As they are only worked by men on horseback they are not frightened at the sight of a horse and rider; but let a stranger approach them on foot, in a moment after he is sighted every head is raised in surprise and alarm and the pedestrian is, indeed, fortunate if the herd turns tail and scampers off instead of running him down and tramping him under foot in a wild stampede.
Nowhere else can be found a finer sight than is witnessed in the range country. In every direction broad meadows stretch away to the horizon where numberless cattle roam and are the embodiment of bovine happiness and contentment. Scattered about in irregular groups they are seen at ease lying down or feeding, and frisking about in an overflow of exuberant life. Cow paths or trails converge from every point of the compass, that lead to springs and water holes, on which the cattle travel.
It is an interesting sight to watch the cattle maneuver as they form in line, single file, ready for the march. They move forward in an easy, deliberate walk one behind the other and may be seen coming and going in every direction. They make their trips with great regularity back and forth from grass to water, and vice versa, going to water in the morning and back to the feeding grounds at night.
Cows have a curious fashion, sometimes, of hiding out their calves. When a cow with a young calf starts for water she invariably hides her calf in a bunch of grass or clump of bushes in some secluded spot, where it lies down and remains perfectly quiet until the mother returns. I have many times while riding the range found calves thus secreted that could scarcely be aroused or frightened away, which behavior was so different from their usual habit of being shy and running off at the slightest provocation. The calf under such circumstances seems to understand that it is "not at home," and cannot be seen.
At another time a lot of calves are left in charge of a young cow or heifer that seems to understand her responsibility and guards her charge carefully. The young calves are too weak to make the long trip to water and thus, through the maternal instinct of the mother cow, she provides for the care of her offspring almost as if she were human.
After viewing such a large pasture as the open range presents, which is limitless in extent, the small fenced field or pasture lot of a few acres on the old home farm back east, that looked so large to boyish eyes in years gone by, dwindles by comparison into insignificance and can never again be restored to its former greatness.
[1] This statement is made on the authority of Mr. F. W. Volz, who lives at Canon Diablo, and is familiar with the customs of the Navajos.