68 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 



I 



swamp and lay about him amongst the spruce stems right 

 and left, now and then making short rushes — the dead 

 sticks flying before him with reports like pistol shots. I 

 have often heard a strange sound produced by moose 

 when "real mad," as the Indians would say — a half- 

 choked sound as if there was a stoppage in the wind-pipe, 

 which might be expressed — hud-jup, hud-jup ! When 

 with his mate, his note is plaintive and coaxing — cooah, 

 cooah ! 



A veteran hunter, now dead, well-known in Nova 

 Scotia as Joe Cope — to be regretted as one of the last 

 examples of a thorough Indian, and gifted with extra- 

 ordinary faculties for the chase — thus described to me, 

 over the camp-fire, one of his earlier reminiscences of the 

 woods — the subject being a moose fight. 



It was a bright night in October, and he was alone, 

 calling, on an elevated ridge which overlooked a great 

 extent of forest land. " I call," said he, " and in all my 

 life I never hear so many moose answer. Why, the place 

 was bilin with moose. By-and-by I hear two coming 

 just from opposite ways — proper big bulls I knew from 

 the way they talked. They come right on, and both 

 come on the little hill at same time — pretty hard place, 

 too, to climb up, so full of rocks and windfalls. When 

 they coming up the hill, I never hear moose make such 

 a shockin' noise, roarin, and tearin' with their horns. I 

 just step behind some bushes, and lay down. They meet 

 just at the top, and directly they seen one another, they 

 went to it. Well, Capten, you wouldn't blieve what a 

 noise — just the same as if gun gone off. Well, they 

 ripped away, till I couldn't stand it no longer, and I shot 

 one of the poor brutes ; the other he didn't seem to mind 



