Arizona Sketches [8]
water can support there is bound to be some loss. In stocking a range an estimate should be made of its carrying capacity in a bad year rather than in a good one, as no range can safely carry more cattle than it can support in the poorest year; like a chain, it is no stronger than its weakest link.
A good range is sometimes destroyed by the prairie dog. Wherever he establishes a colony the grass soon disappears. He burrows in the ground and a group of such holes is called a dog town. Like the jack-rabbit he can live without water and is thus able to keep his hold on the desert. The only way to get rid of him is to kill him, which is usually done by the wholesale with poison. His flesh is fine eating, which the Navajo knows if the white man does not. The Navajo considers him a dainty morsel which is particularly relished by the sick. If a patient can afford the price, he can usually procure a prairie dog in exchange for two sheep.
The Navajo is an adept at capturing this little animal. The hunter places a small looking-glass near the hole and, in concealment near by, he patiently awaits developments. When the prairie dog comes out of his hole to take an airing he immediately sees his reflection in the glass and takes it
for an intruder. In an instant he is ready for a fight and pounces upon his supposed enemy to kill or drive him away. While the prairie dog is thus engaged wrestling with his shadow or reflection the hunter shoots him at close range with his bow and arrow--never with a gun, for if wounded by a bullet he is sure to drop into his hole and is lost, but the arrow transfixes his body and prevents him from getting away. He has been hunted so much in the Navajo country that he has become very scarce.[1]
[1] This statement is made on the authority of Mr. F. W. Volz, who lives at Canon Diablo, and is familiar with the customs of the Navajos.
Much of the ranch country in southern Arizona is destitute of trees, and shade, therefore, is scarce. Upon the high mountains and plateaus of northern Arizona there are great forests of pine and plenty of shade. But few cattle range there in comparison to the large numbers that graze on the lower levels further south. What little tree growth there is on the desert is stunted and supplies but scant shade. In the canons some large cottonwood, sycamore and walnut trees can be found; upon the foot hills the live oak and still higher up the mountain the pine. Cattle always seek the shade and if there are no trees they will lie down in the shade of a bush or anything that casts a shadow. The cattle are so eager for shade that if they can find nothing better they will crowd into the narrow ribbon of shade that is cast by a columnar cactus or telegraph pole and seem to be satisfied with ever so little if only shade is touched.
Twenty years ago before there were many cattle on the southwestern range, the gramma grass stood knee high everywhere all over that country and seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of feed for an unlimited number of cattle during an indefinite term of years. It was not many years, however, after the large herds were turned loose on the range until the grass was all gone and the ground, except in a few favored spots, left nearly as bare of grass as the traveled road. At the present time whatever grass there is must grow each year which, even in a favorable year, is never heavy. If the summer rains fail, no grass whatever can grow and the cattle are without feed. The grass about the springs and water holes is first to disappear and then the cattle must go farther and farther from water to find any grass. When cattle are compelled to travel over long distances in going from grass to water, they naturally grow thin from insufficient food and are worn out by the repeated long journeys. A cow that is thin and weak will postpone making the trip as long as possible-- two, three and even four days in the hottest weather she will wait before attempting the trip. At last, when the poor creature reaches water, she is so famished
A good range is sometimes destroyed by the prairie dog. Wherever he establishes a colony the grass soon disappears. He burrows in the ground and a group of such holes is called a dog town. Like the jack-rabbit he can live without water and is thus able to keep his hold on the desert. The only way to get rid of him is to kill him, which is usually done by the wholesale with poison. His flesh is fine eating, which the Navajo knows if the white man does not. The Navajo considers him a dainty morsel which is particularly relished by the sick. If a patient can afford the price, he can usually procure a prairie dog in exchange for two sheep.
The Navajo is an adept at capturing this little animal. The hunter places a small looking-glass near the hole and, in concealment near by, he patiently awaits developments. When the prairie dog comes out of his hole to take an airing he immediately sees his reflection in the glass and takes it
for an intruder. In an instant he is ready for a fight and pounces upon his supposed enemy to kill or drive him away. While the prairie dog is thus engaged wrestling with his shadow or reflection the hunter shoots him at close range with his bow and arrow--never with a gun, for if wounded by a bullet he is sure to drop into his hole and is lost, but the arrow transfixes his body and prevents him from getting away. He has been hunted so much in the Navajo country that he has become very scarce.[1]
[1] This statement is made on the authority of Mr. F. W. Volz, who lives at Canon Diablo, and is familiar with the customs of the Navajos.
Much of the ranch country in southern Arizona is destitute of trees, and shade, therefore, is scarce. Upon the high mountains and plateaus of northern Arizona there are great forests of pine and plenty of shade. But few cattle range there in comparison to the large numbers that graze on the lower levels further south. What little tree growth there is on the desert is stunted and supplies but scant shade. In the canons some large cottonwood, sycamore and walnut trees can be found; upon the foot hills the live oak and still higher up the mountain the pine. Cattle always seek the shade and if there are no trees they will lie down in the shade of a bush or anything that casts a shadow. The cattle are so eager for shade that if they can find nothing better they will crowd into the narrow ribbon of shade that is cast by a columnar cactus or telegraph pole and seem to be satisfied with ever so little if only shade is touched.
Twenty years ago before there were many cattle on the southwestern range, the gramma grass stood knee high everywhere all over that country and seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of feed for an unlimited number of cattle during an indefinite term of years. It was not many years, however, after the large herds were turned loose on the range until the grass was all gone and the ground, except in a few favored spots, left nearly as bare of grass as the traveled road. At the present time whatever grass there is must grow each year which, even in a favorable year, is never heavy. If the summer rains fail, no grass whatever can grow and the cattle are without feed. The grass about the springs and water holes is first to disappear and then the cattle must go farther and farther from water to find any grass. When cattle are compelled to travel over long distances in going from grass to water, they naturally grow thin from insufficient food and are worn out by the repeated long journeys. A cow that is thin and weak will postpone making the trip as long as possible-- two, three and even four days in the hottest weather she will wait before attempting the trip. At last, when the poor creature reaches water, she is so famished