbed and turned down. Paris, in passing judgment upon the goddesses to determine which was the most beautiful, could not have been more critical or discriminating than the guide. I doubt if the unsuccessful rivals of the bulls I finally chose as worthy specimens were seriously disappointed.

To illustrate the ease with which I could have secured my legal allowance of two bulls, to say nothing of cows, I will cite a few instances of the opportunities I had. On one occasion I was going through the timber where I heard a number of elk. The guide called my attention to a bull lying on the ground not sixty yards away, partly concealed by the spruce brush. He was facing directly toward us, his front feet folded under his body and his nose close to the ground. We stood quite still and surveyed him carefully, sizing up the head, which had twelve points, but not large nor heavy at the base. The glasses were brought into service to make a more critical examination. A couple of minutes we stood discussing him, when finally he gave a brief snort, which sounded like an expression of disgust at our impertinence, and then jumped up and loped out of sight.

Shortly afterward we managed to approach close to a very large herd of elk, mostly hidden in the timber. From our concealment we could see a number of the animals not over thirty or forty yards away. About 150 yards off were a couple of young bulls exercising their skill by fencing with their antlers, evidently in sport. We could hear the frequent clash of the horns and often got a good view of the contestants. We waited in this spot over an hour, until despairing of seeing anything worth shooting at before it grew too dark, we suddenly rose up in plain view. The peaceful scene was soon converted into one of great confusion. For a moment the elk stared at us with their beautiful large brown eyes in astonishment, then a general panic communicated itself to the herd, and every animal in sight began moving off. Each clump of vegetation that could conceal a form seemed suddenly animated by a creature breaking from its hiding place, fleeing for safety; the cows and calves gave vent to their peculiar bleat of alarm, while the bulls snorted and rattled their antlers against the trees in their haste. For some hundred yards in the timber, and well up on the mountain side, the scene became particularly animated. I hurried to an opening in the timber, where I could get a good view of the retreating herd, which had drawn together into quite a solid moving mass. The number of elk greatly exceeded my expectations. Nine-tenths of the herd had been as carefully concealed from us as we had been from them. There must have been at a conservative estimate not less than 400 in the herd, and possibly 500. A sportsman could only admire this striking and beautiful spectacle because there was no head worth securing. A tooth hunter or a butcher, with a high-power repeating rifle, could have repeated one of those scenes which sickens every lover of sport.

At another time I came upon a band of elk quite as numerous, and, although there were a couple of good heads in view, yet the number of cow elk was so great that it was practically impossible to get a good shot. The entire mass fled straight up the side of a steep mountain covered with quaking aspen and spruce. For some time we could see them crowding one another in dense masses in their ascent, but the only shot attempted was with the camera, and without success.

One more instance, which will not only aid in proving the ease of securing an indifferent specimen, but goes to show that when game is too plentiful it is an actual handicap to the sportsman. I saw a fine head across a gulch at a considerable distance. I fired and missed it and the animal escaped beyond range. I crossed the gulch to examine the spot where the bull had stood and followed his tracks to see if he had been wounded, and if so, how badly. Although the ground was covered with two feet of snow, yet I could discover no signs of blood. While discussing the matter with the guide we became conscious that we were not unperceived, for a great number of elk began to move among the trees, having evidently “spotted” us. We made at once for concealment and ran as fast as we could through the deep snow to an open place toward which the herd was heading.

Carefully hidden from view we saw a great brown mass thunder past, and before it had disappeared from sight I caught a glimpse of the precious set of antlers belonging to the bull I shot at carried in triumph out of sight. They appeared but for a moment in the narrow opening, in which the intended victim was well protected by cows, which formed a perfect wall of flesh which no bullet could pierce and speed on to its mark. We made another run under concealment in the hope of being able to come upon the herd again in case it should halt, which it did. In an open space on the further side of the mountain we confronted the elk at close quarters. The rapid traveling in the deep snow over rough country left me very much exhausted. The first object that attracted the attention of the guide and myself was a large bull of twelve points at very close range. I thought in the hurry of the moment, my vision perhaps being blurred by nervous strain and exhaustion, that it was the same magnificent specimen I had shot at before and was trying to secure, and the animal’s position—turned quartering toward me—aided the deception. I soon discovered the mistake, however, my attention being called by the guide to another bull which proved to be the one I so earnestly desired. I brought my rifle in position to draw a bead on a vital spot, but the bull was immediately blanketed by several cows running between. If I could have had a clear range the shot would have been about the easiest I ever had, but the faithful cows with their calves swarmed around their lord, and I beheld with disappointment as fine a pair of antlers as I ever saw borne safely out of sight. The old bull must have evidently believed that “there is safety in numbers.”

There is another disadvantage in encountering a great quantity of game when attempting to secure a good trophy. Each animal, however poor a head it may possess, has generally a good pair of eyes, a keen scent and excellent hearing. Each addition to a herd is another sentinel, always on duty and ready at any moment to sound the alarm. On a previous hunting trip, when the elk were not nearly so plentiful, I got the heads I wanted in less time. I cannot place the blame for the trouble I had in securing my heads on the cows entirely.

