Hunting the Grisly and Other Sketches: An Account of the Big Game of the United States and its Chase with Horse, Hound, and RifleRoosevelt, Theodore
History
Hunting the Grisly and Other Sketches: An Account of the Big Game of the United States and its Chase with Horse, Hound, and Rifle
Roosevelt, Theodore
Hunting -- United States
We started after breakfast, riding powerful cow-ponies, well trained to
gallop at full speed through the dense chaparral. The big black hound
slouched at our heels. We rode down the banks of the Nueces, crossing
and recrossing the stream. Here and there were long, deep pools in the
bed of the river, where rushes and lilies grew and huge mailed
garfish swam slowly just beneath the surface of the water. Once my two
companions stopped to pull a mired cow out of a slough, hauling with
ropes from their saddle horns. In places there were half-dry pools,
out of the regular current of the river, the water green and fetid. The
trees were very tall and large. The streamers of pale gray moss hung
thickly from the branches of the live-oaks, and when many trees thus
draped stood close together they bore a strangely mournful and desolate
look.
We finally found the queer little hut of the Mexican goat-herder in the
midst of a grove of giant pecans. On the walls were nailed the skins
of different beasts, raccoons, wild-cats, and the tree-civet, with its
ringed tail. The Mexican's brown wife and children were in the hut, but
the man himself and the goats were off in the forest, and it took us
three or four hours' search before we found him. Then it was nearly
noon, and we lunched in his hut, a square building of split logs, with
bare earth floor, and roof of clap-boards and bark. Our lunch consisted
of goat's meat and _pan de mais_. The Mexican, a broad-chested man with
a stolid Indian face, was evidently quite a sportsman, and had two or
three half-starved hounds, besides the funny, hairless little house
dogs, of which Mexicans seem so fond.
Having borrowed the javalina hound of which we were in search, we rode
off in quest of our game, the two dogs trotting gayly ahead. The one
which had been living at the ranch had evidently fared well, and was
very fat; the other was little else but skin and bone, but as alert and
knowing as any New York street-boy, with the same air of disreputable
capacity. It was this hound which always did most in finding the
javalinas and bringing them to bay, his companion's chief use being to
make a noise and lend the moral support of his presence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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