Jack the Young Cowboy: An Eastern Boy's Experiance on a Western Round-up

by George Bird Grinnell

[CHAPTER XIII]
BIG WOLVES

It happened the next day that Jack was riding circle on the far side of the ground that was being covered. Almost all day he rode without seeing any cattle, and it was well along in the afternoon when he came up to the top of a ridge and stopped his horse just before he reached its crest. Here he dismounted and, walking up, peeped over to see what there might be on the other side. This of course was not at all what most cowboys would have done, but the habits of caution taught Jack by Hugh in the early days of his travels in the West were too firmly fixed to be overcome, and when alone Jack always looked over a hill in this way.

Rather to his surprise he saw down in a little flat, five hundred yards away, a small bunch of cattle—perhaps eighteen or twenty head. This was a surprise, partly because he had seen none during the day, but chiefly because the cattle were close bunched, as if brought together by a herder. For an instant he did not comprehend what this meant, but then his eye caught two gray animals—big wolves—which were slowly walking about the herd. Evidently the cattle had come together for protection, and were standing there, heads out, ready to repel an attack if it should be made on them. Jack felt that he ought to ride down and drive off the wolves and bring the cattle in, but, on the other hand, he was very curious to see what the wolves would do. More than once he had seen coyotes trying to take from a cow a young calf that was by her side, but this was the first time he had seen big wolves round up cattle. He waited, therefore, to see what would happen, thinking that after a little while the wolves would probably give up the job and go off in search of some single animal which they could run down and kill, as he had once seen them do on his way out from the railroad to his uncle's ranch.

For two or three minutes nothing happened, and the wolves continued to walk around the bunch. Then, suddenly, one of them made a dash at the bunch of cattle, going so close to them that Jack expected to see the wolf caught on a steer's horns and thrown into the air. When the wolf rushed up, the bunch of cattle seemed to tremble; that is to say, there was apparently a slight movement by every individual in the herd, and Jack recalled similar movements which he had seen years before in British Columbia among a school of salmon far below the surface of the water, when some one darted down toward the fish a spear which nearly reached them. It seemed to him that every animal yielded a little, yet no one of them perhaps moved more than six or eight inches.

A moment or two later one of the wolves made another rush, which was followed by a similar slight movement of the bunch; and then the wolves continued their slow march about the cattle. This happened several times, but at last when the wolf dashed toward the bunch, one animal—a full-grown one—burst out of the herd and started to run. In an instant the wolf was behind it, between it and the other cattle; and a moment later the second wolf had joined the first one, and they loped quietly along after the single animal. Presently, running side by side, they drew up close to its heels, and then, separating, one of them made a vicious snap at the cow's leg while the other sprang and caught it in the flank; and in an instant, too quickly for Jack to see how it was done, the beast was on its side and the wolves were tearing at its belly. Jack jumped to his horse and rode over the ridge, charging down toward the wolves. They paid no attention to him until he was within less than a hundred yards, and then, suddenly looking up, they galloped away. He fired four or five shots after them, but without result.

The animal that they had pulled down was a two-year-old heifer, big, strong and fat. Her whole flank was torn out, and she was dead. There was nothing to be done with her. The brand was not one with which Jack was familiar, and he thought she was a stray from some distant ranch. He drove the remaining cattle slowly toward camp, and after a time met some of the other boys bringing in another bunch, and turned his in with theirs.

That night, after supper, he talked with Hugh about the wolves and the harm they did, and also about the tremendous power that seemed to be wrapped up in one of those not very large hides. Hugh had seen wolves pull down cattle, and had a great respect for the way in which these animals were able to supply themselves with food.

"You know more about big wolves, son, than most men do," said Hugh. "You've picked up what we can all see on the prairie here; and, besides that, you've had a tame wolf of your own. I reckon that you found, after you got to know him well, that your wolf was just nothing but a big dog—bigger and stronger, and ten times more enduring, of course, than any dog you ever saw, but still just pretty nearly plain dog. Of course he and his father and grandfathers for a good many generations had always been wild dogs, but up to within a few generations wolves were no more afraid of people—in this country, I mean—than they were of any other animals. You see in old times Indians never chased wolves, or frightened them at all. They did kill some, but they didn't kill 'em in a way to scare 'em. I reckon I've told you already—if not I, the Blackfeet have told you—about how the Indians used to catch wolves in old times. If the Blackfeet haven't described it to you, you surely must have had some stories told you that explained how they caught 'em."

"Why, yes, Hugh," Jack replied, "I remember one such story; but I never thought to ask much about how they caught wolves—they spoke about setting snares around the pis'kun and catching the wolves in this way, but I didn't ask much about it."

"That's just what they used to do. You see, there were always holes left in the pis'kun walls, mostly small holes, and through these holes the wolves and coyotes used to go into the pis'kun to feed on the carcasses or the offal that was left there after the butchering. Well, the people liked wolf skins: they used them for robes, or for hats, or to cut up into wide strips to sew on the edges of a buffalo robe to make it look nice; and so around these holes they used to set loops of sinew with a running knot. When the wolf was squeezing through a hole he would put his head through one of these nooses and, drawing it up, would choke to death in no time at all. Catching wolves in this way didn't scare 'em and they were always very tame."