Ygnacio Villegas was born in 1840 in Baja California and in 1848 moved with his parents to Monterey, where the family had a cattle ranch. Boyhood Days (1895) is his memoir about growing up in Monterey and Rancho San Felipe, a small community about thirty miles south of San Jose, where he experienced the excitement and violence of the gold rush. Villegas died in 1914.

—Under the Fifth Sun, Latino Literature from California

WHEN MY FAMILY MOVED TO SAN FELIPE IN 1849, the country was teeming with game of all kinds, including deer, elk, bear, wolves, mink, antelope, and small fowl by the millions. It was the ideal country for the sportsman and the hunter. The Kentucky rifle was the favorite with the hunters.

Hudson's Bay trappers and many other outfits were covering the country after mink, beaver, and otter, and later hunters came down to kill elk and deer for the hides and meat. I have seen pack trains of forty horses camp at San Felipe, loaded with jerked venison to be taken to the mines. The hides of the elk and deer were shipped to San Francisco, where they sold for fifty cents each. Later, market hunters of quail and ducks sent out thousand of pounds each year. When I first went to Soledad, when it was the end of the Southern Pacific line, I have known hunters to ship out four thousand quail in a year, besides hundreds of deer, to the San Francisco market. They never shot individual quail, but only shot flocks, getting sometimes as many as thirty quail a shot. Traps also were sued to get hundreds for market.

The otter and beaver skins were obtained mostly from the larger rivers. Otter skins, even in 1849, brought as high as fifty dollars each, and beaver skins five dollars. These were sold to Boston traders, who came to Monterey and exchanged guns, knives, food, and clothes for them. These boats would then take the skins to China, where they were exchanged for tea and silk. The latter two commodities were then taken back to Boston and sold at enormous profit.

Elk and deer were everywhere. However, there were places where enormous bands ranged, such as the marshes around Castroville and Gilroy. I have heard the young men from Monterey once rodeod a herd of elk near the treacherous ground called the Tembladeras, located between Castroville and Salinas, and drove the elk into the bog with such speed that the animals could not select their footing, with the result that they killed a hundred or more when they sank into the mire.

Many of the elks had a sixty-inch spread, and for years there was a set of horns at the first state station out of Gilroy that measured three yards, according to the hostlers, but I never measured to see if they were telling the truth.

The grizzly bear and cinnamon bear were most plentiful, with few black bear. The grizzlies were ferocious animals, and some weighed close to a ton. They were frequently eight feet in height. These animals killed many hogs, horses, sheep, and cattle. They could grab a pig and run away with it like a coyote does with a rabbit. The trappers claimed that the foxy old grizzlies would get out in the meadows and lie on their backs, with their feet in the air, and cattle or other animals would get very curious, and when they got close enough, up would jump Mr. Grizzly and grab one for dinner.

I had two harrowing experiences with grizzlies. I met on on the high bank of creek near San Felipe. He was digging into the bark of a dead tree, and I did not see him until I was so close that I could have touched him. For a minute he was as frightened as I, but he started after me, so I leaped out over the bank some thirty feet, landing in the sand below. I expected any minute to see his huge claws enfold me, so I looked around, and there he was, still on the bank, looking angrily at me.

Another time I was returning from Monterey, and was crossing the Salinas plains near what is now Blanco. My horse became mired in the quicksand, and while I was trying to get him out, he got away from me, so I started on foot to San Felipe, some thirty miles away. I was followingthe trail through the dry mustard when I spotted two huge grizzlies in front of me, some one hundred yards away. They started after me, and as I had no gun, I started to run, but after a few steps it occurred to me that they would catch me easily, so I tried the old Indian trick of setting fire to the grass. The bears were almost upon me when they saw the smoke and blaze, so they quickly turned and ran. It was only a minute before the fire was a raging furnace, crackling like gunfire. I ran as fast as I could to the river and climbed a tall, cottonwood tree. I was there six or seven hours and saw hundreds of deer, bears, wolves, and other wild animals seeking refuge along the river. The fire frightened them as badly as the bears had me.

The fire burned for several days, extending as far south as the present town of Soledad.

There were many antelope on the Salinas plains, and I saw them as late as 1872. They were beautiful, graceful animals as they bounded over the ground. At first they were very tame, and one could get close to them, but after the immigrant trains came trooping up to the Salinas Valley, and they were being constantly shot at and chased by horsemen, they became very shy.

As for small game, they were countless. I have seen young mallard ducks by the thousands in the small lagoons around Salinas. The mallards made their nests at a consdierable distance from the water, and I have often seen the mother mallard go marching down a trail with her young brood. The young mallard, just before it could fly, made the best meal of any game I ever tasted. Where the water was shallow they were easily caught, and we frequently caught a mess to take home.

Doves and wild pigeons were also plentiful. I have seen so many doves in the wild mustard on the Salinas plains that when they got between you and the sun they darkened the ground. The doves built their nests everywhere, and I have seen as many as twelve nests on one brance of a sycamore tree.

However, the ruthless slaughter of the early days killed off most of the game of all kinds, so that the present generation has to be content with little or nothing.