Crossing the
high plateau we followed the valley of the Killy River, keeping well up
and skirting the bases of the mountain summits. As we trudged along, the
shrill cries of alarm of the whistling marmots were heard, and the
little fellows could be seen in all directions scampering for their
holes. Ptarmigan were also frequently met with, but not in such great
numbers as one would have supposed in a region where they had never been
hunted. On several occasions we found these birds on the highest summits
where there was nothing but rocks covered with black moss. It would have
been interesting to have shot one of them and learned upon what they
were then feeding, but it was just in the locality where we hoped to
find rams, and this was out of the question. That morning we traveled
some distance before we saw sheep, but having once reached their feeding
ground I had the satisfaction of watching more wild game than on any
previous day.
The Kussiloff hills were dotted with scattered bands, and I counted in
one large flock forty-eight, while the long and narrow valley on both
sides of the stream was sprinkled with smaller bunches containing from
two or three to twenty.
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