The coyotes, or small wolves, and the grey or tree climbing foxes of California, make a kind of barking noise, more like the bark of a small dog than the howl of a wolf; and therefore barking is not so much of “an acquired” art as has been supposed, though the “laughter” of dogs is more or less acquired.
The whistle of the elk is as complete a call to his mistress, and is as well understood, as though the female had said, “Whistle and I’ll come to you.” Elk and antelope are still to be found in California, as well as wild horses, but they are now quite timid, and resort to unfrequented ranges. The best hunting now to be found in California, except for water-fowl, is in the region of Kern River. Near its source big-horn or mountain sheep may be killed, and from along the base of the eastern slope, antelope range into the desert. Deer and bear may be found on either slope of the range, and among the broken hills south of the head of Tulare valley.
Wolves, foxes, badgers, coons, and other fur-clothed animals, are also quite numerous. I have dared to question some of Mr. Darwin’s facts, and as I expect this to be my last literary effort (oh, ye reviewers!), I wish to remind the publishers of Webster’s Dictionary that a beaver is not an “amphibious” animal, neither is a muscalonge “an overgrown pickerel.”
A few days after we had moved camp to the south side of the Merced, Captain Boling was prostrated with an attack of pneumonia. From frequent wettings received while crossing the ice-cold torrents, and a too free use of this snow-water, which did not agree with many, he had for some days complained of slight illness, but after this attack he was compelled to acknowledge himself sick. Although the severe symptoms continued but a few days, his recovery was lingering, and confined him to camp; consequently he knew but little of his rocky surroundings. Although regular reports were made to him by the scouting parties, he had but an imperfect conception of the labors performed by them in clambering over the rocks of the cañons and mountains. He would smile at the reports the more enthusiastic gave of the wonders discovered; patiently listen to the complaints of the more practical at their want of success in, what they termed, their futile explorations; and finally concluded to suspend operations until the fast-melting snow had so disappeared from the high mountain passes as to permit our taking a supply-train, in order to make our search thorough. The winter had been an unusually dry and cold one—so said the Indians—and, as a consequence, the accumulations of snow in the passes and lake basins had remained almost intact. A succession of mountain storms added to the drifts, so that when the snow finally began to melt, the volume of water coming from the “High Sierras” was simply prodigious—out of all proportion to the quantity that had fallen upon the plains below.
Sandino persisted in trying to make the Captain believe that most of the Yosemites had already gone through the Mono Pass, and that those remaining hidden, were but the members of Ten-ie-ya’s family. This theory was not accepted by Capt. Boling, and occasional scouting parties would still be sent out. A few of us continued to make short excursions, more for adventure and to gratify curiosity, than with the expectation of discovering the hiding places of the Indians; although we kept up the form of a search. We thus became familiar with most of the objects of interest.
The more practical of our command could not remain quiet in camp during this suspension of business. Beside the ordinary routine of camp duties, they engaged in athletic sports and horse-racing. A very fair race track was cleared and put in condition, and some of the owners of fast horses were very much surprised, to see their favorites trailing behind some of the fleet-footed mules. A maltese Kentucky blooded mule, known as the “Vining Mule,” distanced all but one horse in the command, and so pleased was Capt. Boling with its gracefully supple movements, that he paid Vining for it a thousand dollars in gold.
For a change of amusement, the members of our “Jockey Club” would mount their animals and take a look at such points of interest as had been designated in our camp-fire conversations as most remarkable. The scenery in the Yosemite and vicinity, which is now familiar to so many, was at that time looked upon with varied degrees of individual curiosity and enjoyment, ranging from the enthusiastic, to almost a total indifference to the sublime grandeur presented. It is doubtful if any of us could have given a very graphic description of what we saw, as the impressions then received were so far below the reality. Distance, height, depth and dimensions were invariably under-estimated; notwithstanding this, our attempts at descriptions after our return to the settlements, were received as exaggerated “yarns.”
While in Mariposa, upon one occasion not very long after the discovery of Yosemite, I was solicited by Wm. T. Whitachre, a newspaper correspondent from San Francisco, to furnish him a written description of the Valley. This, of course, was beyond my ability to do; but I disinterestedly complied with his request as far as I could, by giving him some written details to work upon. On reading the paper over, he advised me to reduce my estimates of heights of cliffs and waterfalls, at least fifty per centum, or my judgment would be a subject of ridicule even to my personal friends. I had estimated El Capitan at from fifteen hundred to two thousand feet high; the Yosemite Fall at about fifteen hundred feet, and other prominent points of interest in about the same proportion.
To convince me of my error of judgment, he stated that he had interviewed Captain Boling and some others, and that none had estimated the highest cliffs above a thousand feet. He further said that he would not like to risk his own reputation as a correspondent, without considerable modification of my statements, etc. Feeling outraged at this imputation, I tore up the manuscript, and left the “newspaper man” to obtain where he could such data for his patrons as would please him. It remained for those who came after us to examine scientifically, and to correctly describe what we only observed as wonderful natural curiosities. With but few exceptions, curiosity was gratified by but superficial examination of the objects now so noted. We were aware that the valley was high up in the regions of the Sierra Nevada, but its altitude above the sea level was only guessed at. The heights of its immense granite walls was an uncertainty, and so little real appreciation was there in the battalion, that some never climbed above the Vernal Fall. They knew nothing of the beauties of the Nevada Fall, or the “Little Yosemite.” We, as a body of men, were aware that the mountains, cañons and waterfalls were on a grandly extensive scale, but of the proportions of that scale we had arrived at no very definite conclusions.
During our explorations of the Sierras, we noticed the effects of the huge avalanches of snow and ice that had in some age moved over the smooth granite rocks and plowed the deep cañons. The evidences of past glacial action were frequently visible; so common, in fact, as hardly to be objects of special interest to us. The fact that glaciers in motion existed in the vast piles of snow on the Sierras, was not dreamed of by us, or even surmised by others, until discovered, in 1870, by Mr. John Muir, a naturalist and most persistent mountain explorer, who by accurate tests verified the same, and gave his facts to the world. Mr. Muir has also brought into prominent notice, by publications in “Scribner’s Monthly Illustrated Magazine,” some of the beautiful lakes of the Sierras, having discovered many unknown before. Mr. Muir’s descriptions combine the most delightful imagery with the accuracy of a true lover of nature. His article upon the water-auszel, “The humming-bird of the California waterfalls,” in the same magazine, proves him a most accomplished observer.