That was positively all; but it was a wonderfully complete letter. I doubt if ever I see its like again; and the box fully justified the letter. The horns of the Suleiman Markhor seem to me the oddest and most desirable horns in the world; and if I could have but one pair out of the whole horned world, I think I would choose that kindafter the Siberian argali, the kudu, the Alaskan moose, wapiti, and arni. But they are by no means immense. They are 27 inches long, 10 inches in circumference, and the tips spread 19 inches. There are just eighteen other pairs on record. The horns of most other wild goats than the Markhor are rather insignificant. Excepting the Persian wild goat, which is really an ibex, the horns of the others are short, small, and plain. But the ibexes are different. The Siberian Ibex (Capra siberica) is the largest species of its genus, and the one most heavily horned. It dwells in western Mongolia, and is a superb creature. The largest horns in my allotment measure 45 inches, and are very massive, but they are not nearly so perfect or so beautiful as the somewhat smaller pair shown herewith. My handsomest ibex horns are from the head of a kingly Alpine Ibex (Capra ibex). The great size and absolute perfection of the knobs which rise on the front edge are particularly striking and unusual. There are others which are longer than these, but all things considered, I am reconciled to the fact that the longest on record, owned by the King of Italy, measure 44 inches in length, while mine measure only 26 inches. The horns of the Nubian Ibex (Capra nubiana) are recognizable at once by the perfect flatness of their inner surface, and rounded outside surface rather feebly studded with knobs. My largest pair is much too small, being only 38 inches long; whereas the largest of record has the grand length of 51 inches. (4) Africa is poorly furnished with wild sheep and ibex, and in deer that continent escapes total destitution only by the rare presence of one species in the Barbary States. In antelopes, however, her riches are almost beyond belief. The species number 133, and the variations in size, form, color, and horns are fairly bewildering. The big eland, weighing perhaps 1,500 pounds, is the largest; the sable antelope is the handsomest, the snake-necked gerenuk is the oddest. The Uganda duiker is the smallest. It is from 10 to 12 inches high at the shoulders, and its horns are 1 inches long. The Kudu is as large as a big European red deer stag, and in my opinion its horns are the most graceful and beautiful of all horns. In kudu horns, especially, length is of secondary importance in comparison with other features. A perfect pair must have a deep spiral, good thickness at the base, perfect symmetry, and must not spread too widely at the tips. I have owned several pairs, and seen a-many, but to me the pair figured herewith possesses unusual beauty and desirability. I value it at double the estimate for horns that are longer, but spread too widely at the tips, and are too straight for perfect beauty. They measure 54 inches along the curve, 39 inches in a straight line from base to tip, 18 inches between tips, and 10 in basal circumference. The largest pair of kudu horns recorded. in Mr. Rowland Ward's book is that owned by Mr. E. W. Thompson, and its measurements are 63 inches on the curve, 48 straight measurement, circumference 12, and between tips 49 inches. In Africa the Kudu is now so rarely captured that, although greatly desired alive, it has almost disappeared from zoological gardens. The severely straight horns of the Gemsbok (Oryx gazella) are quite satisfactory as to length, but one cannot help thinking how much handsomer they would be if Nature had curved them in any one of a dozen ways that were open to her. They are not at all beautiful, but they have their uses; and in fighting off leopards, hyenas, and wild dogs they are quite effective. The longest gemsbok horns have a length of 47 inches. The splendid Sable Antelope (Hippotragus niger) is, for its size, the proudestlooking and most showy of all hoofed animals. Its shoulders are very high, its neck and head are still higher, and its fine semicircle of horns fitly cap the climax of a very haughty animal. Its name is derived from its glossy-black coat. Its horns describe considerably more than one-third of a circle, in almost as true an arc as an en gineer could draw with a pair of dividers. They are strongly and evenly ringed, from the base to within a few inches of the tip. I could figure a pair that for length and size stand well up toward the head of the record list (45 inches on curve), but for symmetry and beauty they do not compare with a smaller pair. A horn may be so large as to be awe-inspiring, but if it lacks symmetry and beauty, why make