Hunting -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- West (U.S.); West (U.S.) -- Description and travel
For three days we rested our horses here, and amused ourselves with
fishing and hunting, for which the valley afforded every opportunity, as
all sorts of game swarmed and the covered ground enabled the hunter to
approach it. At night the whole valley seemed at times to be alive; the
tramping of flying buffaloes rang on our ears, which were close to the
ground, and the yells of hunting wolves could be distinctly heard: now
and then the terrible roar of the jaguar rang through the damp moonlit
night, and often so close to camp, that we leaped up and seized our
rifles, while Trusty replied with furious barking. The couguar or
maneless American lion (panther), which is very frequent here, often
raised its plaintive cry; while the hoarse, dull growl of the bear
echoed through the rocks. Countless owls floated spectrally, with
lengthened flapping of their wings, over this nocturnal landscape, or
glided like a breath over our camp. Although we were frequently roused
from sleep by this night life of the animal world, it never disturbed us
for long, for so soon as we convinced ourselves that there was no danger
for us, we fell asleep again. During our stay we killed a great quantity
of game, of which we only used the tidbits, and thus behaved no better
than all these four-footed beasts of prey, whose behaviour is after all
far more chivalrous than ours.
On the morning we had appointed for our departure I was awakened by the
yell of a jaguar. I sprang up, and heard it again at no great distance
from our camp. Our fire was rather low, and hence it had ventured rather
nearer to us, and our cattle had probably aroused its appetite for
blood. I made Tiger a sign to go with me, took my rifle and crawled with
Trusty at my heels in the direction whence I had heard the jaguar. The
grass was very damp, so that we could creep on without making the
slightest noise. We stopped and listened. I fancied I had heard the
puffing sound I had previously noticed with these animals, and which, I
believe, is produced by their blowing out the dew which impedes their
organs of scent. I heard it again, and not very far off, when suddenly
the sharp snapping yelp was raised close before us, I hurried up some
rocks, and saw the huge creature standing on a small clearing about
thirty yards from me. The grass on which it was standing was still
rather dark, and only the highest haulms displayed heavy drops of dew,
while the breaking dawn was reflected in the brute's smooth
yellow-black spotted body. I had fallen on one knee on the grass, when
the royal brute again raised its half-open throat and uttered its
murderous cry, accompanied by a blast of its hot breath, which rose like
a strip of mist in the cold breeze. It stood motionless. I rested my arm
that held the rifle on my knee, and everything was so still that I could
distinctly hear my heart beat. I now fired, and with an awful roar the
brute first rose straight in the air, then turned over and writhed in
the grass.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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