THE CARIBOU MIGRATION 35 



even though I got only one very poor picture, the 

 experience was one long to be remembered. What 

 would I not have given for a gleam of sunshine. 

 Then I could have shown people what a herd 

 of frenzied Caribou look like. Wait ! There is 

 another splash. It was only a single stag, a rather 

 small one with poor antlers, but he came very close, 

 and as he was travelling slowly, I managed to 

 secure a fair picture. The wind is rising and blow- 

 ing away the snow from the more exposed situations. 

 This is bad, as it makes it still more difficult to use 

 the camera for quick work. Once more I hear a 

 terrific splashing in the river, but it sounds a little 

 below my leads. Minutes are going by. Still I 

 see no sign of the animals. They have evidently 

 gone along another lead further to the westward. 

 Yes, I can see them crossing the big marsh. A 

 superb herd of one hundred and twenty or more. 

 What a pity they are too far away to photograph ! 

 It is such a beautiful sight, that long, quickly 

 moving line of white and grey, its colour being 

 in perfect harmony with the snow-mottled marsh 

 where the colours range from the deepest crimsons 

 and yellows to cold blue and lemon greys of the 

 Caribou moss. There again is the promising sound 

 of splashing in the water, repeated at short intervals 

 as animal after animal takes to the river. The wind 

 makes so much noise that it is impossible to get any 

 idea of the number in the herd, but I shall probably 

 see them, as they appear to be coming this way. 

 Yes, there they are. The herd was a big one, but it 

 divided and only thirty or forty passed me, and not 

 a stag in the lot. For some unknown reason the 



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