too much of it? (5) The making of a good collection of deer antlers is a serious matter. The antlers of the members of the Deer Familyin which the moose and caribou are included-call upon the collector for abundant wall space, a long purse, and some judgment in making selections. The rarest of all deer antlers are those of David's Deer, formerly of north-eastern China, but as to its wild state it is now said by an official of the Royal Household at Pekin to be totally extinct. In captivity there are now about nineteen individuals, and the margin between that species and total extinction is very narrow. David's Deer is an animal of unusual interest. It is as large as the red deer of Europe, of a bluish-gray color, and it is possessed of a long, gnu-like tail. As a rule, each antler has two main beams, one of which is very long and reaches far back, and another thrusts forward and divides half-way up into two branches of nearly equal length. Whenever seen, these antlers are instantly recognizable; but I have known two good collectors to seek them diligently for several years without obtaining a single pair. In the interest of the writer, Captain Thomas Golding, of the steamer Afridi, ransacked the sea-ports of China and Japan, one voyage after another, without even hearing of a pair. Mr. Frederick Sauter finally had an expert carver of Stuttgart carve a pair in wood, in exact facsimile of a pair in the museum of that city. But in no legitimate game of life does luck figure more effectively as a factor than in the pursuit of horns. A man with many enemies always needs a long purse; but good-will often wins horns when money fails ignominiously. I rejoice in the possession of a pair of antlers of David's Deer; and besides these, and the pair recently acquired by Mr. Gilfort, I believe there are no others in America. Naturally, I class them with the rarest of the rare. As deer antlers go, I think those of the Thameng, or Eld's Deer, of Burma (Cervus eldi) have the oddest shape. The main beam sweeps back à la Barren Ground caribou, but the brow tine thrusts straight forward, fully twelve inches from the burr, before it curves up. While the antlers are in the velvet, and only about a month along, the 10-inch brow tine and 10-inch main beam growing in opposite directions from the burr, and both of a pinkish-yellow colo, give the wearer a very odd appearance. About nineteen persons out of every twenty find it difficult to believe that such long and massive antlers as those of moose, caribou, elk, and sambar actually are dropped every year, and completely renewed. But this is one of the commonest and most easily-proven facts in natural history. The antlers of the American elk, fifty inches long, grow out to their full length in about four months, sometimes adding to their length at the rate of half an inch per day. The shedding and renewal of deer antlers take place in the breeding season, and when the young are born the stags are practically powerless to molest them. In view of the quarrelsome and domineering temper of nearly every adult male deer when his horns are new and in fighting trim, no wiser provision could have been made for the immunity of helpless does and fawns. It is not strange that the desire for the horns and heads of great game animals should at times be catered to by the American fakir, whom, like the poor of holy writ, we have with us always. But, fortunately for honest people, the “faking" of horns is in most cases impossible. It is decidedly risky to the party of the first part, and almost certain to be found out. Two young taxidermists of my acquaintance once came to grief by a clumsy and foolish attempt at grafting one pair of elk antlers upon another to secure great length of beam. Faked "death-lock" antlers are becoming so common that no collector need be without a pair. Whenever a pair is offered you for inspection, note whether or not the opposing antlers have rubbed each other at their points of contact. If they have not, then the antlers were interlocked by the interposition of hot water and wooden wedges. It is becoming rather common for Ovis poli horns from Tibet to be mounted by using "scalps" of the white sheep of Alaska. This is so cheap a fraud it is a wonder that any man will, through it, deliberately throw away his reputation. And yet, one case of that kind occurred in Chicago, and quite recently another broke out in Colorado. The drollest of all faked horns, however, appeared in a New York magazine about four years ago. An enterprising assistant subeditor, having more ink than experience, decided he would make up an article about "Big-Game Hunting with a Camera." So he obtained a nom de plume, a lot of animal photographs taken in the New York and Washington Zoological Parks, some ink, pens, and