a big stag was seen chivying Muggridge (the old keeper) round and round a tree. A
few minutes’ delay might have cost the unfortunate man his life, but Mr. Lucas promptly
seized a gun and ran out and shot the brute through the head. This is one o f the few
instances within my knowledge o f a stag actually attacking a man in the rutting season.
Many years ago the late Marquis o f Breadalbane’s piper at Taymouth was nearly killed by
a furious stag, and in 1891 a keeper in Ross-shire, whilst on the way to a funeral over the
hills, was attacked by a tame stag, and after a severe struggle was gored to death.
Nearly all such accidents occur in the uncertain twilight o f evening or early morning.
At such times and under such circumstances a stag mad with passion and jealousy will
go for anything he sees moving ; and when, added to this, the fear o f man is more or less
lost the danger is trebled.1
Even a hind is not always to be trusted, especially when confined in an enclosure.
Mr. Sydney Steel, my fellow-artist in this work, was working one day last year in the
hinds’, cage at the Zoo. We had been sitting together inside the inner enclosure, as we
had frequently done before, and the animals, by constantly seeing us there, became so tame
that they would even search in our pockets for biscuits. I had just left when an Edinburgh
artist, entering the cage from the back, came into the open yard near the hinds. As quick
as thought the old hind reared on her hind legs and struck him to the ground with a
violent blow on his chest, and by the time Mr. Steel had his stick in hand and was||oming
to the rescue the hind again knocked the unfortunate man down and hurt him considerably.
O f course the tables were immediately turned, and the victim was enabled to beat a hasty
retreat, but for that day at least he had had enough o f the Zoo, and was probably only
too glad to find himself outside the grounds. Almost as soon as he had gone the hind
came up to Mr. Steel again and began sniffing about as usual in a perfectly friendly way.
One more anecdote o f tame red deer is perhaps worth recording here. When I was
quartered at Edinburgh in 1886, Captain MacDonald presented to our regiment (Seaforth
Highlanders) a stag calf, which, feeing the regimental emblem, was treated as everybody’s
pet. “ Mac,” as he was called, was a greaTornament to the regiment as it marched out to
field days in the Phoenix Park, and created much interest by the leisurely way in which he
kept his place in front o f the band. But that was only after he had learnt his drill. His
first day’s route-marching at Glasgow I well remember. Adorned with a white pipeclayed
collar ornamented with hells, he was lugged along, by “ two little bloomin bounders
wot banged the bloomin’ drums.” But this was an indignity “ Mac ’ was not inclined
to submit to ; so, just as the barrack gates were reached, he charged backwards into the
drums and pipes, putting an end to their music, and drawing forth instead a volley o f sounds
and speech not provided for in the “ soldier’s pocket regulations.” I am pained to say
the adjutant swore and the subalterns audibly sniggered. Indeed, for the first month or
two “ M ac ” was not altogether a success, his aversion to music too often bringing sore
trouble upon the band at moments when they particularly wanted to look their best;
By and by, however, he became much more docile, and seemed to know what was expected
1 A remarkable instance of this occurred some years ago in the Duke of Buckingham’s park at Stowe, a stag attacking a
carnage and pair, that was conveying guests to the house. So furious was the onslaught of the animal that both guests and
coachman had to take refuge under the vehicle, the deer having disabled the horses, one of which had to be shot.
o f him, finally stepping out, and really adding an attractive feature to the show. Two
remarkable traits in his character interested me very much. First, his extreme fickleness.
A t one time he would attach himself warmly to some private soldier, betraying an affection
quite embarrassing in its strength and persistence. He would follow the man wherever
he went, climbing the highest stairs in the barracks to where his pal dwelt, and in the
barrack room he would lie on the floor and share the tea and bread or almost anything else
that his friend offered him. But these maudlin fits never lasted more than a month.
Within that time he would be off with his old love and on with another “ soldier boy.”
One o f his friends was in my Company, and when we paraded in the early morning for
monthly training Mac turned up for the first few days and ran up and down the ranks
uttering his plaintive cry until his friend was found ; so in the end he had to be shut up
till parade was over. When off parade he was ubiquitous and omnivorous; he was to be
found in all parts o f the barracks, and dearly loved poking his nose in anywhere where there
was.a chance o f “ grub.”
Another trait o f his was exhibited in the local knowledge he soon learnt to display.
T h e sergeants’ wives in the married quarters were especially kind to him, many o f them
giving him a little milk whenever he came their way ; and as he grew older he managed
to remember the different doors behind which the women were to be found, and nearly
every morning, just after, the breakfast pipes had sounded, off he would clamber up a steep
stone staircase to the long balcony where he was accustomed to receive his favourite drink.
Going up to the first door at which he knew he would be welcomed, he would strike it
with his forefoot, and continue knocking until the door was opened. I went twice to see
him go through this performance, and most amusing it was to watch. Though he went
down the whole length o f the passage,'knocking at the doors till his wants were satisfied,
he never stopped at any door where he had once met with a repulse.
When he grew big and strong he never attempted to strike any o f the men, though
sometimes rearing on his hind legs in a threatening manner ; and though the barrack
children often teased him till he struck out, none o f them ever came to any serious harm.
Like all pets, poor Mae came to a sad end, his omnivorous taste leading him one day to
mistake some poisoned meat for something better. The Seaforths have now a hind which
they say is less troublesome than her predecessor.
As a general rule, in parks stags o f four years old and upwards keep in one herd by
themselves, and the prickets and hinds run together, whilst the brockets generally associate
with the stags when permitted to do so. After November, i f the winter is severe, the
two sexes mix indiscriminately, but in mild weather they separate, and so remain till about
horn-casting time in March. As the horns commence growing on the stags they again
separate, and live apart throughout the summer till fighting begins in September.
These big park stags are, as a rule, but moderate warriors. Their great weight does
not seem to help them, as it would a wild stag, who on the vantage ground o f a hill-side
can bring his weight to bear. Nor does the possession o f a fine head confer any advantage
in this way. It is probably a hindrance rather than a help, and the stags seem to know
this as well as the sportsmen. Park stags, too, never fight so long or so resolutely as wild
ones ; nor, i f I may judge from my experience at Warnham, where I have watched them