APPENDIX. 355 



AUDACITY OF THE BULL MOOSE IN THE CALLING 



SEASON. 



The following instances of the recklessness which characterises 

 the bull moose in the fall are authentic : — 



A sportsman, accompanied by an Indian, was moose-calling on 

 Mosher's Eiver, Nova Scotia, one morning in the autumn of 1867. 

 They were on a barren, and near the margin of a heavy forest. A 

 fine bull moose came up to the call, and fell to the Indian's gun, 

 when instantly another bull emerged from the woods, and charged at 

 the prostrate animal. A second bullet brought him over, and he 

 fell on the body of what had most probably been his foe of the 

 season. 



A settler in the backwoods going out one October evening to chop 

 firewood near his shanty in the forest, heard a bull moose " handy" 

 He returned for his gun, and, after a short stalk in the bushes, 

 obtained a shot at the moose— an animal with superb antlers — and 

 could distinctly see that he had hit him in the neck. There he 

 stood for a considerable time, while the settler, who had only the 

 one charge, lay in the bushes, and at length turned and leisurely 

 walked away. The man was up betimes next morning, and away to 

 the same spot. He saw blood ; and, following the trail for a short 

 distance, heard sounds indicating the presence of moose. Having 

 some faint idea of calling, he put a piece of bark to his mouth, and 

 gave the note of the bull. Answering at once, a fine moose came in 

 view, when he fired, and this time prostrated the animal — the iden- 

 tical one shot the evening before. He recognised the horns, and 

 the wound was in his neck. 



Apropos of this subject, the following extracts from his note-book, 

 kindly placed at my disposal by " The Old Hunter," are highly 

 interesting and illustrative. He says :— " I left my camp on Lake 

 Mooin (the lake of the bear), Liscome River, September, 1866, in 

 company with Peter, Joe, and Stephen, as my Indian hunters, in- 

 tending to cross the next lake to the southward in a canoe which we 

 had there secreted. On arriving at the lake we found the wind so 

 high that it was considered altogether unsafe to trust ourselves on 

 its waters in our frail bark. About five o'clock the wind moderated, 

 but as I still thought that we could not reach my old calling-ground 

 on the opposite side before the decline of the sun, I determined to 

 cross to a narrow neck of rocky barren distant from us by water 

 some seven hundred yards. After various perils we reached the spot, 

 disembarked amongst the rocks, fixed a place for the calling-ground 

 should the night be calm, collected our bedding of spruce boughs 



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