paper, mixed them thoroughly, and made an article. It was an unqualified thriller, and the climax came to his adventures borne on the horns of a female white-tailed deer! He related that after several daily pettings of the fawn of the aforesaid doe-while she was gadding about making calls-she suddenly returned to her flat, caught him unawares, charged him repeatedly, smashed his (imaginary) camera, and in her final charge missed him and buried her horns in a tree! It was pitiful. A good collection of deer antlers reveals many things that furnish food for thought. Here is one: Before me, in a place of honor, hang a long, wide-spreading, and massive pair of elk antlers which represent a remarkable fact in natural history. Every person in America might look long at them, and see in them only a fine pair of head ornaments from the forehead of a big Wyoming elk, about ten years old. No doubt many a visitor has found it difficult to believe that those antlers came not from a Wyoming Elk, but from an Elk of the Altai Mountains, in Central Asia. Fully 7,000 miles separate the Wapiti of the Altai from the Wapiti of Wyoming; but if twenty living specimens of each were united in one herd, the only characters on which they might be separated correctly would be the cold, steelgray color of the Asiatic animals in slight contrast with the warmer body color of their American relatives. The utmost that can be conceded to the Altai Wapiti is that it is a subspecies of the longer-known animal of America. temperate zone form a progressive series. Starting with the small antlers of the Red Deer of Scotland, where Cervus elaphus reaches its lowest ebb, the size gradually increases to the robust Red Deer of Germany. Beyond that we find the distinctly larger and handsomer, but very similar, Maral Deer of the Caucasus. The transition from the big Maral Deer to the Altai Wapiti, of western Mongolia, is natural and easy. After that, however, we are confronted by a gap 7,000 miles wide between the Altai and American Wapiti-two species which are as much alike as two bronze elk that have been cast in the same mould. The close relationship-if not even the absolute identity-of the two Wapiti, is unmistakable; and the only question is, how did the great break become so wide and so absolute after the original migration from Central Asia? It is fairly certain that the Wapiti originated in Central Asia, for we see offshoots radiating into Europe, America, and India. The Kashmir Stag (C. cashmirianus), the Yarkand Stag (C. yarcandensis), the Shou (C. affinis), and the Indian Sambar (C. unicolor), surely are direct lineal descendants of the Altai Wapiti-no more, no less. And here is another point: While nearly all the deer of the Old World are tied together by visible cords of relationship, the White-Tailed Deer of North and Middle America seem to stand quite alone. Their antlers drop far forward, and their branches grow straight up from them like new shoots rising from a horizontal parent stem. The antlers of our Mule Deer, or Rocky Mountain "Black-Tail," are a puzzle. In their architecture they strongly resemble those of the Swamp Deer of India (Cervus duvauceli), but the latter have greater length. At present, the deer of many portions of Mexico, Central and South America are very imperfectly known; and if American sportsmen and travellers in those regions will but take the trouble to collect antlers (with or without skulls), carefully labelled as to their localities, much light would be shed on what is now a dark subject. A collection of antlers of American deer, ranging from the tiny Guemal of Chili, with a beam length of only 4 inches, to the The antlers of the Old World deer of the largest White-Tailed Deer of Minnesota, reveals a marvellously perfect chain of development, or retrogression, whichever way it may be viewed. South of Texas and northern Mexico the antlers of all deer rapidly diminish in size and points. The horns of the genus Odocoileus (the WhiteTailed Deer) culminate in Minnesota. The Mule Deer grows largest in Colorado, Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana, but in southern Alaska the true Black-Tailed Deer (of the Pacific Coast only) diminishes to a comparatively insignificant animal, with antlers that are small and weak. The South American deer generally are very little known, and their antlers are rare in most horn collections with which I am acquainted. Those of the Chilian Guemal are so uncommon that Mr. Rowland Ward's horn book does not record even one pair. The specimen figured herewith was collected in Chili by Mr. Robert Gilfort, of Orange, N. J., whose horn collection is wonderfully full, and very nearly complete for the horned animals of the entire world. During the past twenty-five years or more the best-antlered