Cottonwood report. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1893-1901, 1893-09-15

1t Was in the Early PsI1>< xE< y <6t<t
Of 1s67-s That the Last 1szlsI III 4I& ~
Tracked to His Death BY the 1Ixel3
Sportsman of the sinnamahoning.
The man who was in at ehe death OF
the last elk killed in Pennsylvania died q
few days ago in Potter county said u
former resident of that part of the Key
stone State. "His name was Ira Par
menter, and he must have been ninety
years Of age. He was born near the forks
OF the Sinnamahoning, where his father,
who came from Connecticut with his
family before the close of the last CEN
tury, was one of the first settlers. The
old hunter just dead was the last Of his
race. He had followed the life Of a hunter
and trapper until three years ago, when
he became partially blind and was forced
to hang up his rifle. He had lived during
the times when elk, wolves and panthers,
all of them now extinct, were numerous
in the Pennsylvania woods, and he, prob
ably more than any Of his contempora-
neous woodsmen, aided in bringing
about their extinction.
"For many years he insisted that he
had killed the last panther ever known
to be in Pennsylvania. But Jacob BEN
sley, an old Pike county hunter, finally
brought such evidence to bear that he
and not Parmenter was entitled to that
honor, that the latter acknowledged
Bensley's claim. That he was in the
hunt, though, which resulted in the kill
ing of the one lone elk that chung to its
native hills and Businesses In the Penn
sylvania wilds there is no doubt, al
though the elk was killed by another
person, and an Indian at that This elk
hunt was Parmenter's favorite reminis-
cence, among the hundreds of stirring
stories of his life in the woods that he
was always ready to relate, almost up to
the day of his death.
ON THE TRAIL.
"This elk hunt occurred as late as
1857, although it was supposed that the
last Of the Wapiti race in Pennsylvania
had met its death twenty years before.
Not any of the animals nor any sign OF
them had been seen since 1845, when
Seth Nelson, Of Elk county, shot what
was supposed to be the last one, and its
immense head and antlers for years were
exhibited at Peale's museum, in Phila-
delphia, as those of the last Pennsylva-
mia elk. In the fall of 1867 this same
Seth Nelson and Ira Parmenter were
hunting along the headwaters of Ben
nett's creek, in Play Swamp, from which
water flows on one side to the sources of
the Susquehanna, and from the other to
the Allegheny feeders. They were on
the trail of deer, when suddenly they
heard the peculiar whistle bull elk
sounds only at that time of the year, the
whistle being the call for mate. The
two hunters got their hounds on the
elk's trail and followed it all day, when
a heavy and prolonged rainstorm came
up and the trail was lost.
ssThe hunters roamed the woods for
weeks trying to strike the lost trail, but
did not succeed. The news that there
was still another elk left in the Sinna-
mahoning woods spread throughout the
region and clear to the Indian reserva-
lions over the New York state line.
Among these was hunter and trapper
famous on the Cattaraugus reservation,
known to the whites as Jim Jacobs. One
day in the latter part of November Ira
Parmenter and Seth Nelson started out
to try again to find the trail of the lone
bull elk of the Sinnamahoning. There
was a good tracking snow, and on the
south edge of Flag Swamp they discov-
cred tracks in the snow that they recog-
nized at once as an elk's, and at the
same time they were surprised and by no
means pleased to see the Indian hunter,
Jim Jacobs, appear on the scene.
THE INDIANS PRIZE. !
Jacob was an old man even then,
although he lived and hunted for ten
years longer, when he was killed by the
cars at Salamanca, N. Y. He had
hunted elk for fifty years, and knew all
their habits and instincts perfectly.
Parmenter and Nelson objected to the
Indian joining them in the chase of tho
elk, and he was forced to leave the trail.
The two white men followed the elk for
four days, and it led them through the
almost unbroken wilderness of western
Pennsylvania clear down to the head
waters of the Clarion river, in Clarion
county. There a binding snowstorm
came up, but they kept on, knowing that
the elk would not travel in the storm.
At last they discovered that the elk had
taken refuge in a laurel thicket, and
they felt that the prize was almost within
their grasp, when rife shot rang out
upon the snowy air from the thicket.
They made their way into the thicket,
and in an opening in the center stood
the Indian, Jim Jacobs, one foot on the
dead body Of the elk, and his rifle held
threateningly as he faced the white
hunters creeping through the laurels.
THE willy Indian had read the course
of the elk by his knowledge OF the ami
mails instincts, and had followed it as
surely as if he had been on its track
in the snow, and had actually reached
the laurel swamp where the animal took
refuge before the elk reached there itself.
The two white hunters, although dis
and chagrined over their fail
ure to capture the prize they had follow
ed for hundred miles, were forced to
acknowledge the wonderful skill and I'M
erring judgment of the old Indian. and
oiAod his,, IN 4.