Watched by Wild Animals. Enos A. Mills

In the wilds, moving or standing, I was the observed of all observers. Although the animals did not know I was coming, generally they were watching for me and observed me without showing themselves.

As I sat on a log watching two black bears playing in a woods opening, a faint crack of a stick caused me to look behind. A flock of mountain sheep were watching me only a few steps distant. A little farther away a wildcat sat on a log, also watching me. There probably were other watchers that I did not see.

Animals use instinct and reason and also have curiosity—the desire to know. Many of the more wide-awake species do not run panic-stricken from the sight or the scent of man. When it is safe they linger to watch him. They also go forth seeking him. Their keen, automatic, constant senses detect him afar, and stealthily, sometimes for hours, they stalk, follow and watch him.

In the wilderness the enthusiastic, painstaking and skillful observer will see many wild folks following their daily routine. But, however fortunate he may be, numerous animals will watch him whose presence he never suspects.

Parts of the chapters in this book have appeared in the Saturday Evening Post, the American Boy, Field and Stream, Munsey’s and Countryside. Acknowledgment is hereby made to the editors of these magazines for granting permission to reprint this material.

CHAPTER I
THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN GOAT

Table of Contents

As a flock of wild goats wound in and out among the crevasses and crossed the slender ice bridges of a glacier on Mount Rainier they appeared for all the world like a party of skillful mountain climbers.

Not until I had studied them for a few seconds through my field glasses did I realize that they were goats. There were twenty-seven of them, nannies, billies, and kids, strung out in a crooked line, single file. Once safely across this glacier they lingered to look round. The kids played, the old goats had friendly bouts, and one or two couples scratched each other. After a delay of more than an hour they set off round the mountain and I followed.

While crossing another ice slope they were suddenly subjected to a severe bombardment. A number of large rock fragments crashed down the steep slope, bounding, hurtling, and ripping the air with terrific speed. The goats were directly in the path of the flying stones, which for a number of seconds bounded over them and struck among them. A small stone struck an old billy on the shoulder and knocked him sliding for some distance. When he regained his feet his shoulder appeared to be broken. Though making every effort to control himself, he continued to slide and presently tumbled into a crevasse. He caught with his good fore foot on the ice and clung for a second, made one desperate attempt to push himself back and almost succeeded, and then fell into the crevasse and disappeared.

A few of the flock watched him, but most of them stood with their heads up the slope facing the wildly bounding stones. None of them ran; there was no confusion, no panic. It was, perhaps, safer for the goats to stand still, thus presenting the smallest target for the flying stones, than to rush forward or to retreat in the midst of the bombardment, for the rocks were coming down both in front and behind them. At any rate, the goat is a wise fellow, and this flock probably had experienced rock fire before. When it was all over the bearded old leader started forward with the rest again following.

Until recently most goats lived in localities rarely visited either by Indians or by white hunters. As a result, when first shot at they were not excited and were slow to run away. This procrastination of the goat while under fire, together with his supremely crude outlines and slow, awkward actions, led most early hunters and trappers to call him a stupid animal. But he is not at all stupid. Evidence of his alertness and mental development is shown in his curiosity and in his ability to readjust himself promptly to new dangers.

In localities where he was unacquainted with man the goat apparently made no effort to guard against enemies or to use sentinels. But promptly after the coming of hunters and long-range rifles he became extremely wary and sought look-out resting places of safety and had sentinels on duty. He is thoroughly wide-awake at all times. When surprised in close quarters he shows no confusion or panic, and retreats in a masterly manner. If one route of retreat is blocked he starts for another without losing his head. If finally cornered, he makes a stand.

Hunters and dogs cornered an old billy near me in the head of a glacial cirque, in what is now the Glacier National Park. The goat made his stand on slide

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