A couple of days before the scarlet letter day of my hunt I fired at a fine bull in a gulch quite a distance off. He immediately quickened his pace and was soon out of range. I glanced at my rifle and I found that the elevation of the sight had been misplaced, being ranged for fifty yards. I think it is best to have the sight of a high power gun with a very flat trajectory sighted for 100 yards, and to draw a fine or coarse sight on the object as occasion may require. We examined the spot where the bull had been seen when fired at and discovered a sprinkling of blood along his tracks. Tying the horses, we started to follow the trail on foot. The course the bull took favored the higher elevations more than the depressions, which was a bad sign, so with grave misgivings we continued the pursuit. The increasing signs of blood inspired us with hope; here and there he occasionally stood, as was evident from the quantity of blood and the character of the impression his feet made in the snow. In other respects the signs were disappointing; the tracks showed no indication of weakness, and frequently led us across high fallen trees and along steep places, where I followed with difficulty. The blood, although quite plentiful, was a light red, and not the dark color which would be discharged were some vital spot injured. Finally, after traveling about six miles, the flow of blood began to lessen. At length we reached a point where he entered a tract of thick timber, evidently at a walk. We concluded that it was best not to pursue him in this retreat, because his slow pace might indicate exhaustion and a disposition to lie down. The only hope I had of securing him would be in case of his lying down and becoming stiff from his wound and not being able to get up. We concluded to allow plenty of time for this to happen. The guide made a circuit around the timber and could discover no trace of his having emerged from it. We then went back to the horses and rode to camp. The succeeding day we returned to the spot, traced the steps of the elk to a place where he had lain down, and saw a slight discoloration of the snow where his brisket had touched it, his tracks led onward, and signs of bleeding had ceased. All our trouble had been in vain because of an improperly arranged sight.

By this time I had been about ten days in camp and was growing quite accustomed to the life. Although the weather was quite cold, at times going to eight or ten below zero at night, yet it often grew warm enough during the day to thaw, but it was dry, light atmosphere and always bracing. Every night for a brief interval we were treated to a serenade from the coyotes, a ridiculous, wild and unearthly chant, which became a positive nuisance when the dogs undertook an accompaniment right at our ears. Occasionally a bull elk, feeding during the full of the moon, would cause the cold atmosphere to vibrate with his shrill whistle as he loped past the camp. In all other respects we were entirely alone for the twenty-two days I stayed in camp except one, when the game warden dropped in to look at my license, and after a brief stay took his departure. How different this was from most of the hunting in the East, where the number of sportsmen has become so great as to render the pastime almost as dangerous for the hunter as it is for game. Particularly is this the case when “green sportsmen” persist in shooting at anything that moves without first finding out what it is. My guide expressed his surprise at the number of accidents which occur every year in the Adirondacks through gross carelessness. He remarked that he believed it would be best if one were hunting in the Adirondacks and saw anything moving in the brush to shoot without waiting to find out what it was, because the chances are that it would be a man, and if you did not shoot him he would shoot you. I was rather amused at this piece of grim humor, which is a sample of what he generally had on tap.

The sun dawned auspiciously upon what proved to be my luckiest day in camp. For some days I had hunted diligently without securing the heads that would satisfy me. We had not journeyed over three miles from camp before we saw, at quite a distance, a large bull move into a thickly wooded valley. We turned our course in that direction, keeping out of view as much as possible, riding along a hill which overlooked the valley into which the bull had taken refuge. We came to an open and slightly undulating country, which was covered with about eighteen inches of snow, and gave evidence that quite a number of elk had recently passed that way, and about 500 yards off saw a herd with several good heads. The country was quite open, but broken up with thick clumps of spruce trees here and there. To get nearer the herd it was necessary to cross a wide open space, but by a timely maneuver of the guide we traveled under cover until we reached a point where a thick clump of trees standing out in the open space obstructed the view between us and the elk. We then rode out in the open toward the clump of trees which concealed us from view. Having gained this point, which was about 175 to 200 yards from the herd, I dismounted and stepped out in the clearing. The cows again provokingly ran between me and the largest bull, which I had marked as my own. Fortunately, the cows ran ahead and I got a quartering view of the large bull. The bright reflection of the sun on the snow made it somewhat difficult to fully distinguish the body of the animal in the dense moving mass, but I succeeded in locating it. Drawing a fine sight on my Mauser I fired. The entire herd disappeared over the crest of the hill. The guide, who by this time had mounted his horse, cried, “You have got a bull.” I asked him if it was the “big one.” He replied, “I don’t know.” In the confused and changing mass it was indeed difficult to keep track of any particular one. We urged the horses to their utmost speed; the antlers of the bull continued growing larger to the view as we drew near. Finally, with an exclamation of satisfaction, the guide slipped off his horse and congratulated me upon the kill. “The largest head in the bunch.” It was indeed a fine bull, with a spread just short of four feet. There were twelve points on the antlers, six tines on each side. The bullet had lodged a little back of the shoulder and the animal had dropped without a struggle. In the space of fifteen or twenty minutes the carcass was dressed; the mantle had been stripped off, and we were ready to return for a couple of pack horses to bring in the antlers and meat.

