2014-08-11 15:33:05 UTC
Late in the afternoon, we pass to the left, around a sharp point,
which is somewhat broken down near the foot, and discover a flock of
mountain sheep on the rocks, more than a hundred feet above us. We
quickly land in a cove, out of sight, and away go all the hunters with
their guns, for the sheep have not discovered us. Soon, we hear
firing, and those of us who have remained in the boats climb up to see
what success the hunters have had. One sheep has been killed, and two
of the men are still pursuing them. In a few minutes, we hear firing
again, and the next moment down come the flock, clattering over the
rocks, within twenty yards of us. One of the hunters seizes his gun,
and brings a second sheep down, and the next minute the remainder of
the flock is lost behind the rocks. We all give chase; but it is
impossible to follow their tracks over the naked rock, and we see them
no more. Where they went out of this rock walled cañyon is a mystery,
for we can see no way of escape. Doubtless, if we could spare the time
for a search, we could find some gulch up which they ran.
We lash our prizes to the deck of one of the boats, and go on for a
short distance; but fresh meat is too tempting for us, and we stop
early to have a feast. And a feast it is! Two fine, young sheep. We
care not for bread, or beans, or dried apples to night; coffee and
mutton is all we ask.
- J. W. Powell, Exploration of the Colorado River of the West and its
Tributaries (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1875), 66.