University of Virginia Library

HAMSTRINGING THE BUFFALO.

The experience of our first buffalo-hunt satisfied
us that the rifle was not the most effective instrument
in destroying the animal. The time consumed
in loading the rifle is sufficient for an Indian to shoot
several arrows, while the arrow more quickly kills
than the bullet. As the little party to which I was
attached had more notions of fun than any particular
method of hunting, a day was set apart for a buffalo
hunt, “Ta-wa-ki-na fashion,” and for this purpose
rifles were laid aside, and poles about seven feet
long, with razor blades fastened on them a few
inches from the end, so as to form a fork, were taken
in their place. Arriving in the vicinity of the buffalo,
those who were disposed entered into the sport

pellmell. Like a faithful squire I kept close at the
heels of “Breeches,” who soon brought a fine young
heifer bellowing to the ground. As the animal uttered
sounds of pain, one or two fierce-looking bulls that
gallantly followed in the rear, exposing themselves to
attack to preserve the weaker members of the herd,
stopped short for an instant, and eyed us with most
unpleasant curiosity. This roused the knight of the
deer skin, Breeches, and brandishing his stick over
his head with a remarkable degree of dexterity, he
dashed off as if determined to slay both at once.
My two companions who started out, Ta-wa-ki-nas,
had done but little execution, not understanding
their work, or alarmed at so near an approach of the
animals they wounded, without bringing them to the
earth. As “Breeches” dashed on after the bulls,
he severally crossed the route of all who were on
the chase; and as he was unquestionably the hero of
the day, all followed in his train, determined to see
hamstringing done scientifically.

It is a singular fact in the formation of the buffalo,
and the familiar cattle of the farm-yard, that, although
so much alike in general appearance, the
domesticated animals will, after being hamstrung,
run long distances. The buffalo, on the contrary,
the moment the tendon is severed, falls to the ground
entirely helpless, and perfectly harmless beyond the
reach of its horns. A very short chase in company
with “Breeches” brought us up to one of the bulls;
he poised his stick, thrust it forward, and the tendo
Achillis, full of life and full of action, was touched
by the sharp blade; its tension, as it sustained the

immense bull in his upward leaps, made it, when
severed, spring back as will the breaking string of
the harp; and the helpless beast, writhing in pain,
came to the ground. One of our party witnessing
this exhibition, gave an exulting shout, and declared
he would bring a buffalo down, or break his neck;
he soon came beside a venerable bull, and as he
made repeated thrusts, a thousand directions were
given as to the manner of proceeding. The race
was a well-contested one, the heels of the pursued
animal were strangely accelerated by the thrusts
made at him in his rear. A lunge was finally accomplished
by the “Ta-wa-ki-na,” that almost threw
him from his horse; the fearful cut brought the huge
bull directly under the rider's feet; the next instant
the noble steed was impaled upon the buffalo's horns,
and the unfortunate rider lay insensible on the
ground. The wrong hamstring, in the excitement,
had been cut, the animal always falling on the
wounded side. We hastened to our unfortunate companion,
chafed his temples, and brought him to his
senses. The first question he asked was, “whereabouts
the buffalo struck him.” Happily, save the
loss of a generous steed, no great damage was done.
The “Ta-wa-ki-na” acknowledged hamstringing
buffalo was as contemptible as it was thought to be
by the Cumanche chief. Thus ended this novel and
barbarian hunt, that afforded incidents for many
rough jokes, and amusing reflections on hamstringing
buffaloes.

As a reward for these frontier sports, it is but just
to say that we feasted plentifully upon buffalo steaks,

marrow bones, humps, and tongues, yet we were not
satisfied. There was a waste of life and of food accompanying
the hunting of the animal, that, like an
ever-present spirit of evil, took away from our enjoyment
that zest which is necessary to make it a
favourite sport.