THE BEGUILING OF THE MOOSE BULL 125 



the game be ' up ' likewise, were the faintest whiff of wind to carry 

 that strange taint of the human body to nostrils so sensitive that 

 they can discern the presence of mankind at incredible distance. 

 Successful calling requires a perfectly windless night. Otherwise 

 moose will reassure themselves of their safety by working round 

 to leeward and ascertaining if the overtures proceed from an 

 individual emitting the right sort of odour. How far must the 

 olfactory powers of many animals surpass our limited faculty ! 

 which, by the bye, may be on the whole considered a provision 

 of Providence merciful to the human being. 



The red man, with impassive inscrutable features, yet with a 

 blazing eye which betokens fierce excitement held well in check, 

 plays his part with all the skill that is born of long experience, 

 and of an instinct inherited perhaps from a long line of ancestors, 

 whose principal occupation in life was doubtless one long-continued 

 crusade against the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the 

 fishes that swim the waters. 



The caller being an ' old hand ' at the game, presently resorts 

 to various little stratagems apart from vocal mimicry. For instance, 

 he takes the cone of yellow birch-bark and strikes it heavily against 

 the green boughs of some beech saplings. He buries the mouth 

 of his trumpet in the feather-like springy mosses at his feet in order 

 to muffle the note as a moose might do while engaged in browsing. 

 All his little artifices and tricks, however, in this instance appear 

 to be of no avail. Our moose bull has evidently grown suspicious. 

 He refuses to advance out of cover into the open at the supreme 

 moment. What is to be done ? 



Your redskin is ever equal to an emergency of this sort. Without 

 a moment's hesitation he suddenly changes his tactics, just as a 

 salmon fisherman would try a new fly with a fish that is recalcitrant. 

 Again he puts the birch-bark funnel to his lips, and with art inimit- 

 able he gives the challenge note of a rival bull. The response is 

 immediate and terrific. During all his prolonged silence the great 

 deer had been standing amid the black shadows that edge the swamp 

 at less than one hundred yards distance, quiet as any field mouse. 

 The challenge stirs his blood. Enraged and maddened at the feigned 

 rival who would rob him of the spouse towards whom he had been 

 for so long time stealthily working his way, he charges into the 

 open with giant stride, plunging and slopping into the soft places 

 of the marsh. He emerges full beneath the white rays of the moon. 

 A great mountainous black mass is seen to stand out in bold relief, 

 while the white rays touch with silver the many glistening points 

 of the broad-spreading antlers, and glance upon the sights of the 

 rifle now held in terrible alignment against the shaggy fore-shoulder. 



