70 FOREST LIFE IN ACADIE. 



When tliG moose wishes to beat a retreat in silence, his 

 suspicions being aroused, he can effect the same with 

 marvellous stealth. Not a branch is heard to snap, and 

 the horns are so carefully carried through the densest 

 thickets that I believe a porcupine or a rabbit would 

 make more noise when alarmed. 



In the fall the bull moose, forgetting his hitherto cau- 

 tious habits of moving through the forest, seems, on the 

 contrary, bent on making himself heard, " sounding " (as 

 the Indians term it) his horns against a tree with a pecu- 

 liar metallic ring. Sometimes the ear of the hunter, 

 intently listening for signs of advancing game, is as- 

 sailed by a most tremendous clatter from some distant 

 swamp or burnt-wood, "just (as my Indian once aptly 

 expressed it) as if some one had taken and hove down a 

 pile of old boards." It is the moose, defiantly sweeping 

 his forest of tines riiijht and left amongst the brittle 

 branches of the ram-pikes, as the scathed pines, hardened 

 by fire, are locally termed. The resemblance of the 

 sound of the bull when he answers at a great distance off 

 to the chopping of an axe is very distinct ; and even the 

 practised ear of the sharpest Indian is often exercised in 

 long and anxiously criticising the sound before he can 

 make up his mind from which it emanates. There are 

 of frequent occurrence, in districts frequented by these 

 animals, what are termed moose-paths — well-defined 

 lines of travel and of communication between their feeding 

 grounds which, when seeking a new browsing country, 

 or when pursued, they invariably make for and follow. 

 These paths, which in some places are scarcely visible, at 

 other times are broad enough to afford a good line of 

 travel to a man ; they are also used by bears and wild 



