Chapter Twenty Two.
Deer.
Of these graceful quadrupeds there are nearly fifty species known to the scientific naturalist. These are geographically distributed throughout the continents of Europe, Asia, and America; and several belong to the great Indian islands. In Africa we find only two kinds, and these confined to the mountain regions near the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. Throughout the central and southern parts of that vast continent no native deer exist; but their place is plentifully supplied by their very near kindred the antelopes—for which, as already seen, Africa is especially famous.
It will be evident to my young readers, that anything like a detailed description of fifty different kinds of animals would take up a volume of itself. I must therefore content myself with giving a brief account of the more remarkable species, and a word or two only about those less noted.
If size entitle a species to precedence, then decidedly the Elk should stand first. He is the largest of the deer tribe—not unfrequently standing as high as a horse, and carrying upon his crown a pair of broad, flat-branched antlers, weighing sixty pounds! Although truly an animal of the deer kind, he lacks those graceful shapes and proportions that characterise most of his congeners; and his mode of progression—a sort of shambling trot—is awkward in the extreme. While the animal is in the act of running, its long split hoofs strike together, giving out a series of singular sounds that resemble the crackling of castanets. In the elk countries of North America the native Indians prize the skins—dressing them into a soft pliable leather. The flesh is also eaten; but it is inferior to the venison of either the fallow or red deer.
The elk belongs equally to the Old and New Worlds. His range is the wooded countries of high latitudes in the north, both of Europe and Asia; and in America he is found in similar situations. In the latter continent he is called the Moose; and the name Elk is there erroneously given to another and more southern species—the Wapiti—to be noticed presently.
In North America the range of the elk may be defined by regarding the boundary-line of the United States and Canada as its southern limit. Formerly elks were met with as far south as the Ohio—now they are rare even in Wisconsin. In Canada, and northward to the shores of the Arctic Sea, wherever timber is plenteous, the great moose deer dwell. They roam in small herds—or perhaps only families, consisting of six or seven individuals—and feed chiefly on the leaves of plants and trees. Their legs are so long, and their necks so short, that they cannot graze on the level ground, but, like the giraffes of Africa, are compelled to browse on the tops of tall plants, and the twigs and leaves of trees, in the summer; while in the winter they feed on the tops of the willows and small birches, and are never found far from the neighbourhood where such trees grow. Though they have no fore-teeth in their upper jaw, yet they are enabled somehow or other to crop from the willows and birch trees twigs of considerable thickness, cutting them off as clean as if the trees were pruned by a gardener’s shears.
The moose is a sly animal, and in early winter all the craft of the hunter is required to capture it. In summer it is easier to do so: these animals are then so tormented with mosquitoes and gnats, that they become almost heedless of the approach of their more dangerous enemy, man. In winter the hunter follows the moose by his track, easily discovered in the snow; but it is necessary to approach from the leeward, as the slightest sound borne to his ear upon the breeze is sufficient to start him off. A very singular habit of the moose adds to the difficulty of approaching him. When he has the intention to repose, he turns sharply out of the general track he has been following, and then, making a circuit, lies down, his body being hidden by the surrounding snow. In this lair he can hear any one passing along the track he has made; and, thus warned, his escape is easy. The hunter who understands his business can usually give a guess (from a survey of the ground) of where these détours are likely to be taken, and takes his measures accordingly. When within range, the hunter usually makes some noise, as by snapping a twig: the moose starts to his feet, and shows himself above the snow. For a moment he squats on his hams, before starting off. This is the fatal moment, for it is the time for the hunter to take sure aim and send the fatal bullet. If the shot prove only a slight wound, and not mortal, the moose sometimes turns upon his enemy; and if a friendly tree be not convenient, the hunter stands a good chance of being trampled to death. In the rutting season the moose will assail even man himself without provocation; and at such times the old “bulls” (as the hunters term the males) have terrible conflicts with one another.