Moose of Canada, Maine, and New Brunswick have been diligently shot out; and this special selection-for destruction—has resulted in a steady deterioration in the antlers of the Moose of those regions. So strikingly large were the largest of the bull Moose recently killed in Alaska, the animals of that region have been accorded rank as a new species, based solely on the size of the largest males. I think it is absolutely certain that the continued killing of the finest and bestantlered elk, moose, caribou, and deer, leaving only immature stock to breed from, will soon result in animals with small antlers, and of smaller size than the herd kings of thirty years ago. If I am not mistaken, we will shortly witness, on account of headhunting, a marked decrease in the height, weight, and general excellence of the elk of the Yellowstone Park. It is now a difficult matter to buy specimens of European red deer that are large, lusty, heavy-horned animals. The Woodland Caribou of Maine, Newfoundland, and eastern Canada generally, we long have known; but the big Woodland Caribou of the North-west are a revelation of but yesterday. Between Revelstoke and Cook Inlet three new species have been described, all large, heavily ant lered and commanding. They are the Mountain Caribou of Revelstoke, Osborn's Caribou of the Stickine River country, and the Kenai Caribou of the Kenai Peninsula and northward thereof. In size they all surpass the caribou of eastern Canada, almost as the moose surpasses the elk. After two years of effort to secure antlers of the large species of Alaskan Caribou,and vain appeals to museums for even one pair in exchange, a pair from the head of the king of Alaskan Caribou fell to me as if from the clouds. They came from the Kenai Peninsula; they outmeasure nearly all other antlers of American Caribou that have thus far been recorded, and their dimensions are as follows: Length, 584 inches; widest spread, 394 inches; between tips, 30 inches; circumference above first tine, 8 inches; weight, 33 pounds; points, 40. After all has been said about the horns of the world's greatest horned animals, there are positively none that equal in impressiveness the gigantic mass that crowns the head of a really big Alaskan Moose. Take them in situ, as the geologists say, on the head of their rightful owner, and in length, breadth, and thickness they inspire in the mind of every intelligent human being a feeling of genuine awe. I do not see how even an intelligent dog or horse can behold a pair of 70-inch moose antlers without being profoundly impressed. The antler springs horizontally from an upper corner of the head, on a stem of solid bone that is like the trunk of a hickory sapling. A foot or so from the burr it throws off toward the front, quite gratuitously as it were, two or three big spears of bone that are of much use in a fight. As soon as there is room for real development, the main stem flattens out into an enormous slab of bone, perhaps two inches in thickness, from twelve to eighteen inches wide, and from two to three feet long. This is the "palmation," and a very appropriate name it is, too; for in the centre it is hollowed like a human palm, and studded along its upper edge with from six to twelve fingers and thumbs of solid bone. In sheer exuberance of strength, and excess of horn material, an Alaskan moose antler occasionally throws off from the lower surface of its palm, or it may be from the front of the beam, a big, rugged spurroot of bone, which always has an extra 1. Littledale's Sheep (Ovis siarensis) from western Mongolia. 2. The Takin (Budorcas taxicolor) from south-western China 3. Suleiman Markhor (Capra falconeri jerdoni) from eastern Afghanistan. 4. Fère David's Deer (Cervus davidianus). Formerly of China; now extinct throughout its native range. impressive effect on the beholder. The largest antlers of Alaskan Moose are in the Field Museum, at Chicago. They have a spread of 78 inches, and weigh 93 pounds. Naturally, a mounted head of a big male Alaskan Moose is a costly luxury to purchase, a ponderously heavy thing to handle and to hang, but a soul-filler when finally installed. For such a specimen, Mr. William Barbour paid $700; and to hang it securely he had bolts passed entirely through the wall of his house. In the American Museum, a moose head that was being taken down to be photographed fell upon one of the workmen and killed him. The passage of the Alaskan game law, prohibiting the killing of big game for commercial purposes, has effectually estopped the wholesale slaughter of Moose for heads to sell, and at the same time has greatly enhanced the cash value of all Alaskan moose heads outside the pale of the law. It is no longer possible for one house to bring together in New York, as was done two years |