ii8 MOOSE HUNTING IN NOVA SCOTIA 



all aboard, together with a few days' frugal rations ! Across the 

 stream the kingfisher's shrill rattle falls, as if in protest against the 

 invasion of his domain ; a bracing nor'-wester is calling forth from 

 the forest boughs a rustling note that does not accord badly with 

 the ever-present music of the rippling water. Yonder, inland, where 

 the sierra of mountains draped in blue rear themselves skyward, 

 adventures and encounters with big game are certain to be obtained. 



About fifty years ago Nova Scotia was one of the best and most 

 prolific moose-ranges in North America, and if now greatly reduced 

 in numbers, there are still a great many of these noble deer to be 

 met with in the more remote woodland districts. Nova Scotia is 

 admirably adapted to the moose, because her lakes are studded 

 with little thickly wooded islets where the cow moose hides away 

 her fawns, and because the long chains of swamps and mossy bogs, 

 which run far back into the heart of the evergreen woods, abound with 

 their favourite browse, and while secluded, at the same time these 

 open spaces are free from the encumbrance of dense timber. Yet 

 it is surprising on occasions how domestic in their habits moose ran 

 become, forming ' yards ' on some sheltered hardwood slope within 

 hearing of the settler's axe, the barking of the farmyard cur, and 

 even where the shrill whistle of the passing railway train wakes 

 sharp echoes. 



It is characteristic of the native hunters of every big-game country 

 to lure up wild animals by means of imitating the love calls of the 

 mating season. Thus the Indian shikari calls up the sambur stag. 

 On the bare steppe-like plateaux of Newfoundland skilled hunters 

 ' tole ' the caribou stag by a clever counterfeit of his short hoarse 

 bellow. In Canada, nearly every master of hunting-craft is able 

 to imitate the amorous roars of the cow moose until the deluded 

 bull comes crashing towards his doom, seemingly bold and fearless 

 from the consciousness of his immense strength. Yet there are 

 men who can never attain to success in the art of moose-calling. 

 Even the most experienced professional callers differ widely in their 

 methods of simulating the pleading, plaintive bellowing of the 

 cow moose. The Milicete guide sounds a succession of short quaver- 

 ing roars, ending as suddenly as if their author were cut down by a 

 stroke of apoplexy. One veteran backwoodsman is very successful 

 with a couple of guttural coughs or sobs, followed by a scalp-lilting, 

 blood-curdling wail, the ' spookiest ' sound that any mortal could 

 possibly utter. Another gives the challenge with an ending sug- 

 gestive of a note of interrogation. There can, therefore, be no 

 infallible standard for a novice to copy. It is, however, accepted 

 as a'st'ni qua non, that the call must be rendered through a trumpet- 



