by Jean M. Auel
“But how far away are they?” Joharran asked. “We have to walk. The rest of us don’t have horses to ride.”
“Not very far, the surround was made by the Third Cave. It isn’t that far from here. You could get there without too much trouble,” Ayla said. “If you’d rather hunt bison, you can, Joharran.”
“Actually, big brother, you could hunt both,” Jondalar said.
“We’re here now, and a deer in your sight is worth much more than two bison in a distant surround,” Joharran said. “But if this doesn’t take too long, we may try for the bison later. Now, do you want to join the hunt?”
“Yes,” Jondalar said.
“I do,” Ayla said at nearly the same time. “Let’s tie the horses to that tree over there, by the stream, Jondalar. Maybe I should tie a restraint on Wolf, too. He can get excited about hunting and may want to ‘help,’ but that could be a problem for the other hunters, or he could get in the way if he’s not sure what to do.”
While the decisions were made about tactics, Ayla studied the small herd, especially the stag. Ayla remembered the first time she saw a fully developed, mature megaceros stag. This giant deer was much the same. Somewhat taller than a horse at the withers, though certainly not as big as a mammoth, they were called giant deer because they were the most imposing of all the varieties of deer. But it wasn’t the size of the animal itself that made them so impressive, it was the size of their antlers. Each one of the massive, palm-shaped, deciduous horns that emerged from their heads grew larger each year and in a mature male could reach twelve feet in length.
Ayla visualized the length of one antler as two men the size of Jondalar, with one standing on the other’s shoulders. The size of their antlers precluded the forested habitat that was often preferred by many of their cousins; the megaceros were deer of the open plains. Although they ate grass, especially the green tops of the tall grass varieties, and grazed more than other deer, they also browsed on young brush and trees and leafy herbaceous plants near streams when they could.
Once giant deer reached their full growth, though their bones no longer enlarged, the enormous growing antlers added to the illusion that megaceros stags increased in height and breadth with each season. Support of such huge racks required the deer to develop massive shoulder and neck muscles, which did increase slightly over time to accommodate the greater weight of the enlarging antlers, and to evolve a distinctive hump on their withers where muscles, tendons, and connective tissue bunched together. It was a genetic manifestation of the species. Even the females had a marked, though smaller, hump. Such enormous musculature, however, made the heads of the megaceros seem small, and those males that sported immense racks had heads that appeared disproportionately petite.
While the leaders were discussing tactics, the disguises were taken out, then Joharran and several others passed around skin bags of grease. Ayla crinkled her nose in distaste at the smell.
“It’s made from the musk glands in the legs of the deer, and mixed with fat from just above the tail,” Jondalar told her. “It covers our scent in case the wind shifts suddenly.”
Ayla nodded and began smearing the greasy mixture on her arms and underarms and her legs and groin. While Jondalar was putting on his deer disguise, Ayla struggled with hers.
“Let me show you,” Kareja said. She was already in hers.
Ayla smiled gratefully as the woman showed her how to wear the capelike hide covering with a deer head still attached. She picked up the antlers that were fastened to a separate headpiece, though she didn’t understand what the extra wooden parts were for.
“This is heavy!” Ayla said, surprised at the weight when she put on the antler headwear.
“And they’re small ones, from a young buck. You don’t want that big stag to think you are competition,” Kareja said.
“How does it stay balanced when you move?” Ayla said, trying to shift the antlers to a better position.
“That’s what these are for,” Kareja said, using the wooden supports to prop up the ungainly headdress.
“No wonder the megaceros have such big necks,” Ayla said. “They need muscles just to hold these things up.”
The hunters aproached with the wind blowing in their faces, which carried the human scent away from the deer’s sensitive noses. They stopped when they could see the animals. The giant deer were browsing on the tender young leaves of low-growing brush.
“Watch them,” Jondalar said softly. “See how they eat for a while, then look up? Then they move a few steps forward and start to feed again. We’re going to copy their motions. Take a few steps toward them, then dip your head, just as though you were a deer who had just seen some juicy new leaves and stopped to take a bite. Then look up. Stand perfectly still while you are looking up. Don’t look at him directly, but keep your eye on that big stag, and don’t move at all when you see him looking at you.
“Now we’re going to spread out in the same pattern they make. We want them think we’re just another herd of deer while we get close to them. Keep your spears out of sight as much as possible. Hold them upright behind your antlers while you move, and don’t move too fast,” he explained.
Ayla listened intently to the instructions. This was interesting. She had spent years watching wild creatures, especially carnivores, but also animals she hunted. She had studied them closely, absorbing every detail. She taught herself to track them and finally taught herself to hunt them, but she had never pretended to be an animal before. She first watched the rest of the hunters, then carefully observed the deer.
Growing up learning to understand the gestures and movements of the Clan gave her an edge. She had a keen eye for detail, for the smallest movements made by the animals. She saw how they shook their heads to rid themselves of buzzing insects and quickly learned to imitate the movement. She unconsciously timed the movements, judging how long they kept their heads down and how long they looked around. She was excited by this new way to hunt, and intrigued. She almost felt like a deer as she moved forward with the hunters toward their quarry.
