PUT NOT YOUR TRUST IN OWLS 171 



pretty antics, skipping, chattering, and staring from log or 

 branch at the new-comer with their large and lovely eyes, busy 

 now collecting stores for the long winter before them. A few 

 very shy ducks visited the lakes, but the weird, mocking laugh of 

 the loon was common on all. 



Delightful pages are those in Nature's open book in the wilder- 

 ness; the more attentively read the more engrossing they become. 



Though rather late in the season, we first tried "calling" 

 moose, but in spite of every effort and the most seductive and 

 thrilling sounds produced by my hunter on his birch-bark trumpet, 

 no bull could be persuaded to come or even to answer. It was 

 very impolite of him, to say the least, to the fair sex of the 

 moose tribe, for I am sure that the sounds produced, though 

 not very musical, were all that maiden in distress would utter. 

 Bachelor moose evidently existed not, or had been grievously 

 disappointed in their love affairs, and therefore would have no 

 more to do with the gentler sex. We called in the lakes from 

 canoe both morning and evening ; we called near swamps, where 

 tracks were numerous ; we uttered sounds of love, drifting down 

 rivers from lake to lake, where moose had lately crossed, till we 

 nearly froze but no, marriage had no charms for them. On 

 one of the latter occasions we met our friend of the owl tribe 

 again ; he sat on a tree not twenty yards away as we floated 

 past, watching us and a musk-rat we had disturbed. He did not 

 hoot this time, but seemed pleased when we had passed and 

 left him to prepare his supper, at which the musk-rat probably 

 played an important part. Leaving our characters of love-sick 

 moose maidens, we took to tracking, but this time it was too 

 early we wanted two or three inches of snow, and no snow 

 came. The ground was thickly covered with dry leaves and dry 

 sticks, which rendered noiseless walking impossible ; a stormy 

 day after rain now gave the only chance, when sticks and leaves 

 were soft and the noise of the wind in the trees deadened that 

 even then made by one's footstep. But even if the acute hearing 

 of the moose does not catch any suspicious sound, his nose comes 

 to the rescue, and the slightest taint of man destroys all chance 

 of a kill. In summer moose lie in swamps and shallow waters 

 to escape the fly pest and to feed on the succulent weeds ; in 

 winter they " yard " take up their quarters in a certain part of 

 the bush where food is good, to stay there, unless disturbed, until 



