At daylight the next day we started for the spot where the turkey-tracks had been seen; the snow was melted off the low ground, but still lay thick on the cedar and piñon ridges, and in patches on the bottoms.
On arriving at the place we took the trail, and soon ran it to a ridge-top, covered with piñon-trees, on the nuts of which the turkeys had been feeding. Here the tracks spread in all directions, since the turkeys had wandered about, each on his own hook, searching for nuts, and, to double the chances of finding them, we also separated, one going up, the other down, the ridge,—going, too, very carefully, for wild turkeys are the most wary of all birds, and require to be hunted with, if possible, more caution than do deer. And we knew not the moment when we might come upon our game, as it was highly probable they were close at hand; for turkeys, if unmolested, daily frequent the same range of feeding-ground, until it is exhausted of food. By and by I came to where eight of the straggling birds had come together and started off again in company. The drove had evidently separated into two or more lots, and I followed the eight turkeys for many miles and for many hours without seeing fresh sign, until at length I came to the edge of a precipitous cliff overlooking a wide part of the valley, the river flowing just below me, and a large grove of big cottonwood-trees in a bottom not far away.
Evidently I was at the place from which the turkeys had flown off the night before to go to roost. I quickly descended, and, going under the cottonwood-trees, searched in the tangle and jungle for sign of their having roosted above, and soon satisfied myself that they had done so. The next step necessary was to discover where the turkeys had alighted in the morning; but this might entail a long search, and, as it was already past noon, I sat down to rest, eat the luncheon I had provided myself with, and come to some conclusion as to which direction I had best choose to make my first cast in.
I had not proceeded far on my way again, when I came suddenly upon a “sign” that arrested my attention and raised hope in my breast,—the tracks of a big fat buck! He had crossed the river-bottom diagonally, and his trail plainly told me all about him: the great width of and the distance between his tracks proclaimed his sex and size, and their depth in the ground his weight. He had been going at an easy trot; the glaze on them was bright, their edges unbroken; not a speck of drifted dust was on them; they were as fresh as new paint. They were not an hour old.
In imagination I smelt roasted venison, and instantly started in pursuit. I followed on the tracks until within an hour of sunset, but never got even a glimpse of the deer; and by that time his trail had brought me to the bank of a stream flowing down one of the side valleys. The buck browsing here and there, but never stopping long in one place, had led me a wide circuit through and over valley and ridges. He had not seen or smelled me, however, since none of his movements showed that he had been alarmed.
The stream, at the place where the deer’s track led to it, was unusually wide, consequently slack in current, and therefore frozen over. The snow still lay on the ice, and the buck’s track, where he had crossed, looked but just made. The ice seemed firm, and I started to cross the creek. About ten feet from shore, bang through I went, waist deep, into the cold water, and broke and scrambled my way back with great difficulty, and with noise enough to frighten into a gallop any wild animal that might be within a quarter of a mile of me.
It was very disagreeable, very annoying, and very cold; and my clothes beginning to freeze on me, I started for camp at a brisk walk.
Just as the sun was going down I passed near to where the turkeys had flown off to roost. It struck me that by watching there a short time I might see them return to the same or a neighboring roost, knowing they often do so. This, however, was very cold work, my clothes being in a half-dried, half-frozen condition; and I was just going to give it up, when I heard the faint distant report of a rifle. The sound redoubled my attention, since I supposed that game was stirring.
In a few minutes I heard the quick sharp alarm call of the turkey, the unmistakable pit-pit, and saw four of them sail off from the edge of the cliff, at about sixty yards’ distance from me, into the top branches of the trees forming one of the groups in the valley below. Drawing gently back, and keeping as much as possible under cover, I made my way down into the valley, and started in the direction of the grove of trees in which the turkeys had settled.
It was getting dark, and I had gone but a short way, when, at a distance of about two hundred yards in front, a most extraordinary-looking object presented itself to my view. It looked like a haycock on legs with the handle of a pitchfork sticking out of it; it was steadily advancing through the gloom to where I stood, and arrived quite close to me before I could quite make out what it was. It proved to be my companion, with two turkeys tied together by the legs and slung over his shoulder across his rifle. The wind coming up the valley and blowing the feathers out in all directions had given the turkeys in the gloaming the extraordinary appearance that had astonished me so much. I gave a low whistle, and he joined me; I pointed to the turkeys in the trees. He dropped those he already had, hung them up out of wolf reach, and together we cautiously crept under the four roosting turkeys.