76 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 



Except in the height of the rutting season, the great 

 ear of the moose is ever on the alert to detect danger ; 

 the slightest snap of a dead bough trodden on by the 

 advancing hunter, and he is off in a long swinging trot 

 for many a mile. He readily perceives the difference of 

 sounds occasioned by the presence of his human foe to 

 those produced by the animals or birds of the forest, or 

 by the approach of his own species. " The only way 

 you can fool a moose," says my Indian, " is when the 

 drops of rain are pattering off the trees on to the dead 

 leaves ; then he don't know nothing." 



The presence of the moose is so difficult to detect, 

 except by tracks and signs of browsing, that habitual 

 silence and caution in walking through the forest be- 

 comes a leading trait in the moose hunter, whose eyes 

 are ever glancing around through the forest. By observ- 

 ing this strictly, and from long habit, I shot my last 

 moose unexpectedly. On our road to the calling ground, 

 a picturesque little open bog of a hundred acres or so in 

 the middle of a heavily-wooded evergreen forest, we had 

 passed through a descending valley imder tall hemlock 

 woods on the soft mossy carpet which makes travelling 

 ^,0 easy and grateful to the moccasined foot. Not a word 

 had been spoken save in cautious undertones, and de- 

 bouching on the bog, we walked up to a little pile of 

 rocks and dead trees near the centre, where we were to 

 try our luck with the moose-call on the approach of 

 evening, and quietly deposited our loads — blankets and 

 camp-kettle. Lighting our pipes, we sat still for a few 

 moments, scanning the edges of the woods. It was per- 

 fectly calm ; not a sound except the cry of the jay or the 

 woodpecker's tap. Presently the Indian, who lay in the 



