My coyote, Romulus, was very destructive to poultry, and even to the wild deer, and I finally gave him to a zoological garden, where he died six years later, at the age of twelve.

I made a point of going to see him once or twice a year, and he never forgot me. As soon as he saw me he would begin to execute a strange little rocking dance, mean-wile smiling and waving his brush. The keeper would unlock the door of his pen, and as I entered the wolf would rush to greet me and roll over on his back like a friendly puppy. Then lie would throw himself upon me, lap my face and hands, hang onto my clothing as though to detain me, and when finally I had to leave him, he would raise his muzzle in the air and howl disconsolately.

My experience with domesticated timber wolves would tend to show that they are not so demonstratively affectionate as the coyotes. As puppies, they are rather playful, but as they get older they are apt to take themselves very seriously.

They differ greatly in character. Some I have had became so savage that it was necessary to get rid of them; others were gentle and friendly as long as they lived.

One big, powerful wolf I owned some times showed marked affection for me, but it was only occasionally, and then only when wc were entirely alone. The presence of a third person made him grimly aloof. Nevertheless, he did not resent the friendly advances even of strangers, and when I took him with me on lecture trips, as I often did, he would follow me through the audience, and the smallest child present might put its arms about his neck without fear of being hurt. But he simply tolerated these advarices; he never responded to them with so much as a smile.

Every living creature - man. clog, horse, and mule - had to be equipped with a gas mask in order to pass through the areas deluged with poisonous fumes during the world war. In the background are seen stretcher-bearers carrying a wounded man to safety. The war dogs were frequently employed in finding the sorely wounded in No Man's Land and in leading rescuers to them.

He was not so tolerant of dogs, however, and woe to any dog that ventured to cross his path. As a joke I once entered him as a "buffalo hound" at one of the big bench shows. He was accepted, benched, and behaved himself perfectly, though I did take the precaution to put a wire screen between him and the public.

Only once did he even threaten trouble. That was when I was leading him past a bench of the Russian wolf hounds, who instantly leaped to the ends of their chains, eyes blazing, teeth bared, while their savage barking brought every dog in the show to its feet.

The great wolf whirled about facing the foremost dog. Champion Bistri o' Valley Farm. The calmness of the wild brute was in marked contrast to the excitement of the dogs. As he stood there firmly on his four legs, the hair on his back and neck rising in a tall mane, menacing fangs unsheathed, and those cold, merciless eyes gazing straight into the face of his sworn enemy, I wondered what was going on in the back of that big gray head. Perhaps he was wondering how many dogs of that caliber he could account for in a fair open fight, taking one at a time. Then I dragged him off. mane tossing and with many a backward glance at the splendid dogs who were just as eager as he was to come to grips.

Jackals, which in many respects resemble our own coyotes, are found in Asia and Africa. If taken as puppies they are easily tamed. My father, who lived for many years in India, had a tame jackal which showed many doglike traits. It would wag its tail when pleased, and throw itself upon its back in affectionate submission.