A TASTE OF MAINE BIRCH. at 
was to go out in his canoe and conceal himself by 
some point or island, and wait till he heard the game. 
In the fall the moose comes into the water to eat the 
large fibrous roots of the pond-lilies. He splashes 
along till he finds a suitable spot, when he begins feed- 
ing, sometimes thrusting his head and neck several 
feet under water. ‘The hunter listens, and when the 
moose lifts his head and the rills of water run from 
it, and he hears him “ swash” the lily roots about to 
get off the mud, it is his time to start. Silently as a 
shadow he creeps up on the moose, who by the way, 
it seems, never expects the approach of danger from 
the water side. If the hunter accidentally makes a 
noise the moose looks toward the shore for it. There 
is always a slight gleam on the water, Uncle Nathan 
says, even in the darkest night, and the dusky form 
of the moose can be distinctly seen upon it. When 
the hunter sees this darker shadow he lifts his gun to 
the sky and gets the range of its barrels, then lowers 
it till it covers the mark, and fires. 
The largest moose Uncle Nathan ever killed is 
mounted in the State House at Augusta. He shot 
him while hunting in winter on snow-shoes. The 
moose was reposing upon the ground, with his head 
stretched out in front of him, as one may sometimes 
see a cow resting. The position was such that only 
a quartering shot through the animal’s hip could reach 
its heart. Studying the problem carefully, and taking 
his own time, the hunter fired. The moose sprang 
into the air, turned, and came with tremendous strides 
straight toward him. “I knew he had not seen or 
scented me,” said Uncle Nathan, “but, by hemp, f 
wished myself somewhere else just then; for I was 
lying right down in his path.” But the noble animal 
