“Noble game are these guanacos—large fine animals—noble game as the red deer himself. They differ much from the vicuñas. They herd only in small numbers, from six to ten or a dozen: while as many as four times this number of vicuñas may be seen together. There are essential points of difference in the habits of the two species. The guanacos are dwellers among the rocks, and are most at home when bounding from cliff to cliff, and ledge to ledge. They make but a poor run upon the level grassy plain, and their singular contorted hoofs seem to be adapted for their favourite haunts. The vicuñas, on the contrary, prefer the smooth turf of the table plains, over which they dart with the swiftness of the deer. Both are of the same family of quadrupeds, but with this very essential difference—the one is a dweller of the level plain, the other of the rocky declivity; and nature has adapted each to its respective habitat.”
Here the narrator was interrupted by the hunter-naturalist, who stated that he had observed this curious fact in relation to other animals of a very different genus, and belonging to the fauna of North America. “The animals I speak of,” said he, “are indigenous to the region of the Rocky Mountains, and well-known to our trapper friends here. They are the big horn (Ovis montana) and the prong-horned antelope (A. furcifer). The big horn is usually denominated a sheep, though it possesses far more of the characteristics of the deer and antelope families. Like the chamois, it is a dweller among the rocky cliffs and declivities, and only there does it feel at home, and in the full enjoyment of its faculties for security. Place it upon a level plain, and you deprive it of confidence, and render its capture comparatively easy. At the base of these very cliffs on which the Ovis montana disports itself, roams the prong-horn, not very dissimilar either in form, colour, or habits; and yet this creature, trusting to its heels for safety, feels at home and secure only on the wide open plain where it can see the horizon around it! Such is the difference in the mode of life of two species of animals almost cogenerie, and I am not surprised to hear you state that a somewhat like difference exists between the guanaco and vicuña.”
The hunter-naturalist was again silent, and the narrator continued.
“A few more strides up the mountain pass brought us to the edge of the plain, where we expected to see the vicuñas. We were not disappointed. A herd was feeding upon it, though at a good distance off. A beautiful sight they were, quite equalling in grace and stateliness the lordly deer. In fact, they might have passed for the latter to an unpractised eye, particularly at that season when deer are ‘in the red.’ Indeed the vicuña is more deer-like than any other animal except the antelope—much more so than its congeners the llama, alpaca, or guanaco. Its form is slender, and its gait light and agile, while the long tapering neck and head add to the resemblance. The colour, however, is peculiarly its own, and any one accustomed to seeing the vicuña can distinguish the orange-red of its silky coat at a glance, and at a great distance. So peculiar is it, that in Peru the ‘Colour de vicuña’ (vicuña colour) has become a specific name.
“My companion at once pronounced the animals before us a herd of vicuñas. There were about twenty in all, and all except one were quietly feeding on the grassy plain. This one stood apart, his long neck raised high in air, and his head occasionally turning from side to side, as though he was keeping watch for the rest. Such was in fact the duty he was performing; he was the leader of the herd—the patriarch, husband and father of the flock. All the others were ewes or young ones. So affirmed my companion.
“The vicuña is polygamous—fights for his harem with desperate fierceness, watches over its number while they feed or sleep, chooses the ground for browsing and rest—defends them against enemies—heads them in the advance, and covers their retreat with his own ‘person’—such is the domestic economy of the vicuña.
“‘Now, señor,’ said the hunter, eyeing the herd, ‘if I could only kill him (he pointed to the leader) I would have no trouble with the rest. I should get every one of them.’
“‘How?’ I inquired.
“‘Oh!—they would!—ha! The very thing I wished for!’
“‘What?’