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Our wild boar shoot at our home in Germany is always a riot because we invite lots of friends. We spend the day out in the woods, but then we get all dressed up in long gowns to dance around in the evenings.

So is the savage buffalo, especially delighting in dark places, where he can wallow in the mud and slake his thirst without much trouble; and here also we find the wild pig.

Wolfhounds helped kill off the wolves in Ireland.

Many years ago, large packs of wolves roamed the countryside in Ukraine, making travel in that part of the world very dangerous. These wolf packs were fearless. They were not intimidated by people nor by any of the weapons available at that time. The only thing that seemed to frighten them was fire.

Major North and myself went out in advance of the command several miles and killed a number of buffaloes.

Capture of a wild animal is invariably traumatic.

Not only the bull attacks his enemies with curved horn, but also the sheep, when harmed fights back.

The buffalo is a surprisingly stupid animal.

The greatness of a nation can be judged by the way its animals are treated.

The more I see of deer, the more I admire them as mountaineers. They make their way into the heart of the roughest solitudes with smooth reserve of strength, through dense belts of brush and forest encumbered with fallen trees and boulder piles, across canons, roaring streams, and snow-fields, ever showing forth beauty and courage.