How Animals Talk 



seems that some extra sense is at work, more sub- 

 tle than smell or hearing; and, whether rightly or 

 wrongly, it is apparently associated with the pene- 

 trating stare of an animal's eyes on your back. 



To quote but a single incident, out of several that 

 come to my memory: I was once sitting on the 

 shore of a lake at twilight, wholly intent on follow- 

 ing the antics of a bull moose I had called into the 

 open. He was on the other side of a small bay, 

 ranging up and down, listening, threshing the 

 bushes with his antlers, blowing his penny- 

 trumpet at intervals, in a dozen impatient ways 

 showing what a young and foolish moose he was. 

 A veteran would have kept to the cover till he had 

 located what he came for. I had ceased my bel- 

 lowing when the bull first answered, had been 

 thrilled by his rush through the woods, had cheered 

 him silently when he burst into the open, grunting 

 and challenging like a champion; now I was 

 quietly enjoying his bewilderment at not finding 

 the tantalizing cow he had just heard calling. 

 He did not see or suspect me; I had the comedy all 

 to myself, and was keenly interested to know how 

 he would act when he rounded the bay, as he 

 certainly would, and found me sitting in his path. 

 Because he was big and truculent and a fool, I did 

 not know what to expect ; my canoe floated ready 

 against the outer end of a stranded log, where a 



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