HUNTING CHAMOIS
Chamois hunting at the present day does not amount to much for the ordinary hunter, for the simple reason that the little animal is becoming very scarce. The headquaters of the chamois are in the Swiss and Austrian Alps and when one considers how small those countries are and how thickly settled with gun-loving people, it is not surprising that the splendid little game-creature should have all but vanished out of many sections.
A number of the mountains are, what you might call, game preserves, and there, of course, the chamois is protected lives and breeds, and is not shot to any very great extent. Hans Breit, a famous hunter, who probably knows more of the chamois than any man in Europe, gives this account of the methods of hunting. In the first place there is an idea in the mind of people that the chamois is easy to get at, and can be "driven" like grouse or English pheasants, but this is all wrong. The chamois is remarkably keen sighted and its sense of smell is equal good. These two qualities alone would make the hunting of any animal difficult, but when to these are added the chamois' love of high and unreachable places and the consequent danger in following it, it is easy to see that only men of strong nerve and cool head can undertake the shooting.
On one occasion Hans spied a band of cham^ois coming down a mountain side to drink. He felt sure that nothing would alarm them so he set off with all haste, seeking the cover of rock and shadows and keeping down wind from the game. Slowly the herd come on, lead by a fine male with good horns. But it was not long before the leader became suspicious. It halted stamped its feet and sniffed the air suspiciously. But nothing stirred so the band came down to the water and all drank except the leader who stayed on watch. This was Hans' chance and slowly rising to his knees he laid his gun flat on top of a low rock, and waited. The chamois leader was standing head on to him. He whistled softly and the creature turned at once to look, thus exposing its side. Bang went the gun and when the smoke had cleared away the band was seen running across the rocks in big leaps and bounds. But the leader had fallen behind it was wounded. An instant later it lost its footing and rolled out of sight. Hans ran to the edge of the rocks and saw the line made in the snow where the body had fallen. An hour later he reached his prize which he found stone dead.
All hunters and travellers bear witness to the wonderful manner in which the chamois makes its way over the roughest ground. It seems to literally skim through the air. Hans said that on one accasion he slightly wounded a chamois and failed to get a second shot before it was off. He