Ayla picked out the animal she planned to aim for and was slowly moving toward it. At first she thought she might try for a fat doe, but she decided she wanted antlers, so she changed her mind and chose the young buck instead. Jondalar had told her that the meat would be divided among all the people, but the hide, antlers, sinew, and whatever else might be useful belonged to the hunter who killed the animal.
When the hunters were almost in the midst of the deer, she saw Joharran give a prearranged signal. The hunters gripped their spears in readiness; Ayla and Jondalar adjusted theirs in their spear-throwers. She knew she could have cast her spear long before, but most of the hunters did not have spear-throwers, and her throw would have frightened the rest of the deer away, before the others were close enough to hurl theirs.
When Joharran saw that everyone was ready, he gave another quick signal. Almost as one, the hunters flung their spears. Several of the huge deer threw up their heads, startled into flight before they realized they were already hit. The proud stag bugled a call as a signal to run, but only one doe and her calf followed him. It was so fast, so unexpected, the rest staggered as they strained to take a step and fell to their knees as he leapt away.
The hunters went to check their kills, to humanely dispatch any animals that might still be alive, and to verify which one should be credited to whom. Each person’s spears were marked with decorations that clearly identified to whom they belonged. All the hunters knew their own weapons in any case, but the distinguishing symbols left no doubt and avoided disputes. If more than one hunter’s spear found the same mark, they tried to determine which one had made the kill. If it was not obvious, the kill was claimed by both and would be shared.
It was quickly acknowledged that Ayla’s smaller, lighter spear had found the young buck. Some of the hunters knew that the young male had been browsing on a low bush somewhat away from the rest of the deer and on the opposite side of their
approach. Not an easy target, and apparently no one else had attempted it, at least no other spear had found it. People talked about not only the long-distance weapon, but her skill with it, and wondered how much practice it would take to match her. Some were willing to try, but others looked at the successful hunt and weren’t sure they needed to make the effort.
Manvelar approached Joharran and several others of the Ninth Cave, including Jondalar and Ayla. “What did you find out about the bison?” he asked.
The planning and preparations for the hunt had built up an eager anticipation, but stalking the deer and dispatching them had been so quick and efficient, it had left the hunters with a measure of excess energy that had not been used up.
“The herd was moving north again, toward the surround,” Jondalar said.
“Do you really think that they might get close enough to it so we can take advantage of the surround today?” Joharran asked. “It’s still early, and I wouldn’t mind getting a few of those bison.”
“We can make sure they do,” Jondalar said.
“How?” Kareja asked. Jondalar noticed there wasn’t as much sarcasm in her tone as there had been the day before.
“Manvelar, do you know where the surround is? And how long would it take the hunters to get there from here?” Jondalar said.
“Yes, but Thefona can tell you that better than I,” Manvelar said. The young woman was not only a good lookout, she was a good hunter. She came forward when Manvelar mentioned her name and beckoned her. “How far is it to the surround?”
She thought for a moment, looked up at the position of the sun in the sky, then said, “If we set a good pace, we could get there not much after the sun is highest, I think. But the last time I saw them, the bison weren’t that close to the surround.”
“When we found them, they were heading in that direction, and I think we can speed them up, with the help of the horses and Wolf,” Jondalar said. “Ayla has done it before.”
“What if you can’t? What if we get there, and there are no bison?” Kimeran asked. He hadn’t been around Jondalar much since his return, or Ayla, and though he’d heard many stories about his friend and the woman he’d brought back with him, he hadn’t been exposed to as many of the surprises they had brought with them as some of the others. He hadn’t seen them ride the horses until that morning and wasn’t at all sure about them.
“Then we will have nothing to show for our efforts, but it won’t be the first time,” Manvelar said.
Kimeran shrugged, and smiled wryly. “I suppose that’s true,” he said.
“Does anyone else have any objections to trying for the bison? We can just settle for the deer,” Joharran said. “We need to start butchering them, anyway.”
“That’s not a problem,” Manvelar said. “Thefona can lead you to the surround. She knows the way. I’ll go back to Two Rivers Rock and organize some people to get started with the butchering, and send a runner to the other Caves to come and help. We’ll need more help if you are lucky with the bison hunt.”
“I’m ready to try for the bison.”
“I’ll go.”
“Count me in.”
Several people volunteered.
“All right,” Joharran said. “You two go ahead and see what you can do about getting those bison started toward the surround. The rest of us will get there as fast as we can.”
Ayla and Jondalar headed for the horses. Wolf was particularly glad to see them coming. He did not like being physically restrained. Ayla did not confine his movements often, and he wasn’t used to it. The horses seemed to adjust to it more easily, but their activities were more often controlled. They mounted the horses and rode off at a fast pace, the wolf loping alongside them, leaving the people on foot watching as they quickly disappeared in the distance. It was true. Horses could certainly travel faster than people.
