A representative description of wild life exploitation in the Yellowstone Wonderland may be found in the Earl of Dunraven’s book, Hunting in the Yellowstone. This is an account of his trip through the Park in 1874. While camped at Mammoth Hot Springs he wrote: “Some of us went out hunting and brought in a good store of fat antelope ...”[286] If that entry strikes a note of discord because of present practice, observe the significance of the Earl’s record in describing the following Yellowstone camp:
In the afternoon we passed quite a patriarchal camp [near Sheepeater’s Cliff], composed of two men, with their Indian wives and several children; half a dozen powerful savage looking dogs and about fifty horses completed the party. They had been grazing their stock, hunting and trapping, leading a nomad, vagabond, and delicious life—a sort of mixed existence, half hunter, half herdsman, and had collected a great pile of deer hides and beaver skins. They were then on their way to settlements to dispose of their peltries, and to get stores and provisions; for they, too, were proceeding down the river or up the canon.[287]
Within the decade it became obvious to Park officials that the fauna would not long survive this savage onslaught from squaw men, professional gunners, fierce dogs, and expert scouts and guides vying for tourist patronage. Along with this realization came another discovery; soldiers in remote stations had formed enjoyable companionships with wilderness creatures. These lonely men were delighted by the universally charming wild life trait of responding with confidence and alacrity to friendly human advances. It became increasingly apparent to the officials that Yellowstone birds and mammals would quickly recognize overtures of friendship and protection. The idea was advanced that nearly every species in the Park might become as tame as range cattle if given an opportunity to move safely within rifle-shot for several years. Recommendations to that effect forwarded to the Secretary of the Interior by Superintendent Norris in 1879 were passed on to Congress, and they played an important part in the passage of legislation on March 3, 1883, under which the killing of game was first suppressed. In subsequent years the laws were strengthened and administration improved. This was the beginning of wild life conservation practice by the federal government. Since then the various species of native fauna have achieved a generally satisfactory balance. The Park’s policy of protection can definitely be credited with saving the grizzly bear from extinction, and the trumpeter swan is receiving his chance to survive. It may be too late in this case.
Today the alert tourist may reap the reward of that wise and fruitful policy in observing mountain sheep, antelope, mule deer, elk, moose, coyotes, marmot, and squirrels as they roam around in the Park. Indeed, the quiet but energetic visitor who ventures upon the forest trails may even see the rare sand-hill crane and trumpeter swan. Besides, he will frequently hear the passing whisper of the honker’s wing. Actually, he may “shoot” both birds and mammals with the camera and take home trophies of everlasting enjoyment.
The wildlife policy of the National Park Service has evolved gradually, and is based upon long experience in preserving areas of outstanding significance. It has been determined that animals shall not be encouraged to become dependent upon man, and their presentation to the public shall be wholly natural. Every species shall be left to carry on its struggle for existence unaided, unless it becomes endangered, and no management measure or interference with biotic relationships shall be undertaken prior to a properly conducted investigation. Numbers of animals must not be permitted to exceed the carrying capacity of the range available to them. Predator species will be given the same protection as all other animals, except in special instances where a prey species is in danger of extermination. These principles, and others, control the actions taken with respect to wildlife, and assure the continued existence of native wildlife in our National Parks.
Chapter XIV
GENERAL ADMINISTRATION
Nathaniel P. Langford was appointed Superintendent of Yellowstone National Park on May 10, 1872. No salary was allowed, but nothing daunted, on July 4 he arranged to join the Snake River detachment of Dr. F. V. Hayden’s second expedition. This party employed as guide one Richard Leigh, better known as “Beaver Dick.” This picturesque squaw man and his wife, Jenny, with her brood, not only acted as scout but also as friend and entertainer. “Beaver Dick” knew the Tetons and south Yellowstone country like a book, and he regaled the company with many tales of hair-raising experiences in the wilds. They were respectful in the presence of one of the last genuine frontiersmen of the West.
The new superintendent was characteristically indefatigable in his reconnaissance during this journey. Making personal side trips, he climbed the Grand Teton, called on Gilman Sawtelle at Henrys Lake, and joined Hayden in the Upper Geyser Basin by mid-August.[288] On this expedition the reports of much petrifaction along the East Fork of Yellowstone River (now called Lamar) were confirmed. Many trees were found that were filled with beautiful crystals of amethyst. Several species of trees that do not now grow in the Park were also found in a petrified state. Among these were magnolias, sycamores, aralias, oaks, and ferns in abundance. This, and subsequent investigations, disclosed an interesting story of climatic change. Obviously Tertiary flora was of a Southern type, and Yellowstone’s climate in that time was comparable to southern California’s today.[289]
Photo by IV H. Jackson
“Beaver Dick” (Richard Leigh) and family, 1871