Where Hunting Happens, Conservation Happens™
Grancel Fitz photographed this old, three-tusked walrus before 1960. The background on this specific beast hasn’t survived the test of time, but we know a little about three-tusked walruses. First, they are rare. The condition occurs in less than one in 1,000 walruses, according to a 2014 article in the Anchorage Daily News. Rumor has it that some walruses can grow two extra tusks, but we couldn’t dig up any of those from the archive. We’ll have to be happy with a photo of ol’ tripod.
Behold the coolest (and strangest) remaining head from the nucleus collection of the National Collection of Heads and Horns, which numbered more than 800 specimens in 1916.
The Melk head was donated to the collection in 1910 by Mrs. Archibald Rogers, wife of Colonel Archibald Rogers, who likely killed this bull sometime in the late 1800s. Rogers was a pioneer of ice-yachting, which, as the name suggests, involves a sailboat fitted with runners, allowing it to speed across frozen lakes. His other passion was hunting. Col. Rogers made dozens of trips to the West to hunt at the turn of the twentieth century. In his books, Hunting North American Big Game and Hunting, he wrote about his adventures. He died at the age of 76. A New York Times article from 1928 stated he died of injuries sustained when a dog caused him to lose control of his car.
What kind of sheep and what causes this to happen? We reached out to a number of sheep biologists, but no one had seen anything like this half-Princess Leia-like ram. Kevin Hurley, a B&C Club Professional Member and vice-president of conservation at the Wild Sheep Foundation, could only guess that something damaged the core of the horn when this ram was young. Maybe it was a bad sinus infection or a parasite that entered the ram’s snout and never left. Either way, it makes for one heck of a conversation piece—or portal to another dimension.
Technically, this one isn’t from our archives, but this occurred only 250 miles from B&C headquarters. We figure that’s close enough.
In 1923, Joe McKelvey was a park ranger in Montana’s Glacier National Park. He came upon a haunting scene in the vicinity of Many Glacier Hotel. The following excerpt is from a July 16, 1923, article from the local newspaper, The Daily Inter Lake.
“In a thicket about three miles north, Mr. McKelvey ran across the skeleton of a moose and upon closer investigation, found parts of a human skeleton, which clearly showed that some hunter years ago had shot and wounded a moose and then been killed by the animal. Close by was found a Springfield 45-70 rifle with the breech open, and a shell which had stuck told how the hunter had lost his life. He had evidently fought to a finish for a broken knife (that) was found on the ground.
“Old-timers in the vicinity of the park are of the opinion the skeleton is that of a French-Canadian trapper who disappeared about 18 years ago, but none remember his name. There is no doubt that the man lost his life a long time ago, for the bones are bleached and the rubber shoes which the hunter was wearing are badly weather-worn.”
They’re called cactus or stag bucks, and the reason behind their crazy antlers is as heinous as their headgear. Alterations in testosterone levels cause their condition because of testicular trauma, undescended testicles, or disease that affects the blood supply to the testicles. The photo of this cactus buck was sent to B&C headquarters in 1939 but was never entered into the records.
Every once in a while, a hunter takes a trophy that can only be identified as a freak. That is, one or both antlers may not have a discernible main beam or any normal points on one or both antlers, and cannot be scored using B&C’s scoring system. Such trophies are not eligible for entry in B&C’s/P&Y’s Records program but will be reviewed by the Records Committee on a case-by-case basis.
"The wildlife and its habitat cannot speak. So we must and we will."
-Theodore Roosevelt