We had hardly mounted the horses when we saw another bull with a fine head about 250 yards away. I slid off my horse, and getting the distance from the guide, I drew a coarse sight and fired as the animal was going over a hill. We hurried over to the spot where the bull had been and saw faint splotches of blood on the snow. As we descended the hill the guide remarked he hoped we would not have as long a chase after this one as we did after the bull we hunted so long a few days previous. I replied that I was certain we would not. “How do you know?” he asked. For answer I pointed to a lifeless form just beyond lying among some spruce trees. As the guide stepped alongside of me, where he could get a view, he expressed his surprise at the luck I had had in getting two such fine heads in so short an interval. It was barely half an hour since I had secured my first trophy, and now I had a second one which we both regarded as better than the first. The ball had struck back of the shoulder a little above the middle of the body. The spread of this head was a trifle larger than the first one I had shot; the antlers were more solid, especially at the base. My hard hunting had been rewarded. I had obtained inside of half an hour two heads as handsome and large as any that it had ever been my good fortune to secure. I felt like a school boy about to take a vacation, for I had hunted faithfully for about eleven days and I promised myself a rest when I had won out with the bulls.

For several days I took it easy; a large part of the time I sat in a comfortable chair in camp and read novels and played cards. I also managed to work up quite a small medical practice, my victims being Sheffield, Charles Herdick and Marcus Imo, the cock and horse wrangler. The remedies which some people of the far West prescribe for their ailments are quite original and simple. One day when I was starting out on horseback to hunt in company with Herdick, I noticed that he had not saddled his horse. I asked him the reason. He replied that he was not feeling well and wanted exercise. Anyone familiar with hunting in Jackson’s Hole knows how often one has to leave the horse to travel on foot over rough country through snow and up slippery ascents for hundreds of feet.

Herdick evidently thought this was not enough exercise to keep him in condition. Another time Imo had contracted a severe cold which I wanted to prescribe for. He replied that it had come on without anything and it would go off without anything. After some persuasion he consented to take a good dose of quinine and a hot drink before retiring. The next morning the cold had about disappeared, but when Imo went out to round up the horses he had great difficulty in hearing the bell on account of the quinine buzzing in his ear, which confirmed his bad opinion of medicine.

After I had tired of loafing I hunted with the dogs, tracking cougars, bobcats and lynx. Occasionally I would take a shot at a coyote to pay it back for some of the unearthly serenades we had been treated to at night. One day, while following the track of a lynx, Herdick came across a No. 5 bear trap. He discovered it by noticing some fresh elk meat near it. The trap was carefully concealed, and had he been an inexperienced hunter or perhaps walking along there at night he might have made discovery by stepping in it. It is against the law to bait a trap with elk meat, and it should be forbidden to set traps around indiscriminately where sportsmen are licensed to hunt; the permission implying reasonable safety, which is not the case when dangerous traps are set without proper safeguards. We sprung the trap and went on. Some men, who are acquainted with the danger arising from this source, always carry a monkey-wrench when hunting or trapping. A steel trap which could hold a silver-tip would inflict a terrible injury upon anyone who was unfortunate enough to become entrapped, even if assistance were promptly rendered, and assistance being remote, might cause a painful, lingering death. I knew of a case where a trapper had set two No. 5 bear traps, and upon his return found a large silver-tip in one of them. Venturing rather close to the bear the enraged animal made a sudden lunge at him, which the man evaded by stepping back hurriedly. In doing so he accidentally fell and sprung the other trap with his knee and was caught in that position. The man was unable to get to his rifle to dispatch the bear, which was making efforts to reach him. Being in uncomfortably close quarters to the bear, and apprehensive of his safety, the trapper devised a clever plan to dispose of his disagreeable neighbor. Fastening his knife to the end of a long pole he repeatedly stabbed the bear until death ensued. His companion, going to examine the traps, at last found him almost dead with pain and released him.

The end of my outing at length drew near, and it became necessary to make arrangements to break camp. I had become quite attached to the beautiful spot where I had spent such a pleasant time and had so much luck. Although I had not bagged all the game the law allowed me, yet I felt that I had obtained exceptionally good heads and was satisfied. I had also collected a considerable number of photographs, of which Sheffield took the greatest number; in fact, he proved quite an expert in this line. The horses seemed no more anxious to leave than we were, and occasionally proved refractory and commenced to buck until something was bound over their eyes. The first night of the journey homeward we camped on the banks of the Gros Ventre. We put up no tents, but slept out in the open, because, as I said to the guide, I wanted to see how it felt to rough it.

During the day we had descended into a country where the elevation was considerably lower. The snow, which we had seen continuously in our former camp, had all disappeared and the temperature was much warmer. Early the next day we reached Jackson, where we put up at Nelson’s Hotel and were very hospitably entertained. Although remote from the regular line of travel and the railroad, the people in this locality live remarkably well and in comfort, and on reaching this point I felt I was in touch with the rest of the world. Although it is 100 miles from the railroad, yet it is connected with St. Anthony by telephone. A musical entertainment was arranged here for our benefit by the hospitable inhabitants of the place, which proved very enjoyable.