Through the Heart of Patagonia

by H. Hesketh-Prichard

Once or twice I tried sitting up for bulls at their drinking-places, but never with any success. The fact is, that the forests they range through are so well watered with streams, pantanos and springs, that they have a score of drinking-places to choose from, therefore the chances are twenty to one against getting a shot. But in a district where water is scarce, it seems to me that this plan might meet with success. The best sport was undoubtedly that which we enjoyed towards Punta Bandera, a headland forming the north point of Mount Buenos Aires.

It was here, upon the thirteenth day of my hunting, about an hour and a half before dark, that I perceived a fine point of seventeen upon the hillside in front of me. They were, however, in a spot utterly impossible of approach, in the centre of a bald ridge upon the summit of which they were silhouetted against the black background of the mountain beyond them. Deep gullies cut up the intervening ground, and after advancing as near as might be, I lay down and possessed my soul in patience, waiting until the moment when the herd should choose to move. They had left me time enough and to spare for observing them through the glasses. Three black bulls, a yellow one and a red were the pick of the herd, there were some cows and well-grown calves also, and these last began to proceed very leisurely down a cow-track, which would ultimately lead them on to ground where they might be stalked. I had tied up my horse in a hollow among some bushes of Leña dura. It was a glorious evening and the shadows stood out very distinctly, so much so that from the slightly higher ground I could see with the telescope the movements of the shadows of the bulls. The bases of the mountain were steeped in clear still dusk, there was no wind, and the whole scene lived again fantastically in the smooth waters of the lake. When one is shooting, no matter how intent one may be upon the game, it is natural to observe these things and enjoy them, in a secondary sense possibly, but none the less keenly. Anyway, there was plenty of time to observe, for the herd took it easy, and now and then one of the big bulls would come to a standstill and stare about him. The yellow bull especially took my fancy, the spread of his horns must have been over four feet. At length, however, the last of the herd disappeared into a gully and I hastened forward. About a mile separated me from the point, and this I covered at good speed; the final bit necessitated a crawl, which ended on the edge of a low rocky plateau. Here I peered through some fuchsia-bushes. To my disgust the herd had quickened their pace, and were a little beyond range upon a space of level land beneath me; they lingered here for an uncommonly long time, giving me ample opportunity to study the surrounding cow-tracks and the grass-bare wallows. Meantime the precious light was fading, and the reflections of the snow-peaks were beginning to blur and darken in the mirror of the lake. Ahead of the herd were a number of tracks, which ran parallel with each other for a certain distance, but afterwards branched into different directions. I could see them dimly through the telescope. Should they happen to take the lowest of these, they would be delivered into my hands, for it led immediately under a cliff over which I could get within a few yards of them. This track finally emerged upon the shore of the lake. Under the leadership of a yellow cow, the whole point began presently to descend this very track. As soon as the last of them was out of sight, I rushed on to secure my shot. On the way I spied from behind a boulder on high ground the coveted old yellow bull knee-deep in the lake, drinking. Over the first part, which was high, I had to be very careful, but once this spot was passed, coming to the conclusion that as the light was fading so fast the race would probably be to the swift, I hurried. Alas! a deep gully again blocked my way, and it was necessary to make a détour of about half a mile through breast-high bushes. While passing amongst the brush much care had, of course, to be exercised to avoid the breaking of twigs or branches, as the herd was not far off. When at last I arrived at the cliff above the spot where the herd had disappeared, I could not see the sights of my rifle. I would have given much for two minutes of moonlight, for I could hear the noise of the bulls moving within twenty yards, and the smell of them was distinctly perceptible to my senses, sharpened by months of a natural life. The whole herd had packed pretty close together on the edge of the shingle, but it was already too dark for me to shoot, so I retired after a while, comforting myself with the prospect of following the herd in the morning.

Yet although I followed, I never found. The herd, as was to be read from the tracks, struck upwards after leaving the lake and entered a wide piece of forest, in which no day was ever long enough to find them. Several times after this we were on the tail of a herd, and again and again lost them in the dense forests. The ground over which one had to move was extremely baulking to success; it was covered with broken sticks, dead trees, and branches, dry, rotten, and ready to snap beneath the smallest pressure. Sometimes after a long stalk one found oneself in a patch of dry dead bushes, the breaking of any bough of which would certainly spoil all chance of success. Again, one could not see more than from twenty to fifty yards ahead, and in thick forests much less. A herd will stand quite still till within thirty yards if you have not perceived them, but the moment your eye catches one of theirs the animal makes off, taking his companions with him.

A bull, if you wound him and he charges, will charge but once, and if he misses you, will pass on. But a cow is quite another affair. She will return to the charge again and again, and will kneel down in order to horn her antagonist. She is at least twice as formidable an antagonist as a bull.

The next time I saw wild cattle was once again upon Punta Bandera, and upon this occasion I had my first shot. It was early in the morning when I made out the point with the glasses, feeding about half-way up a spur of the mountain-side. Determined this time not to be disappointed, a whole day was spent in a series of very careful manœuvres. All went well until I entered a patch of dry dead growth, so thick as to make it impossible to move without giving audible indication of one's presence. While lying among this stuff debating what course to pursue, to my delight a black and white bull, evidently the leader of the herd, rose, grunted once or twice, and, followed by the whole of his companions, began to come towards me. He got to within 150 yards, and there coming upon the edge of the dry stuff among which I lay hidden, turned tail and moved slowly in the opposite direction. To shoot through the undergrowth, which was about five feet high, was, of course, impossible. Yet there was no chance of the animals, while roving in search of pasture, reaching any better position with regard to me, while any movement on my part to approach them must have been through the dead bushes. There was nothing for it then but to stand up and take the chance of a shot. A twig snapped in my rising and the herd charged furiously away. A red bull, which had travelled higher than his fellows upon the slope of the mountain, gave very much the best chance as he raced along nearly broadside on.

He turned a complete somersault to the shot and lay so still that I thought I had killed him. As I went towards him, however, he scrambled to his feet and galloped after the retreating herd, and although upon their tracks for the greater part of the evening, at no point on the way, nor at the spot where he had fallen, did I find any traces of blood. I therefore concluded that he had put his foot in a hole, and that I had missed him clean. Since my return I have heard the end of the history. The red bull was found dead quite close to where I had shot him. He was, I understand, hit through the lungs.

The Father of the Herd.

After this shot on Punta Bandera, the herd left that locality, as they invariably do, and most of the remainder of our hunting took place upon the Lake Rica, or southern side, of the great mountain. One of the pleasantest days we enjoyed was upon Mount Frias where a large point of cattle had gone up beyond the snow-line. On that occasion, when above the snow-line, I saw a pampa-fox, some guanaco and a few ostriches. Quite a number of small birds that I was unable to identify, as I could not shoot them, were feeding upon a red berry which grows beneath the snow.