MOOSE CALLING. 151 



the world, and among them the old men are better than 

 the young ones. I have never seen a white man who 

 could call moose really well. Sometimes they answer to 

 the call much more readily than at others. I once brought 

 up a lusty young bull by tearing a piece of birch bark off 

 a tree to make a horn ; he heard the noise and came up, 

 so I had no further trouble. I have at different times 

 brought up moose from a distance, who came to my call 

 unsuspiciously, without needing any further stimulus in 

 the shape of a low, half-suppressed call, which the more 

 wary old bulls sometimes need to bring them within shot. 

 These low calls, made when the moose is pausing, un- 

 certain whether to come or go, close to the caller yet not 

 within shot, require the greatest skill a false note, and all 

 is lost. I have at times seen an old Indian trembling with 

 excitement, the small end of his horn to his lips, the other 

 end on the ground to deaden the sound his face puffed 

 up with the volumes of wind he is pouring into his horn, 

 which produce a low and far-off-sounding series of grunts. 



There is something very charming in moose calling on 

 a lake or river far back in the woods on a fine September 

 evening, when one is dry and warm. The foliage is 

 beautiful, as I said before, and so are the reflections on 

 the water, owing, I suppose, to the clearness of the atmo- 

 sphere. The smooth surface of the water is broken here 

 and there by the rising of a trout, or by the ripple in the 

 wake of a musquash. The only sounds heard are the 

 shrieking and hooting of the owls, the chattering of the 

 squirrels, the drumming of the partridge,* and the dis- 

 cordant voice of the kingfisher as he throws himself into 



* T. Umbellus. 



