GILPIN — ON THE MAMMALIA OF NOVA SCOTIA. Ill 



have seen, measured five feet two inches in width, from tip to tip ; the 

 heaviest about fifty pounds. Their colour is brown with bright burnt 

 sienna stains, and white edges to the tines. They shed thera in 

 February, and I have seen the young velvet horn in April. I have seen 

 the young calves in June when they could not be ten days old ; they were 

 a lively fawn color, about two feet six inches in height, their heads small 

 and not indicating future ponderance. They kneeled readily to drink 

 or pick the grass ; and I have seen them again between two and three 

 months old, when they had rapidly grown to three feet six inches, their 

 heads still small, but the neck and withers putting on a dark shaggy look, 

 and the fav/n tints becoming greyer. They usually all die when taken 

 from their dams, and are scarcely saved by being put to domestic cows^. 



Such is the description of this great boreal deer, that frequents 

 our pine forests, his most southern range. In early spring the- 

 cows seek the densest cover, very usually the islands in our wood- 

 land lakes, or the higher spots of our swampy barrens, to brinc^ 

 forth their young, the bulls meanwhile frequenting the shallow- 

 lakes and swamps. Here they wallow in the soft mud, feed upon, 

 the water lilies and aquatic grasses, and escape the torment of 

 insects. The cool September days find them clothed in their 

 choicest nuptial suits of glossy black and golden tan, with well. 

 grown horns ; and the sexes again seek each other — the cow now. 

 with one or two calves by her side. The most terrific encounters 

 ensue betwixt the males. The approach of two males in the still 

 autumn night is heralded by such loud snorting bellows, and such 

 crashing of branches by each male's horns, as to resemble cart loads 

 of plank thrown violently upon the ground. This bellowing to 

 unseen bellow, this crash of unknown violence swelling upon the 

 night wind, is said to make the heart of the oldest hunter throb to 

 his last pant. Usually, however, the slightest crackle, or the least 

 odor or scent of the hunter, sends this timorous creature back in a 

 retreat so noiseless as scarce to be credited from his loud advance. 

 Towards the end of the rut, some few bulls become infuriated, 

 attacking the cow, equally as the bull — attacking everything. 

 David Eason informed me that, once after calling unsuccessfully a 

 long time, he left his cover and without his gun crossed a little 

 knoll that lay in the open before him. Almost immediately from 

 the crashing in front, he knew that a bull was before him, and he 

 had no time to reach cover or g,un.. Sinking into some alders he 

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