Wild yak are said to be plentiful throughout Thibet, but at present the Tartars watch their frontier so jealously that it is almost impossible for Europeans to cross with any chance of obtaining sport; particularly as the sportsman’s own Tartar attendants would be the first to endeavour to frustrate any ambitious schemes of exploration. It must be remembered that, not only would they be held responsible by the Leh authorities if anything happened to an Englishman, but, living on the frontier themselves, they naturally like to be on good terms with their neighbours. The valley of Chang Chenmo, north of the Pangong Lake, and the ground between the Niti Pass and the Sutlej, are the only two easily accessible places where yak may be met with. Beyond Chang Chenmo there is said to be good ground on the Karakash, but to cross the Linzinthung plains would require special arrangements, and ponies would have to be taken instead of the ordinary tame yaks on account of the scarcity of grass. An old wild bull yak is a magnificent beast; he is nearly jet black, with a little grey about the muzzle and forehead. Though fifteen hands in height, his legs are short and sturdy. The long shaggy hair which droops from his body reaches down to his knees, and sometimes almost to the ground; and his huge swab of a tail rather adds to than detracts from his beauty. The white tails which are brought for sale are those of tame yaks; a wild bull’s tail is such an unwieldy mass of hair that it is not at all the sort of thing to have flipping round one’s head on a hot evening. Tame yaks have often a good deal of white about them. Wild yaks with white patches have occasionally been shot, but only cows as far as the writer can learn; wild bulls appear always to be black. The Tartars say that these mottled wild yaks are hybrids between the tame bulls, which are turned out to graze on the hills in the summer, and wild cows.
Captain Duff contributes the following interesting account of a successful stalk after yak:
I was out one day after a couple of Thibetan antelope, and not being able to get near them, was looking about to see if there was any game farther up the nullah. Right away up the head of the valley we saw a large herd of dhong, about twenty or more, with a lot of young ones, and even at that distance we could distinguish one much bigger than the rest. The next day, a heavy fall of snow prevented my going out; but on the third day, I started to try for them. It was a long walk to get anywhere near the herd, and of course, just as I was beginning to go a bit carefully, and take advantage of cover, I put up three very fair Oves Ammon, but the dhong did not seem to notice them, and the wind all through was in my favour. A bit farther on I came across one of those beastly kyang, which would keep running on in front of me till I could get across the river at the bottom of the valley. When I got up to where I expected to find the dhong, I found they had moved a good bit higher up the nullah, and I could not possibly get nearer than some three hundred yards from them. Leaving my gun-carrier and a Tartar behind with strict orders not to stir till I fired, I tried to crawl on with my shikari, but had to return before getting any distance, the dhong meanwhile feeding farther away and going up the hillside, thus making the stalk more and more difficult. I had seen no signs of my big friend, and began to think I had been mistaken; but there was a fair-sized bull with the herd. I now had to retrace my way for some distance, and get down to the river again, so as to creep up under cover of the bank till I got a hill between the dhong and myself. On reaching this hill, I found I could not possibly get within shot, and could do nothing but hide behind a large stone and wait.
I suppose I must have waited at least a couple of hours, when there was a bit of a commotion among the herd, the babies all running to the big ones, and I heard a funny noise which I could not account for. In a few minutes I saw the big bull appear from round the side of the hill, walk leisurely towards the herd, and lie down. Just then three chankos came past me, and I came to the conclusion that they had occasioned the scare, had been driven off by the big bull, and had made the noise I heard.
I waited for another good half-hour, and had almost made up my mind to crawl towards the bull in the hope that he would mistake me for one of the chankos coming back, and so give me a shot, when up he got, but only to walk a few yards, and then go down again and roll.
After a bit of this sort of play he got up again, and taking no notice of the rest of the herd, began walking towards me.
There was a little stream at the foot of the hill I was on, and the bull was walking quietly down the opposite bank, coming on slowly, looking like a young elephant with his hair nearly touching the ground on each side of him.
I waited and waited for him, till he got almost past me, and within about sixty or seventy yards, and then he stopped, looking down the nullah, and broadside on to me. I tried to get steady on him and fired; but he stood still, and my shikari said I had missed. The ground beyond him was softish, and I began to be afraid I had, and had not seen the bullet strike, so I fired again, and the bull dropped in his tracks. I found my first shot had hit him in the neck, and must have paralysed him, as he could not move his forelegs, though he could kick with his hind ones. My second shot was a wild one, and had only broken a hind fetlock. The rest of the herd ran in all directions at the shot, and then getting together, made for the top of the valley. As soon as I saw that the big bull could not get away, I started after them, and managed to get two more bulls.
The big bull was really a very fine beast, his forehead covered with curly grey hair. He measured just over 15 hands 1¼ in. as he lay. I put a stick as upright as I could against his withers, and measured to his heel.