They decided to go to the surround first, so they could judge how far away the bison were from it. Ayla was fascinated with the circular trap and took a little time to inspect it. It consisted of many small trees and logs, filled in mostly with brush, but also with whatever they could find, such as bones and antlers. The surround had originally been constructed some years before, and it had moved somewhat from its original place. None of the trees from which it was made were sunk into the ground. Rather, they were lashed together, fixed firmly to each other, so that when some creature crashed into it, it wouldn’t break through. The fencing had some give, some elasticity, and would instead move with the blow; sometimes, with an extremely hard thrust, the entire structure shifted.
It took a great deal of effort on the part of many people to cut down trees and branches and haul them to a logical site, especially on a largely treeless grassland, then erect a fence that could withstand the crush of heavy animals milling around inside it and the occasional assault by one maddened with fear. Each year the parts that had fallen down or rotted away were repaired or replaced. They tried to keep it sound for as long as they could. It was easier to repair than entirely rebuild, especially since there were more than one, at various strategic locations.
This surround was located in a narrow valley between a limestone cliff on one side and steep hills on the other that was a natural migration route. At one time a river had flowed through it, and a runoff stream still filled the dry bed occasionally. Hunters used it only sporadically; animals seemed to learn quickly if a particular route was consistently dangerous and tended to avoid it.
The ones who had come to repair the trap had also set up a portable fencing of panels that funneled the animals driven into the valley toward an opening in the surround. Usually hunters had time enough to establish a cadre of people to stand behind the panels to harass any animals that attempted to bolt away back toward the trap. Since this was a rather unplanned, spontaneous hunt, no one was there yet. But Ayla did notice that some scraps of leather and cloth, pieces of woven belts, and grass wands, long bunches of grass fastened to sticks, were tucked into the frames of the panels or held down with stones.
“Jondalar,” she called to him. He rode up to her. She had picked up a grass wand and a piece of leather. “Anything that flutters or moves in an unexpected way tends to spook bison, especially when they’re running, at least that’s what happened when we were driving bison toward the Lion Camp’s surround. These must be used to shake at animals heading toward the surround, to keep them from breaking away. Do you think anybody would object if we borrowed a few? They could be useful when we’re trying to drive the herd this way.”
“You’re right. That is what they’re for,” Jondalar said, “and I’m sure no one would mind if we borrow some if it will help us get those bison here.”
They left the valley and headed toward the place where they had last seen the herd. The trail trampled by the slowly moving animals was easy to find, and they were a little closer to the valley than they were earlier. There were about fifty bison in all, males, females, and young. They were starting to come together to form the huge migratory herd that would develop later in the season.
At certain times of the year, bison congregated in such huge numbers, it was like watching a sinuously moving river of dark brown spiked with large black horns. At other times, they broke up into smaller groupings, sometimes not much more than an extended family, but they preferred to form herds of some size. On the whole there was safety in numbers. While predators, especially cave lions and packs of wolves, often brought down a bison from a herd, it was usually one that was slow or weak, which allowed the healthy and strong to survive.
They approached the herd slowly, but the bison hardly noticed them. Horses were not animals that posed a threat, though they did give Wolf a wider berth. They were aware of him, but didn’t panic; they merely avoided him, sensing that a single wolf could not take down an animal the size of a bison. Male bison were typically six feet six inches at the top of the hump on their shoulders and weighed a ton. They had long black horns and a beard that jutted forward from hea
vy jaws. Females were smaller, but both were quick and agile, able to climb steep slopes and leap over substantial obstacles.
They could gallop, tail up and head down, in long strides across even rocky landscapes. Bison didn’t mind water and could swim well, drying off their thick fur by rolling in the sand or dirt. They tended to graze in the evening and relaxed to chew their cud during the day. Their hearing and sense of smell were acute. Full-grown bison could be violent and aggressive, and were difficult to kill with teeth and claws or with spears, but one bison provided fifteen hundred pounds of meat, plus fat, bones, skin, hair, and horns. Bison were proud and noble animals, respected by those who hunted them and admired for their strength and courage.
“What do you think would be the best way to get them started?” Jondalar said. “Usually the hunters let them go at their own pace, and try to guide them slowly toward the surround, at least until they get close.”
“When we hunted on our Journey here, we usually tried to get an animal to bolt away from the herd. This time we want them all to keep going in the same direction, toward that valley,” Ayla said. “I think riding up behind them and shouting would get them going, but if we wave these things at them, I think it would be a help, especially for the bison that tries to dash away. We don’t want them stampeding in the wrong direction. Wolf always liked to chase them, too, and he got good at keeping them together.”
She looked up at the sun and tried to estimate when they might arrive at the surround, and wondered how close the hunters were. Well, the important thing is to get them moving toward the trap, she thought.
They moved around to the side opposite the direction they wanted to start them going, then, looking at each other, they nodded and, with a loud yell, urged the horses toward the herd. Ayla was holding a grass wand in one hand and the scrap of leather in the other, both hands free because she didn’t use a halter or a rein to direct Whinney.