374 



The National Geographic Magazine 



Deer Taking its own Picture 



The thread attached to the camera stretches from bank to bank. The picture was taken in 

 June and shows the gaunt character of the deer during the fly season. Michigan 



the trip by rail, by canoe, and then per- 

 haps a tramp on foot into the heart of the 

 wilderness. Then come the camp and 

 its pleasant environments, and that lucky, 

 radiant day when the early morning sun 

 casts a glint upon the branching antlers 

 of a mighty moose, as, half concealed in 

 the thicket, he furtively and slowly 

 browses his way along, the breathless 

 wait until the neck or shoulder become 

 exposed, the shot, and then — success — 

 that is, sudden death ; or perhaps success 

 delightfully intensified by a hasty scram- 

 ble after the mortally wounded beast on 

 a blood-stained trail, at the end of which 

 we triumphantly find our victim dead or 

 dying. 



"Would that we could realize that what 

 is game to the rifle is game to the camera f 

 Every true sportsman will admit that the 

 instant his noble quarry lies prone upon 

 the earth, with the glaze of death upon 

 the once lustrous eye, the graceful limbs 

 stiff and rigid, and the tiny hole emitting 

 the crimson thread of life, there comes 

 the half-defined feeling of repentance and 

 sorrow. The great desideratum, after 

 all, consists of neither meat, nor horns, 

 nor hide, for the very next day we may 

 be at it again, if able to do so without too 

 severe a tax on our conscience. There- 

 fore we reach the conclusion that much 

 of our large game, when skillfully hunted 

 and dispatched by the modern sportsman 



